Al Zakiyah Al Qāsim looked at me scornfully.
“I could never imagine, Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd could give you excellent sex enough to protect her uncle, Al Muħammad Al Qāsim, and her cousin, Muħammad bin Qāsim, to this extent.”
“Neither could I.” Al Lubnā Al Qāsim said scornfully too.
“He is only an Uncut Hindu Penis, nothing else.” Al Zakiyah Al Qāsim said, “He can do anything to fuck Musalmān Beauties. And if some extremely beautiful Musalmān houseladies are available in a Musalmān household, Durgesh can conceive and stage any bloody legal hocus pocus to protect that entire damn Musalmān household.”
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand looked at Vikram Bachhalyā and Pratāp Bachhalyā.
They kept silence.
None of them tried to say anything.
“Won’t you say anything?” Al Zakiyah Al Qāsim shouted at both Vikram Bachhalyā and Pratāp Bachhalyā, “Does a Bachhalyā brain act only when the Bachhalyā Lund visits a Brāhmañ Cunt? Not, when it visits a Musalmān Cunt?”
Al Lubnā Al Qāsim laughed ironically.
“Our ancestors used to say that we Musalmīn would have also converted entire India into Islam. But the Hindus successfully deceived us by telling us the Brāhmañs are the brain of the Hindus and the Rājpūts are the arms of them. Actually it wasn’t a fact at all. The Brāhmañs were only the ostensible brain of the Hindus and the Rājpūts were only the field warriors. The real brain of the Hindus were the ever indomitable Bachhalyās. The Hindus always kept this war secret successfully to themselves only.”
Vikram Bachhalyā and Pratāp Bachhalyā smiled.
“Al Safiyah Al Ghaus is outlining her theory only. She hasn’t produced any facts in support of her wildest theory until now.”
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus laughed.
Her back and forth movements of her glorious Musalmān buttocks were being increased more and more, swallowing my ever increasingly lustful Uncut Hindu Penis entirely into her tight Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt.
“My dear brother in law, Al Muħammad Al Qāsim, competently protected by his ever efficient Hindu son in law, Durgesh, then slipped out of sight to drift along the side of the ship, pounding and hanging against the sides. He couldn’t be certain otherwise to waken witnesses. After all he had to disappear afterward, hadn’t he to?”
“You mean he used a rope for hanging and pounding to attract the attention of witnesses?” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs asked his ever smart Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān wife.
“There are so many persons who have seen a rope on the deck that disappeared afterward.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus smiled cunningly, “I was too one of them.”
“And how could you manage it?” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs was sarcastic.
“I could manage it, my dear husband, because I suspected him ever since he met Durgesh. I used our Jet Musalmān Beauties Squad to follow your younger brother, Al Muħammad Al Qāsim, nonstop continuous.”
“Because you are interested in his billions?” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs said bitterly.
“Why not?” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus said shamelessly, “Isn’t he your younger brother? Didn’t you help him ever in building his business?”
“If I could help him, I myself would have been a Billionaire.” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs said bitterly.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus ignored his comment deliberately.
“Let me hear more about the rope.” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs said sarcastically, “What does the rope have to do with it?”
“You are one of the most successful script writers in Ved Nagar Film Industry.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus said, “Can’t you yourself imagine it? Your younger brother had to go overboard, falling in a rather peculiar way. Then he had to be where his wife, Al Zohrah Al Bittol, would see him when she reached the bow of the ship. There’s quite an overhang on the bow of the ship that’s built along those trim lines. Al Muħammad Al Qāsim had to be certain that the current couldn’t sweep him away until after Al Zohrah Al Bittol had seen him. Moreover, in addition to that, Al Muħammad Al Qāsim had to be where he could have one hand out of the water and fire a gun. He had to be sure it went off. Al Muħammad Al Qāsim couldn’t afford that gun to get wet or have the barrel filled with water. He had to drop off the ship in such a way that he could keep his right hand out of the water until after he’d fired the shot.”
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs watched his extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān wife outlining her theory how I could have helped Al Muħammad Al Qāsim in escaping from his ever greedy relatives.
“And you mean that accounts for the rope?” His voice had appreciation now for his ever smart wife, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus, despite the fact that he hated her now more and more.
Well, she was brilliant after all.
“Sure.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus said enthusiastically fucking me herself vigorously now. “The best way to have done all that was to have looped a twenty foot rope over the bow of the ship. Then when Al Muħammad Al Qāsim leaned over the side, he could manage to fall in just that particular manner.”*
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs couldn’t believe his own wife, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus, was such a brilliant Musalmān Beauty.
She was describing in detail how could have I saved his younger brother, Al Muħammad Al Qāsim, she was so against of.
He forgot she was fucking me.
Her exquisite gorgeous Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān buttocks were filling my nude Hindu male lap again and again.
My unique legendary Uncut Hindu Penis was vanishing into his extraordinary smart extremely beautiful Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān wife’s Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt with her glamorous bottom’s every back and forth motion.
“Al Muħammad Al Qāsim, your younger brother, could hit the water with a splash. He’d have hold of the rope with his left hand and the gun would be held in his right hand.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus said ironically, “He’d fire the gun then let go one end of the rope down with him. Then he only needed to kick himself up the current and the confused motions of a wounded swimmer would keep him in just the position he wanted until he looked up and saw his wife, Al Zohrah Al Bittol, looking down at him. Then he could drift along the side off the ship.”
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs murmured to himself involuntarily.
“Al Muħammad Al Qāsim was a swimming champion in various swimming clubs’ swimming contests. Durgesh planned knowing his capacity of swimming fully.”
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus laughed.
“There you are my dear husband.”
“I’ll be damned.”
“He decided to die to get rid of us. But when a person dies, there are certain formalities that have to be taken care of before he’s marked dead officially. Someone has to see the body and identify it. Durgesh used Al Zohrah Al Bittol, Al Muħammad Al Qāsim’s wife, for it. Her anticipatory bail had already been taken to protect her. Everything in the planning is so efficiently taken care of that it almost bears Durgesh’s signature. No one except Durgesh could have even conceived this plan. It’s so legally perfect. Isn’t it?”
Everyone present there looked at me with immense appreciation in his/her eyes for me.
I smiled non-committal.
There was no use in contradiction.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus was too obsessed with her logic.
The others were too impressed by her reasoning.
“You see why Durgesh’s ship itself was chosen for it. Al Muħammad Al Qāsim could practice his ostensible murder in this way more efficiently than with another ship/yacht. Durgesh has been known for his unique ship for years now. The pictures of his ‘yacht’ have been published already in all the yachting magazines. If Al Muħammad Al Qāsim could get aboard this ‘yacht’ and leave Durgesh himself to do the explaining to the police… Get it, my dear husband?”*
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs looked at her gravely.
“I’m beginning to. But even if it was so, what’s wrong there Durgesh has done? Al Muħammad Al Qāsim wanted to get rid of us. He is authorized to do so. You haven’t done anything so far in his favor. You always did everything against him and my daughter Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd. Al Muħammad Al Qāsim didn’t want our interference in his life any more. Well, he was authorized to do so.”
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus looked at him furiously.
“You are a damn fool. Al Muħammad Al Qāsim knew very well he could never in the world have got a dime out of Durgesh until the escrow was closed. Durgesh would have demanded a quitclaim deed from Al Muħammad Al Qāsim and Muħammad bin Qāsim jointly, then given them an order on the escrow. Therefore, by playing it this way, and leaving the case wide open, Durgesh convinced Al Muħammad Al Qāsim to feel certain the true facts would never have been even suspected let alone uncovered.”*
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs looked at her sarcastically.
“Can you prove anything of this wildest theory of yours?”
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus smiled approvingly.
“That’s the point. When Durgesh, the legal wizard, plans something it’s not easy to find some hole in it.”
“But,” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs smiled cunningly, “it’s a legal problem we have to face. If we can’t establish what you have theorized so skillfully, what’s the hell use of your such a wonderful interpretation of the facts?”
“I know,” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus contracted her vaginal muscles around the entire length and thickness of my Uncut Hindu Penis, “the proof lies in the fact that your younger brother, Al Muħammad Al Qāsim, couldn’t do it without an accomplice. He needed someone to help him out. Someone, who was camped downstream with a rowboat anchored out of the deep channel but where the current was strong. Al Muħammad Al Qāsim must have kicked past the side of the boat, then gone on downstream, swimming under water, come up to the surface, quit swimming, turned over on his back and floated until he saw the signal of his accomplice on the rowboat.”
“Signal?” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs couldn’t deny he was appreciating his enormously smart wife mentally, despite his every effort to hate her.
She was brilliant.
She was smart.
But, so was almost every Musalmān Beauty he met until now that fucked Durgesh either or Durgesh himself fucked her.
Does Durgesh’s Uncut Hindu Lund inject wisdom, prudence and smartness even in a Musalmān Beauty when he fucks her?
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs couldn’t believe it was even possible.
“Sure,” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus answered him, “probably a shielded flashlight.”
Allah, she had answer to every question.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus continued.
“Then Al Muħammad Al Qāsim, your younger brother, climbed aboard over the stern of the rowboat. His accomplice promptly cut loose from his anchor and silently sculled, rowed, paddled, propelled or canoed the boat to shore where they had an auto waiting.”
“Theory again.” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs objected, “I was asking of proof.”
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus was as obsessed with her theory as she didn’t even pay any attention to what Al Nadīm Al Quddūs had said.
She continued to say in her enthusiasm.
“They’ll be working according to a tight little schedule. Al Muħammad Al Qāsim will be on an airplane headed for some Islamic country or perhaps some place in Mexico.”
“Sure. He has his numerous friends there. Hasn’t he?”
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs murmured.
“You have a point there.”
“Do you know who is his accomplice?”
“Hell, no.” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs grimaced.
“Your lovely, now again extremely beautiful ex-wife, Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus exploded her bomb shell.*
Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd turned the canoe, sent it swiftly to the exhausted Al Muħammad Al Qāsim.
“Get in.” she said, “Climb in over the bow so you don’t upset us.”
“Thank you, Bhābhījān.” Al Muħammad Al Qāsim said in an entirely exhausted voice.
It wasn’t easy to reach the canoe without coming in the eyes of Al Safiyah Al Ghaus’s Cuckold Your Musalmān Husband Movement Musalmān lady commandos.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was very harsh on Criminal/Criminal Minded Musalmīn.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus was now Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s faithful friend.
Of course, Durgesh was with Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd and Al Muħammad Al Qāsim, but even then, Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd and Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd were no match for Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s and Al Safiyah Al Ghaus’s extraordinary Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān female intellect.
Well, he wasn’t sure still whether Muħammad bin Qāsim could hold the fort successfully now, behind him.
Al Muħammad Al Qāsim glanced over his shoulder to look at Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd and me, a swift, desperate appraisal.
Then, he raised his right hand, then left, then catching hold of the bow with both the hands, one on each side, he raised himself with a powerful thrust of strong Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān arms.
He came over the bow, sliding along to lie momentarily flat on his stomach, kicking his legs clear of the water.
“I hope Al Safiyah Al Ghaus Bhābhījān’s Cuckold Your Musalmān Husband movement’s ever dangerous Musalmān lady commandos haven’t seen me.” He said breathlessly.
“Āmīn.” Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd said.
“ÉVmastu!” I also said, “Tathāstu!”
“I don’t think even now, it’d be easy to establish that I’ve been really murdered.”
“Al Safiyah Al Ghaus and Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan would never leave any stone unturned to prove the contrary.” Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd said pushing her ever glorious Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān buttocks back in my nude Hindu male lap.
My Uncut Hindu Penis again vanished entirely into her ever tight Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt.
Al Muħammad Al Qāsim rolled over with a swift lithe motion, doubled his knees in under him, pulled down his wet dress and gasped.
Even then he didn’t fail to notice that I was paddling like hell.
He couldn’t decide whether my Uncut Hindu Penis was vanishing fast into his Bhābhījān, Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd’s, Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt or I was paddling fast.
His followers had flashlights.
Everyone of them were trained commandos after all.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was now Al Sadar Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus was paying a large fee to Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s Cuckold Your Musalmān Husband movement.
Even if Durgesh was against the movement, Shankar Mahāpralayankar was with them.
The questing beams of the flashlights circled out over the dark waters.
One of the more powerful flashlights caught the canoe.
I promptly ceased paddling, kept my back turned, my face down and said to Al Muħammad Al Qāsim.
“Keep your head down.”
Al Muħammad Al Qāsim obeyed instantly.
From the direction of my ship, came the sputtering sound of a motor, then a choking back fire, followed by a sudden roar of staccato explosions.
Al Muħammad Al Qāsim was instantaneously alert.
“Allah,” he said, “they are prepared for everything. Al Safiyah Al Ghaus Bhābhījān has perhaps anticipated our every move already. They have got one of the speedboats going. We have to reach quickly to our other yachts there.”
“Al Muħammad Al Qāsim is right Durgesh.” Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd said, “Give it everything you have. Quick. We can’t afford to let them catch us here.”
“That’s why I proposed speedboat myself. But you insisted on canoe.”
“Speedboats make noise.” Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd squeezed my Uncut Hindu Penis by her vaginal muscles, “Hear yourself.”*
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus looked at Al Nadīm Al Quddūs.
“My dear husband, I’ve instructed my reliable detectives from Cuckold Your Musalmān Husband movement to scrutinize the passengers who go out on airplanes. I want them to cover the morning outgoing trains at the depot. I want detectives to comb the river bank and see if they can find some trace of Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd who rented a rowboat/canoe. Above all, my dear husband, if the scheme worked out according to schedule, Al Muħammad Al Qāsim must have changed from his wet clothes to dry clothes in Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd’s automobile. I want to get hold of her automobile and see if we can find Al Muħammad Al Qāsim’s wet clothes. That’s why I’m in a hurry and that’s why we have got to work fast.”
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs didn’t say anything for a moment.
Then he smiled.
“You think Durgesh hadn’t anticipated already what you can do? He hasn’t already checkmated your every possible move? Well, my dear wife, then you don’t know Durgesh properly, even while he is fucking you.”
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
ACP Suraiyā Jamāl looked at Al Zohrah Al Bittol smiling cunningly.
Al Zohrah Al Bittol laughed at her.
“Look at me as much as you please.” Al Zohrah Al Bittol cooed, “You can’t do anything whatsoever, nevertheless. I am on anticipatory bail, I’ve told you already.”
“You said you jumped out of bed, grabbed the gun and didn’t even wait to put a robe on?”
“That’s right.” Al Zohrah Al Bittol kept fucking me smiling at ACP Suraiyā Jamāl triumphantly, “I came flying up the companionway and was just approaching the bow when I saw a vague figure swaying this way and that, apparently engaged in a struggle of some sort.”
“A figure?” ACP Suraiyā Jamāl asked sarcastically.
Al Zohrah Al Bittol grimaced.
“I refuse to answer your insulting questions. You are trying to irritate me. I would prefer to give my testimony in a competent court.”
“That’s what you think.” ACP Suraiyā Jamāl smiled tartly.
“That’s what I’m going to do. You don’t have any legal right to insult and humiliate me.”
“It’s not you that’s taking this attitude to a responsible police officer.” ACP Suraiyā Jamāl said smirking, “It’s Durgesh’s Uncut Hindu Penis visiting your Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt that’s letting you fly so high.”
“I’m glad you have eyes at least, even if you don’t have any manners whatsoever.”
“I may request to cancel your bail.”
“Oh, sure. Go ahead. Do everything on the earth you are capable of. If you really get it canceled I’d wash your feet and drink the water that is used in washing them.”*
ACP Suraiyā Jamāl smiled.
She wasn’t born yesterday.
She realized the truth in Al Zohrah Al Bittol’s voice.
So, Al Zohrah Al Bittol was really innocent?
Despite she was on the deck when Al Muħammad Al Qāsim was overboard,
Despite she had a revolver in her hand, Despite Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah heard an ‘explosion of some sort.
Did Durgesh deliberately stage this improbable story for her?
The night was filled with sounds of hectic activity now.
Opening and closing doors and frightened feet sounded in the passageways and on the companionways.
The swift babble of voices kept up an incessant, a nonstop, chatter.
Moreover, cutting through all of the sounds of confusion, my crisp, authoritative voice was giving orders.
The motorboats had been lowered to the water and engines started.
Each of them cruised in a series of questing circles around the ship.
“The figure was apparently engaged in a struggle of some sort,” Al Zohrah Al Bittol repeated, “but I saw only the one figure.”
ACP Suraiyā Jamāl stopped herself with efforts, not to smirk.
What was the use?
Al Zohrah Al Bittol would again stop telling her story.
Shouldn’t at least she listen to it?
She saw only the one figure.
Yet, it was engaged in a struggle of some sort.
With whom the hell was it struggling then?
Al Zohrah Al Bittol realized the question her statement generated.
“The other one must have been below the deck.” Al Zohrah Al Bittol advanced her assumption.
ACP Suraiyā Jamāl looked at me pleadingly.
“Go on,” I grabbed the splendid heavy buttocks of Al Zohrah Al Bittol and arched my waist up.
My Uncut Hindu Penis penetrated her ardent Musalmān Cunt as a spear as if.
Her bottom was coming down at the same time.
Al Zohrah Al Bittol shouted in superb ecstasy.
“Allaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! What the hell are you doing to me?”
I caressed her buttocks and kissed her on her lips passionately.
She controlled herself and resumed.
Now, her up and down motion had stopped.
She was sitting on my Uncut Hindu Penis swallowing it entirely into her Musalmān Cunt.
I was enjoying the honor myself too to its utmost extent.
“Just before I got there,” Al Zohrah Al Bittol continued, “the man lurched and fell overboard. I screamed involuntarily as I heard the splash. Then there was the sound of an explosion and a series of splashing noises. By the time I had reached the bow. I could hear my name being called now.”
I was listening to her gravely.
ACP Suraiyā Jamāl and Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah looked at each other.
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī was alone, after me, that was too listening to it gravely.*
Al Zohrah Al Bittol watched me, Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah, Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī and ACP Suraiyā Jamāl.
Then she went on,
“I bent over the rail. I could see now a figure of a man in the water. It was floundering around aimlessly. It was floundering as if it was wounded badly and was trying to swim desperately.”
Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah looked at me.
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī also looked at me.
ACP Suraiyā Jamāl did smirk again, as if asking me,
‘If Al Zohrah Al Bittol is really innocent how Al Muħammad Al Qāsim would have been wounded?
Why was he trying to swim desperately?
Who the hell wounded Al Muħammad Al Qāsim if not Al Zohrah Al Bittol?’
I was reading the questions on their faces.
But I didn’t ask Al Zohrah Al Bittol anything.
She went on,
“Then the figure moved into the oval of light that was coming from a porthole in the forecastle and I could see his face. He was Al Muħammad Al Qāsim, my husband. He seemed partially paralyzed. He called me and tried to call out a message. I couldn’t hear what he said. His voice was almost inaudible. Abruptly he ceased to struggle and was swept down by the current under the overhang of the bow. I thought he was coming down the starboard side. I ran that way. Unfortunately, apparently, he drifted down the port side.”
ACP Suraiyā Jamāl grimaced.
“Unfortunately, it doesn’t conform to the facts as they must have happened.”
Al Zohrah Al Bittol smirked.
“I sympathize with you.”
“I beg your pardon?” ACP Suraiyā Jamāl said curtly.
“That the facts don’t understand how compulsory it is to obey you.”
“When Durgesh’s Uncut Hindu Penis is inside your Musalmān Cunt you can fly in sky very high.” ACP Suraiyā Jamāl commented drily.
Al Zohrah Al Bittol laughed.
“Al Muħammad Al Qāsim couldn’t have been telephoning from the bow of the yacht. It was virtually impossible.” ACP Suraiyā Jamāl said curtly”*
There were no vacant chairs at the dinner.
Sheeted rain lashed against the portholes.
The guests who made merry with colored paper caps, balloons and pasteboard horns lacked spontaneity.
Their merriment seemed merely a forced attempt to comply with maritime, nautical, conventions.
Awfully striking lady robot waitresses felt their way, a few steps at a time, half-filled dishes carried in deep serving trays.
Fucking Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and dining, I looked across where Muħammad bin Qāsim and his Hollywood heroine wife, Al Taufīq Al Fatimah, were entertaining Al Safiyah Al Ghaus, Al Nadīm Al Quddūs, Al Zakiyah Al Qāsim, Vikram Bachhalyā, Al Lubnā Al Qāsim, Pratāp Bachhalyā and Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī.
Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah and Ruqayyah Muħammad Åbdullah were also there with Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand and Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim.
With darkness, the faint mist that had been forming on the water thickened into fog, and as we sat down to dinner the hoarse fog whistle boomed out its eerie, unnerving, warning.
Thereafter at regular intervals through the meal the fog whistle served to remind us that we were on the water and a fog was settling down.
“Doesn’t look as though we’ll get back tonight.” Ruqayyah Muħammad Åbdullah said.
“Wouldn’t you tackle it in a fog?” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus enquired.
“Not unless I have to.” I pulled nude Al Safiyah Al Ghaus to me.
She laughed ecstatically and pushed her extremely glorious nude Musalmān bottom into my nude Hindu male lap.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smilingly deserted it for Al Safiyah Al Ghaus.
My Uncut Hindu Penis made a sound of ‘pluck’ as it came out of Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s thirty two years old young Musalmān Cunt.
It was heavily anointed with her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt juices.
As soon as Al Safiyah Al Ghaus positioned her immensely ravenous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt against the tip of my Uncut Hindu Penis and pushed, my thoroughly lubricated Uncut Hindu Penis immediately entered into Al Safiyah Al Ghaus’s Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt.
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs could not watch it.
He averted his eyes immediately.
“Slut,” he murmured to himself.
Yet, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus had heard it.
She laughed humiliating Al Nadīm Al Quddūs immensely and started fucking me herself vigorously, energetically, dynamically, forcefully, and strongly.
I put my hands on her glamorous nude Musalmān waist.
Yet, it was not necessary.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus herself was vigilant enough that my Uncut Hindu Penis must never come out of her Musalmān Cunt entirely, and it must penetrate her Musalmān Cunt vigorously instead without any hindrance whatsoever it may be.*
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs was feeling himself immensely insulted.
But what could he do?
Even before his marriage with Al Safiyah Al Ghaus, he knew she loved immense sex.
He thought he could provide him the same.
He was too confident of his manly potency living in extreme over confidence.
He was too obsessed with Al Safiyah Al Ghaus’s devastating Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān beauty that he thought he could make love to her till infinity.
Hell, he could not, practically ever.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus wanted more and more sex from him.
Her first husband had committed suicide due to intense shame he faced when he could not satisfy Al Safiyah Al Ghaus sexually.
Now, Durgesh is providing her even more sex than even Al Safiyah Al Ghaus could digest.
How crazy Al Safiyah Al Ghaus was for Durgesh’s Uncut Hindu Lund getting into her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot.
She undressed herself while Durgesh was fucking his Practical Chief Wife, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan.
Why Al Safiyah Al Ghaus did so?
To seduce Durgesh herself.
And when Durgesh saw her nude Musalmān beauty and pulled Al Safiyah Al Ghaus to him, how ecstatically she laughed, positioned Durgesh’s Uncut Hindu Lund herself between the ravenous quivering ever greedy lips of her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot.
How ecstatically Al Safiyah Al Ghaus is pushing her ever magnificent Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān bottom to Durgesh’s ever sexy nude Hindu male lap.
She is swallowing Durgesh’s Uncut Hindu Lund deepest every time she thrust back her bottom, into her extremely greedy Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot.
Her eyes are brightest when Durgesh’s Uncut Hindu Lund is deepest into her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot.
They lost their brightness as Durgesh’s Uncut Hindu Lund left her Musalmān Choot.
But they were again brightest when Durgesh Uncut Hindu Lund is again deepest back into her still greedy still ravenous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot.
Suddenly he realized the persons were gathering in a wide circle around Durgesh and Al Safiyah Al Ghaus, Al Nadīm Al Quddūs’s extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān wife, fucking Durgesh ravenously entirely unashamed of herself.
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs was horrified.
Everyone would ask who she is.
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs would die of shame.*
Al Muħammad Al Qāsim had said,
“Don’t trust the bitch. Fuck her and enjoy her beautiful body. But never trust the bitch. She’s a snob. Ever notice how it happens that people who have real background and breeding are considerate, tolerant, and broad-minded, while people who haven’t anything except money that they didn’t earn themselves, are intolerant? That’s my Bhābhījān, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus, you fuck wildly, I guess.”
I tried to say something but Al Muħammad Al Qāsim raised his hand and stopped me.
“Listen to me, please; I’m your father in law too.”
I looked at him gravely.
“My entire daughters, except Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim, love you. She loved Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand and married him. My Bhābhījān, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus, has got about the nicest figure I’ve ever seen on a woman. And I’ve too seen lots of them.
“Never underestimate my Bhābhījān, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus, Durgesh. She uses her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān body as her ever best weapon. When you fuck her she is the most capable and even having all the smartness you are less capable than her, because your Uncut Hindu Lund is inside her ever smart Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān Choot.”
“Sorry for using those words, but that’s it.” Al Muħammad Al Qāsim said bitterly, “That woman enjoys your Uncut Hindu Lund in her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot, but it sharpens her brain.”
“You don’t believe me? Try to test what I’m telling you. The more you fuck my Bhābhījān, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus, the sharper is her already ever smart brain. She made Bhāījān, Al Nadīm Al Quddūs, to disinherit his own daughter when he was fucking the bitch. Never underestimate her, I repeat. She’s smart. My Bhābhījān, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus, is chain lightning! She’s got her eye on a big slice of money, and Bhāījān, Al Nadīm Al Quddūs, hasn’t waked up yet, despite the fact that he has lost his daughter to me.
“That’s all right. Let him sleep. He has paid for a dream. As long as he’s enjoying the dream, why grab him by the shoulder and bring him back to the grim realities of existence?”*
I grabbed her waist and started fucking her myself too.
Her extremely ravenous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt was one of the perfect homes for my Uncut Hindu Penis.
After fucking Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan to my heart’s content, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus was an extremely pleasant replacement to Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan.
Their Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī ardent Musalmān Cunts were extremely ravenous for my Uncut Hindu Penis.
Yet, they both had their own individualities too.
I knew now why Al Safiyah Al Ghaus was so ravenous for me.
Neither of her Musalmān husbands could fuck her even properly.
Her vaginal grip around my Uncut Hindu Penis was almost virginal.
My Uncut Hindu Penis was penetrating her first time properly.
It was natural she loved me more now than either of her incompetent Musalmān husbands.
“You are my husband now, not Al Nadīm Al Quddūs, the impotent.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus whispered to me.
I smiled and kissed her on her beautiful lips.
“Thank you, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus.”
“It’s my pleasure, Durgesh darling.”
“Well,” Ruqayyah Muħammad Åbdullah laughed suddenly, “you both are made for each other, doubtlessly. Nevertheless, I can’t stay all night.”
She glanced at Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah too.
“Well,” Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah laughed, “I don’t think we have much choice in the matter, Bājī.”
I smiled at Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah.
Then still fucking Al Safiyah Al Ghaus vigorously, I assured Ruqayyah Muħammad Åbdullah.
“Ruqayyah Muħammad Åbdullah, don’t worry. I’ve plenty of room. We can put everybody up nicely.”
“Look here,” Muħammad Ůsmān interrupted, “what’s the idea behind this thing? Almost all of us know very well that at this season of the year, there’s always fog and rain even, on this part of the sea.”
“Yet, you accepted the invitation.” Ruqayyah Muħammad Åbdullah looked at Muħammad Ůsmān contemptuously.
“Not always,” Muħammad bin Qāsim interrupted hastily.
He was the one who accepted the invitation, not Muħammad Ůsmān.
Muħammad Ůsmān had only agreed to it.
“Don’t worry,” Muħammad Ůsmān said sarcastically, “after fucking Al Safiyah Al Ghaus to his heart’s content, Durgesh would fuck you too. I’d request him to oblige you too.”
Ruqayyah Muħammad Åbdullah sympathized with him.
“Thank you. So, ultimately you are absolutely impotent now?”
I interrupted to stop the hot exchanges between Ruqayyah Muħammad Åbdullah and Muħammad Ůsmān.
“Well, Muħammad Ůsmān is right somewhat, Muħammad bin Qāsim. It’s not always, but it’s nearly always. However, Muħammad Ůsmān, I can get out the ship and put you ashore at a little town on a Hindu Lund Musalmān Choot Island, about ten miles upstream. There’s an airline that will get you back to Ved Nagar.”
“That would be deuced uncomfortable.” Muħammad Ůsmān said, “Muħammad bin Qāsim is just recovering from a case of stomach trouble.”
“Food poisoning,” Muħammad bin Qāsim interrupted.
“Well,” I announced still pumping Al Safiyah Al Ghaus, now even more severely, “I’m not going to risk the safety of the ship and the convenience of the other guests. Muħammad Ůsmān, you can get in a launch and get an interurban if you want to.”
“I don’t want to.” Muħammad Ůsmān said furiously, “Ruqayyah Muħammad Åbdullah is still my wife. I can’t leave her behind for you to fuck her as if she is a slut, not my respected Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān wife.”
Ruqayyah Muħammad Åbdullah laughed and licked my Uncut Hindu Lund coming out of Al Safiyah Al Ghaus’s tight Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot.
“It’s very tasty. Muħammad Ůsmān, come on, taste for yourself.”
“Go to hell.” Muħammad Ůsmān shouted back to her.
Ruqayyah Muħammad Åbdullah winked at him.
“Sorry, Muħammad Ůsmān. You’ve to go alone there. I can’t and won’t accompany you ever now.”
Muħammad Ůsmān gritted his teeth.
“Muħammad Ůsmān,” Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah said curtly, “sit here and enjoy life. Durgesh, you said you have some champagne on ice?”
“I don’t talk business when I drink.” Muħammad bin Qāsim declared.
“All right,” still fucking Al Safiyah Al Ghaus, I pulled Al Taufīq Al Fatimah too to me, squeezed her immensely rich Musalmān buttocks and kissed her on her red crimson lips, “Muħammad bin Qāsim, what’s your proposition?”
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
The train had come to a stop.
Doors glided open.
Porters stood helping passengers off the train.
Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd stood looking first to the left, then to the right.
A woman got off the train, stood looking around as though expecting to meet someone, started to walk toward the depot, paused, turned and walked toward Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd.
“Waħīdah!” the woman said.
“Why, Ammījān!” Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd exclaimed with entirely unanticipated extremely pleasant surprise. “Allah! Good heavens, I didn’t recognize you. Even your own daughter couldn’t recognize you! What have you done to yourself? Måshā Allah! Subħān Allah!”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and I exchanged glances.
“Allah Allah! Good Lord, Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd? Al Nadīm Al Quddūs’s first wife? I’ll be damned.”*
Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd smiled at her daughter.
“Hey, don’t tell me my new Hindu husband, my new Hindu Kħasam, didn’t tell you how miraculously he has transformed me.”
“Well, he told me,” Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd managed to control somewhat her still miraculously extremely pleasant surprise, “but I could never imagine… Ammījān, you look only my elder sister now. None can ever guess you are my real Ammī. It’s just a miracle, Ammī. You’ve really taken off weight.”
“Thirty five pounds.” Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd said, “I’m down to a hundred and twenty one and I’m going to stay that way. I’ve learned the hard way what happens to a woman when she lets her figure go.”
“Let Abbū see you and…”
Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd interrupted her daughter in the middle,
“Allah, Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd, don’t tell me you still care for that bastard. He divorced a Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān immensely faithful wife, for a hostess, for a shill who put on daringly cut evening gowns that were tight and clinging and circulated around the gambling tables here in Las Vegas, Nevada.”
Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd was immensely angry.
Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd could understand very well what her Ammī was suffering through mentally.
“That’s why I requested you to meet somewhere else. But you insisted.”
“I lost my husband here. I want to celebrate my new private life exactly here to wipe out my memories of nonstop mental torture. You perhaps don’t know the bastard is also coming here to request me not to allow you to live in relationship with Durgesh. Hahaha. A thoroughly immoral husband is impersonating a thoroughly moral father now.”
I entered the room Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and Al Safiyah Al Ghaus were waiting for me in.
It was mellow, rich, with subdued sunlight filtering through pearl gray drapes.
There was wall-to-wall oyster-shell-colored carpeting on the floor.
The chairs were deep and comfortable.
The whole room was esthetically decorated.
It gave the impression that it had been designed for living, rather than to conform, to imitate, to any particular style of interior decoration.
“Beautifully decorated.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus said as I entered there.
“Thank you.” I smiled, “But the credit goes to your friend Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, not to me.”
“I don’t think Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and you are two different persons.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus cooed.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan laughed.
“Thank you, Al Safiyah.”
“I’m sorry that you two, Al Muħammad Al Qāsim and you, have differences of opinions.”
“Don’t be so modest ever.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan said furiously, “Your ‘father in law’ has clearly accused Al Safiyah Al Ghaus that she has murdered her previous husband.”
“It was his opinion, darling, not mine. How can I answer for him?”
“I think I need to talk with Al Zakāt Al Qāsim about it.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan watched me significantly.
“The question is why did your friend break Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd’s home?”
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus watched me suggestively.
“Al Nadīm Al Quddūs went to me in Las Vegas, Nevada. I didn’t go to him.” she said somewhat acidly, “moreover, the life I was living wasn’t a dignified life. It was my compulsion, not my choice. Why the hell I shouldn’t grab an opportunity to lead a respectful life with a millionaire if I could?”
“Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd should herself blame for what happened.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan said curtly, “How the hell she thought Al Nadīm Al Quddūs woud not react to as a dazzling Musalmān Beauty as Al Safiyah Al Ghaus? How did Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd forget she was herself a dazzling Musalmān Beauty when Al Nadīm Al Quddūs married her? It’s a world of bitter competition. Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd should have maintained her beauty herself. Why the hell did she forget to watch her married life to be safe if she could?”*
I smiled at Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan ironically.
“You mean every Musalmān Beauty is justified in breaking the other Musalmān Beauty’s home, if she is leading the hard and degrading life as Al Safiyah Al Ghaus did?”
“Al Safiyah Al Ghaus could do it because Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd lost her interest in keeping her Musalmān husband properly.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan said curtly, “Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd took her husband for granted to be devoted to her only because he was married to her. Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd stopped watching her own figure despite knowing very well the polygamous nature of a man. It was her own mistake and she paid for it.”
“You haven’t any sympathy for Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd?”
“I have more sympathy for Al Safiyah Al Ghaus.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan said tersely.
“Because Al Safiyah Al Ghaus was suffering more in Las Vegas, Nevada?”
“Because Al Safiyah Al Ghaus was suffering more in Las Vegas, Nevada.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan repeated despite my smirk, “Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd was already a honorable housewife. Al Safiyah Al Ghaus was not. It was natural for Al Safiyah Al Ghaus that she tried to improve her personal life.”
“And Al Nadīm Al Quddūs was the only man available to Al Safiyah Al Ghaus?” I kept smirking.*
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled curtly.
“Al Nadīm Al Quddūs was the immediate man available. Al Safiyah Al Ghaus didn’t love him. He was the only immediate man available to her who could help her for getting rid off that rather undignified life she was compelled to lead.”
I watched Al Safiyah Al Ghaus.
Al Muħammad Al Qāsim suspected I was fucking her.
I didn’t contradict him.
It was useless.
The reputation Dr. Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ, Åāýéshah Siddīqah, Kħadījah Muħammad, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and her now famous/infamous seven movements: Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club, Cuckold Your Musalmān husband, Ashvinātam Gangbang Club, Al Jihād fil Durgesh fī sabīlillāh, Jet Musalmān Beauties Squad, Durgesh Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ Sex Therapy and Durgesh Åāýéshah Siddīqah Social Service, had built up for me, never allowed anyone to believe ever that, a Musalmān Beauty was available to me and I never fucked her.*
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus awoke in her luxurious Ved Nagar mansion.
She pressed a button to open the electrically controlled drapes.
She was confronted by the side of a young man.
Vikram Bachhalyā was clad in a white T-shirt and exquisite jeans.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus struggled to sit up, buzzing for Musarrat Kħālid, her secretary.
At the same time Al Safiyah Al Ghaus was flinging on a marabou trimmed silk robe and pressing her feet into dusty pink mules.
Vikram Bachhalyā stretched himself and strolled casually out of view.
“Musarrat Kħālid,” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus called, “where the hell are you?”
Musarrat Kħālid appeared, inscrutable, calm and anxious to her mistress’s calls.
She appreciated Al Safiyah Al Ghaus.
Most of the Ved Nagar film industry wives screamed at their secretaries.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus never did it.
She was always sophisticated.
What a pleasant exception Al Safiyah Al Ghaus was to the other Ved Nagar film industry wives.
The same Hollywood wives were there.
The same Bollywood wives were there.
The same Lollywood wives were there.
The same Tollywood wives were there.
Yet, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus was quite different with them.
“There was Vikram Bachhalyā out by the pool. I wonder what the Al Zakiyah Al Qāsim’s Hindu husband was doing there. A Bachhalyā rarely loves a Musalmān Beauty. All the Bachhalyās are crazily obsessed with the Brāhmañ Beauties. You know that, Musarrat Kħālid, don’t you?”
Musarrat Kħālid smiled patiently,
“Durgesh is also a Bachhalyā, ma’am.”
“There are exceptions too, to every general attitude we notice about others.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus smiled patiently too, “Don’t you think so?”
“That’s good. Make sure all the doors are locked.”
Musarrat Kħālid nodded,
She began to collect debris of clutter from Al Safiyah Al Ghaus’s bedside table. Dirty Kleenex, a half finished glass of wine, a rifled box of chocolates.
“Musarrat,” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus addressed her again.
“Don’t get excited, Señora.” Musarrat Kħālid said stoically, “Al Zakiyah Al Qāsim ma’am is not feeling good. She requested Vikram Bachhalyā, her husband…”
Musarrat Kħālid even couldn’t complete her sentence.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me that before?” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus scolded Musarrat Kħālid and flung herself into her bathroom.
She slammed the door so hard that a framed print sprang off the wall and crashed to the floor.
Dumb ass woman.
It was impossible to get good help anymore.
They came. They went.
They did not give a damn even if you were raped and ravaged in your own home.
And this would have to happen while Al Nadīm Al Quddūs was away on location.
Al Zakiyah Al Qāsim would never have dared to pretend to be sick if Al Nadīm Al Quddūs was here.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus flung off her robe, slipped out of her nightgown, and stepped under the invigorating sharpness of an ice cold shower.
She gritted her teeth.
Cold shower was best for the skin.
It tightened everything up.
Allah målūm, God knows, even with the gym and yoga and the modern dance class it still all needed tightening.
No, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus wasn’t fat even a bit.
She knew very well how incredibly beautiful she was.
People were either jealous or crazy of her incredible Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Beauty.
She was aware of it.
She knew it was her greatest weapon in this damn male dominated world.
Her brother in law, her dévar, Al Muħammad Al Qāsim, hated the ground Al Safiyah Al Ghaus walked on, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus knew.
But what can the damn fool do?
He is claiming now Al Safiyah Al Ghaus has murdered her former husband.
But can the moron explain why the hell she worked as a hostess before marrying Al Nadīm Al Quddūs?
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus smiled.
She wasn’t born yesterday.
Al Muħammad Al Qāsim still has a long way to understand what Al Safiyah Al Ghaus really was.
The life had taught her more than it taught Al Muħammad Al Qāsim.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus smiled shrewdly.
She lived now in a six bedroomed, seven bathroomed, Ved Nagar Film Industry palace.
On the flats too.
Not stuck up in the hills.
On the flats.
Prime real Estate.
Her extraordinary devastating Musalmān beauty is perfectly being taken care of.
Her hair was a rich brown, cut short and tipped with golden streaks.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus’s Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān skin was alabaster white and smooth.
Thanks to regular facials.
Her teeth were white and even.
She was prudent enough never to stop reading and learning.
Most of the Ved Nagar film industry wives criticize Al Safiyah Al Ghaus that she reads so much.
They didn’t understand its benefits.
Moreover, the proud Musalmān Beauties neither wanted to read and keep on improving themselves as Al Safiyah Al Ghaus did without failure nonstop.
Most of the Ved Nagar film industry wives used to read Hollywood stuff only.
‘Vogue’, ‘People’, ‘Us’.
They skimmed the trades, ‘Variety’ and ‘Hollywood Reporter’.
Wasn’t Ronald Regan elected the President?
If they can do it, why the hell can’t Al Nadīm Al Quddūs even?
Yes, he isn’t a star as Ronald Regan.
But he is a first class screenplay writer.
He can dream wonderfully.
He was one of the best dreamers in Ved Nagar Film Industry, Hollywood, Bollywood, Lollywood and Tollywood.
His screenplays were always stupendous hits.
After Salim Javed Al Nadīm Al Quddūs has also made a writer a star.*
Despite frantic and desperate attempts from Al Muħammad Al Qāsim, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus knew how obsessed Al Nadīm Al Quddūs was with her.
He deliberately chose to marry a gambling house hostess, a shill, from Las Vegas, Nevada.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus knew it was the only place she could impress the then successful screenplay writer of Ved Nagar Film Industry.
He could be a stepladder for her to fulfill her dreams.
She could easily make it with a dreamer.
The realists were not for her.
They love money/ career/life more than they love anything else.
Durgesh is a realist.
Yes, he is a dreamer too.
But he is a realist dreamer.
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs wasn’t a realist at all.
He was only a dreamer.
He could be a stepladder for her.
He has his own mission.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus has her own mission.
Durgesh could help her in her mission, but not as a stepladder.
Durgesh is too prudent, too realistic.
It was a big mansion, Al Lubnā Al Qāsim lived in with her Bachhalyā Hindu husband, Pratāp Bachhalyā.
The house was one of the show places of Ved Nagar.
It had side porches, spacious grounds, shade trees, lawns, summerhouses, terraces, winding walks and swimming pools.
It was a vast exquisite dwelling.
It showed, rather exhibited, the multi millions Pratāp Bachhalyā and his extremely beautiful wife, Al Lubnā Al Qāsim, possessed.
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī turned my limousine in at the driveway.
Together with the big garage, the driveway was itself magnificent.
The hard surfaced driveway cut through in a businesslike straight line past the winding walks that followed the contours of the terraced grounds.
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī, the ambitious sister of Al Muħammad Al Qāsim, now a successful lawyer herself, stopped my limousine.
She rang the bell second time before we heard confident steps, knees, elbows and palms, and then the door was opened by extremely beautiful Al Lubnā Al Qāsim and Pratāp Bachhalyā themselves.
Al Lubnā Al Qāsim smiled at her elder sister.
She was their lawyer despite she was an integral part of HVS Law Internationals now.
The Al Qāsims still had their faith in their own blood?
I didn’t know.
Al Lubnā Al Qāsim was similarly on her knees and elbows as her elder sister, Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī, was.
Pratāp Bachhalyā was fucking Al Lubnā Al Qāsim from her gorgeous behind as I was fucking Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī.
It was Ved Nagar.
Nonstop sophisticated fucking was entirely legal and normal here.
It was in India, but it was a largely privileged Global City, rather Inter Universal to be more correct and more specific.
“Welcome,” Pratāp Bachhalyā and Al Lubnā Al Qāsim smiled, “Come in, please.”
“Bhābhījān, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus, Al Nadīm Al Quddūs Bhāījān, Al Zakiyah Al Qāsim and Vikram Bachhalyā…”
Al Lubnā Al Qāsim interrupted Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī in her mid sentence.
“They all have already come. You are rather late.”*
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī and I followed Al Lubnā Al Qāsim and Pratāp Bachhalyā.
The room we entered in, was thoroughly in keeping with the rest of the house.
It was a large spacious library.
Both Al Lubnā Al Qāsim and her husband, Pratāp Bachhalyā, were great believers in reading and keeping themselves update.
So were Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī and I.
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī was not my live in relationship partner exactly.
She was my friend and sister in law, my Salhaj, actually.
Yet, we fucked now openly.
Even her husband appreciated our exquisite fucking.
The entire Al Qāsim sisters were thoroughly devastating Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān Beauties.
I smiled at Pratāp Bachhalyā.
“You are one of the luckiest men, Pratāp. Your wife is really a devastating Musalmān Beauty. Congratulations.”
Pratāp Bachhalyā smiled graciously.
“Thank you very much.”
In the center of the library, there was a massive mahogany table.
There were three huge table lamps on the table.
The shades were some four feet in diameter at the bottom.
They were composed of heavy leather.
The clustered lamps on the interior poured fourth illumination upon the huge table and sprayed light out through the openings in the tops of the shades.
Six chairs had been drawn up at the table.
Three of them were occupied.
The fourth was evidently occupied by Al Lubnā Al Qāsim and Pratāp Bachhalyā.
Evidently, they were fucking on the fourth chair, as Al Zakiyah Al Qāsim and Vikram Bachhalyā were still fucking on the third.
The fifth chair was occupied by Al Safiyah Al Ghaus.
The last sixth chair was occupied by Al Nadīm Al Quddūs.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus and Al Nadīm Al Quddūs were also husband and wife.
Yet they were sitting on separate chairs fully clothed.
“Hey,” Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī laughed at them, “aren’t you too husband and wife?”
“Sure we are.” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs said curtly, “But I am neither Vikram Bachhalyā nor Pratāp Bachhalyā. I am Al Nadīm Al Quddūs. Remember?”
Vikram Bachhalyā fucking Al Zakiyah Al Qāsim and Pratāp Bachhalyā fucking Al Lubnā Al Qāsim laughed.
Both the younger sisters of Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī, Al Zakiyah Al Qāsim and Al Lubnā Al Qāsim laughed too.
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs was shamelessly not embarrassed.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus looked shameful of herself.
“Sorry, Al Hudā , your cousin is a finicky. He doesn’t care ever even a bit how embarrassed and shameful I am feeling myself, as if my husband has died or divorced me already. His backward morals…”
“Backward morals hell,” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs said curtly, “I am not an ever sexy Hindu. And you knew it very well before you married me. Didn’t you?”
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam