1: Of my Musalmān friends
Al Raħmān Al Åbbās family
Durgesh Al Saåīdah Al Zāfar
Durgesh Al Asmā Al Salmān
Durgesh Al Asmā Al SalmānNādirah Åzīm called out as her husband and I walked into the kitchen.
“Okay, boys, I’m heading out now!”
“I’ll see you later, honey.” Nādirah Åzīm said, kissing Muħammad Raħmān as she began to step out the door.
Before she walked out, she turned to me:
“And you, ever young Hindu man. You better not get into trouble with my extremely beautiful naughty Musalmān lady friends while we’re gone tonight. They are sex starved and they may drain you out of your so called infinite Hindu sexual prowess even. I don’t prohibit you to satisfy them sexually if they need it. Nevertheless I’ve warned you how ravenous they are sexually. Watch yourself not to be drained out completely.”
Muħammad Raħmān laughed,
“Hey, Al Nādirah Al Åzīm, you are warning my Hindu stepfather as if you yourself need his skills after you return.”
Nādirah Åzīm smiled teasingly at her naughty husband.
“Maybe your joke come true sometimes, Muħammad Raħmān. Don’t kid me thus every now and then. I know you believe Durgesh and I too have extramarital affair despite our constant denials.”
Muħammad Raħmān laughed.
“I can’t believe Durgesh is so available to you and you are still loyal to me.”
“Are you impotent?” Nādirah Åzīm teased him.
“You know I’m not.” Muħammad Raħmān smiled, “Nevertheless, I’m not Durgesh after all. He is the Sex god, everyone believes it.”
Nādirah Åzīm didn’t reply Muħammad Raħmān.
She turned to me once more,
“We might not come back until very late or early tomorrow morning.”
“I know, I know, Nādirah Åzīm.” I started, “I’ll just be here serving your needy beautiful Musalmān lady friends. However, they aren’t ravenous. Their husbands leave them ravenous.”
“Okay, my over human Hindu stepfather in law, you are already called the Hindu Al Buåūlatul Muslimāt. They claim we entire beautiful Musalmān houseladies are having sex with you actually, however much we deny it. Nobody believes us even a bit. It’s all right. Enjoy them. They really need sex from you. Their husbands don’t take care of them optimum sexually.”
“Because they suspect them.”
“And aren’t they right? Don’t my entire beautiful Musalmān lady friends ravenously have sex with you?”
“Nādirah Åzīm, if their husbands had provided them it they would have never needed me.”
“Why don’t you tell them it? Aren’t they your own friends? They pay you monthly heavy amounts as your Sex Therapy sessions with their extremely beautiful ardent Musalmān wives. Isn’t it a fact that they never want their wives cured? They actually want to get rid of them sexually.”
“Al Nādirah Al Åzīm.”
“Isn’t it a fact that today Musalmīn are tired of Islam actually? They have surrendered completely to the present materialistic western culture? They don’t want to waste their precious time in worthless sexual activities with their wives. They want to earn money instead. Their sexual responsibilities to their wives are burden for them. That’s why they have friendship with you.”
“You are not Sex Therapist for your filthy rich Musalmān friends actually.” Nādirah Åzīm blurted out furiously, “They call you that to deceive you. Actually they use you as an extremely successful Hindu male prostitute for their over sexy Musalmān houseladies. Isn’t it true? Tell me you don’t understand it. You aren’t that foolish yourself. Isn’t it?”
Muħammad Raħmān held her hand.
“It’s alright, Nādirah Åzīm. Our entire present social system is rotten absolutely now. It’s true cure is Islam. But there isn’t true Islam anywhere itself. Instead of fighting with non Muslims for Årab Imperialism if we Musalmīn…”
“Let me tell your over human Hindu stepfather that he must never think his filthy rich Musalmān friends are innocent. They are not. They want their Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān wives to have extramarital sex with Durgesh so that they are free to do their corporate business more successfully. I hate these hypocrisy oriented swines.”
Muħammad Raħmān smiled at me,
“Sorry, Dad. She is angry now. You know she respects you but she can’t bear your hypocrite Musalmān friends.”
“I understand, Muħammad Raħmān. My plans were canceled at the last minute anyway. By the way, where were you guys going again?”
“We’ll be at Al Raħīmah Al Raħmān’s. She’s hosting a party with a bunch of people you may or may not know. Nothing you need to worry about, I guess.” Nādirah Åzīm said flatly. “Now goodbye, sweetie. I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, she headed out the door.
I smiled sarcastically.
Nādirah Åzīm wasn’t so innocent herself as she tried to appear to everyone.
Why the hell otherwise she called me ‘sweetie’?
I was her father in law step or else.
I wasn’t her junior or equal even.
She never accepted me her father in law.
She still respected Muħammad Raħmān’s real father, my friend, Al Muħammad Al Åbbās.
Al Muħammad Al Åbbās was a sophisticated innocent multimillionaire that was too ethical to understand his wives sexual needs.
I took advantage of his generosity and fucked his entire extremely beautiful Musalmān wives one by one.
She could not understand why Al Muħammad Al Åbbās and Al Muħammad Al Raħmān both thought I was innocent and their immensely loyal family friend.
Muħammad Raħmān smiled.
“You don’t know anything. Durgesh Dad isn’t fucking our entire beautiful Musalmān houseladies. Our entire beautiful Musalmān houseladies are fucking Durgesh Dad instead. If Durgesh Dad isn’t keeping it secret…”
“What secret?” Nādirah Åzīm blurted out furiously, “What is secret there? Your youngest sister, Al Sāmiyah Al Raħmān’s eighteenth birthday hasn’t too old to forget. Durgesh inaugurated your sister. She celebrated inaugural honeymoon with Durgesh for complete one year. In that inaugural party didn’t Durgesh fuck every beautiful Musalmān lady invited there? Didn’t he fuck your beautiful Musalmān houseladies too with immense fanfare openly? Even the videos were prepared of the entire celebration and released with great pride. ‘Durgesh inaugurates Al Sāmiyah Al Raħmān at her eighteenth birthday, the youngest family member of Al Raħmān Al Åbbās family’. What is secret there I say?”
Muħammad Raħmān watched his twenty-eight years old extremely beautiful wife with immense sarcasm.
“And what about your own younger sister’s birthday? Didn’t Durgesh Dad inaugurate your younger sister Al Saħar Al Åzīm too? Didn’t your Abbū Åzīm Sāħab himself arranged for her inaugural honeymoon with Durgesh Dad? If our family does something it’s wrong and if your family does the same thing it’s right?”
“Certainly not.” Nādirah Åzīm said coldly, “I couldn’t stop Abbū in Al Saħar’s event but did I let my Abbū to inaugurate myself? Did I too celebrate my inaugural honeymoon with your Durgesh Dad?”
Muħammad Raħmān could not answer it.*
His parents were going to a Halloween party at their friend’s house, and his Ammī had left early to help get set up.
They were apparently going her friend Al Raħīmah Al Raħmān’s from work, and my head immediately shot to images of Al Raħīmah Al Raħmān who came over almost every week and I knew pretty well.
This Nādirah Åzīm’s friend was an absolute bombshell.
She was in her 30s, but she was incredibly fit and she was one of the hottest Musalmān women I’d ever recently met.
I’d imagined fucking her many times over the course of our acquaintance, and every time I met her, she winked at me, seemingly knowing something I didn’t.
I walked upstairs to my room, trying to picture what slutty costume she’d be wearing for Halloween, dreaming about one day being able to hit that.
She was married, though.
“Too bad,” I thought to myself.
I was set for a pretty interesting day with Nādirah Åzīm’s beautiful Musalmān lady friends, and reserved myself to messing around in my room, when after a few hours, I heard the phone ring.
I walked out of my room to get the phone, when the ringing stopped.
I stepped down the stairs and saw Muħammad Raħmān had answered it. I overheard what Muħammad Raħmān was saying.
“Are you sure you need me?” Muħammad Raħmān asked the voice on the phone, probably some work friend on the phone.
“Yeah, you’re right. That’s a pretty big account. We can’t afford to have anything happen. I’ll come down there tonight. Just let me get my things in order. I can be there in a few hours.” He continued, replying to a voice I couldn’t hear.
Apparently Muħammad Raħmān’s work needed him for something.
Muħammad Raħmān hung up the phone and turned around, seeing me on the staircase.
“Dad! There you are!” he said, walking toward me.
“What’s up, Muħammad Raħmān?” I asked, wondering what had happened.
“Oh, nothing. A client got cold feet and wants to be rewalked through everything. I have to go down to the property in Copperopolis. It’s a few hours away. I probably won’t be back until late tomorrow night.”
“Oh nonsense, really? That sucks… What about your party with Nādirah Åzīm?” I asked, wondering what he planned to do.
“Yeah, about that. I was gonna ask you if you’d go for me and tell your over ethical immensely conservative Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān daughter in law, your Bahū Bégum, that claims she is too ethical to have sex even with you the supreme successful Sex Therapist nowadays. Haha. She is crazy. She thinks I really believe it. Even if she is really as foolish as she really never enjoy the unique sexual bliss only you can provide I don’t think you too are as a damn fool as to leave her without fucking until now. She is herself too beautiful to leave her without. Go fuck her and tell her I couldn’t come. I know she’ll just wanna leave if she has to be there by herself, but I could tell she was looking forward to it. Would you mind going there for me, and staying for a bit so she can enjoy herself? I know it’s Nādirah Åzīm’s friends and it’s kind of a drag, but you’d be doing me a huge favor.” Muħammad Raħmān explained.*
Asmā Salmān reached down and rubbed my Uncut Hindu Dick, “”Well the boys have all left for the airport to get back for their finals and the wedding party is either passed out drunk in their rooms or…:otherwise occupied. It’s just you me and Saåīdah Zāfar who’s over there, helping the DJ pack up. We have to get all the wedding gifts home.”
Asmā Salmān gestured to the mountainous stack of brightly wrapped boxes of all shapes and sizes that overflowed the two gift tables we had set up.
I looked at the stack of presents and nodded.
“Yeah, I don’t think they’ll all fit in the Mercedes. Maybe we should have brought the Land Rover.”
My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife refrained from saying I told you so, but isn’t quite able to keep the smug look off her face.
However, if we had brought the Land Rover, I would be sober, or we would be spending the night in the hotel, since she refuses to drive it.
“Saåīdah Zāfar, stop flirting with him, and get over here.”, I shouted across the room at my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter, who was still wearing her bridesmaid dress, making her look a lot older than her tender age of 18 years.
The dress was a bright crimson floor length gown, with a slit up the left leg that stopped just short of paradise.
The bodice was strapless, sleeveless with a deep V, and it squeezed and lifted making even the smallest bust look mouth watering.
The gown had rhinestones encircling the waist, creating the illusion of a belt.
My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, told me the dress was so tight none of the bridesmaids could wear even the skimpiest of thongs, without having unsightly lines ruining the look.
I was very excited about that, until I realized my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter would also be going commando.
When I first saw the dress, the bodice and upper part of the skirt looked to be painted on, and then it flared out big enough to hide a person underneath. It was so tight and form fitting, that I asked my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, if it was painted on.
“No, silly, it warps around the wearer and there are several bra type fasteners to hold it closed. When it’s not wrapped around a body, it opens to be the size of a blanket.
“Durgesh!” Saåīdah Zāfar cried in whiny teenage voice.
She handed the DJ a piece of paper.
She walked over to me.
Before she could voice her complaint to me about being embarrassed, I told her,
“Go to the front desk and ask them to send a couple of bellhops in here with a few luggage racks, then show them what to load.”
Turning to My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, I said, “Pull the car up the side door down the hall, so we don’t have to walk across the entire hotel. That should save time. Meanwhile I need to change.”
My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, turned and left as I picked up my gym bag.
“Durgesh, why didn’t you tell me to bring a change of clothes?” Saåīdah Zāfar asked.
“Because I figured you’d be going home with the DJ.” I reply teasing her.
“Durgesh!” she said as I walked away laughing.
It was harder than I thought to get out of a tuxedo and into a pair of gym shorts and tee shirt when My Uncut Hindu Prick is rocking my world.
I finished the task, without setting any speed records, and then headed out to meet my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, to load the car.
Damn Al Muħammad Al Zāfar.
He left his wife and daughter to me because he had to attend a very important business meeting.
“But Zāfar,” I started to protest.
But he winked at me,
“You are my family Sex Therapist. Your Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān is your client. She is your responsibility now, not mine.”
I slapped him playfully.
As I walked by the bar, I stopped in and ordered three coffees to go.
It was already 1 a.m. and we had a two-hour drive home.
Moreover, I knew if my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter, or I fell asleep, my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, would be pissed.
If she fell asleep, we’d be dead.
When I arrived, there was already a huge pile of gifts to load.
“Thank God I played a lot a lot of Tetris” I joked to My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, as I began to carefully load the gifts to make sure nothing was damaged.
After almost 40 minutes of loading the car, all the gifts were packed in but only the driver and front passenger seat were left open.
One package was tall and long but thin, and it separated the driver and passenger seats leaving only a few inches open close to the roof.
“Good job genius, now we have two seats for three people.” My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, said condescendingly. “Where’s Saåīdah Zāfar going to sit?”
I stood up stretching my back and looked to see if there was any way to shift things around to free up just one more seat.
Throwing up my hands in despair, I told My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, “There’s no way to fit her in the car.”
“How about we tie some stuff to the roof?” My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, said.
I shook my head.
“I don’t know what’s in the boxes and I don’t want anything damaged before it’s unwrapped.”
One of the bellhops who had been helping,..
Well, truth be told he was staring at My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, and daughter, more than helping,
But I really couldn’t blame him.
My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, was still one sexy lady, especially for a mom of a 5 extremely beautiful daughters, the oldest being 25.
Hell she always is carded when her daughters go out for drinks.
And my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter, his beautiful daughter. She always was an attractive girl, but during her teen years, she blossomed into a real heartthrob.
She was 5’4” and I swore 3′ of that was legs.
She had an hourglass figure with 10 extra minutes just to make sure.
She had been asked several times to be a model by talent scouts, but she wanted to use her excellent Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān brains, not her equally excellent beautiful Musalmān body.
During the planning for the wedding I overheard My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, told the dress maker her measurements, 36B-24-36, and I remember thinking My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter is built like a brick shit house, and was never ashamed.
Well, why the hell should I?
The truth was the truth after all.
Al Muħammad Al Zāfar was more an ultramodern Westerner than he was a Musalmān.
Damn the bastard.
Then I saw her in this dress.
I was jealous of every person who has to see my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter in this dress, because they could all imagine stripping it off her young sexy body and doing things to her no father should ever know about.
“What did you say?” My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, asked the bellboy bringing me out of my reverie.
“When my parents helped me move to college, he said, “we had a similar problem. There wasn’t enough room in the car for mom Dad and me. So I drove and mom rode on my father’s lap.”
“Wasn’t it weird to have your mom sit on your father’s lap when you were present and driving the car…?” Saåīdah Zāfar asked the young man, pausing for his name.
“Ħamīd”, he offered his hand smiling at her in a way that made me want to punch him in his face. “Not really, it was actually one of the best road trips I’ve ever taken. It brought mom and Dad closer than ever before.”
His smile was really beginning to creep me out, so I stepped in front of Saåīdah Zāfar and said,
“Well, that won’t work. My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, needs to drive, so she can’t sit on Saåīdah Zāfar’s lap.”
“Maybe Saåīdah Zāfar could drive and Your Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān could sit on your lap.”
“That would work, if Saåīdah Zāfar hadn’t failed her driving test four times.” My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, told Ħamīd.
“I guess there’s only one solution.” Ħamīd said.
Ħamīd probably wouldn’t have suggested it if his brain wasn’t being preserved in alcohol. “Missy…Mom…Ma’am …” Ħamīd must have been drunker than I thought.
He wasn’t even sure what to call my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife,
“Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān drives and Saåīdah Zāfar sits on my lap.” I completed his sentence furiously.
“EWWW Durgesh…” she cried at the suggestion.
“Look honey…” I started to say, wanting to get my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter away from the drunken leeches that were coming back from the local bars and leering at her, as they slowly walked into the hotel, but Ħamīd interrupted.
“Saåīdah Ma’am, I felt the same way. But by the time the ride was over, my mom and my father were closer than ever. They visit me at least once a week, and I look forward to their visits. I’m sure it’ll do the same thing for you and Durgesh Sir.”
“Fuck it, I’m tired and want to get this dress off and get to bed. Let’s go.” Saåīdah Zāfar shouted.
Ħamīd gave me another of his creepy smiles as I got into the passenger seat and patted my lap for my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter to join me.
My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, got in the car and started it up.
Looking over at her, I could barely see the top of her head over the package.
Once my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter was settled in my lap, I reached out to shut the door, and I heard Ħamīd said,
“Have fun, Sir.” and then winked at me.
“What the fuck, is he queer,” I wondered as I shut the door.
We drove off into the night as I struggled to get the seat belt over us.
I was having trouble because a pillow was stopping me from putting the tab into the buckle.
I was about to say something when I realized that the pillow was actually my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughters breast.
I froze in place not sure what to do.
Saåīdah Zāfar sat there not moving, as I let go of the seat belt realizing there was no way it would reach around two bodies.
Then the thought occurred to me that her knees must be pressed into the dashboard, so I reached under the seat to slide it back, forgetting about her dress.
All I found was a smooth soft supple leg as my hand got tangled in the material of the dress.
“Are you two okay over there?” My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, called out as we pulled onto the fairly empty interstate.
“Yeah Ammī, we’re fine.” Saåīdah Zāfar said with some amusement in her voice.
“How about you, honey, are you okay?” she asked me.
Saåīdah Zāfar twisted to look at me as I tried to formulate a reply and untangle my hand from her dress at the same time.
“I think Durgesh’s going nighty nice”, Saåīdah Zāfar said winking at me.
“He better not, we still have to unload the car when we get home, and you know Durgesh. Once asleep nothing will wake him up.”
“I’m awake,” I said, “just lost in thought.”
“If either of you need a break, let me know. And I can stop in a rest area. Otherwise I plan on driving straight through.” Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān said.
Suddenly the car swerved to avoid something in the road, and Saåīdah Zāfar in her silk dress was sliding all over my lap.
The friction of her young adult Musalmān body on that part of mine, had the expected results.
Saåīdah Zāfar started to rock her hips, to get back into a comfortable position, which increased the attention my trouser snake was paying to the situation.
I tried to shift my hips so her body wouldn’t be rubbing against me, which only caused more rubbing.
“Durgesh, what’s that, it wasn’t there before?” My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter asked.
“What’s what honey?” My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, asked.
“It’s nothing darling.”, I said not wanting My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, or daughter to know I was getting a hard on.
To My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, I said, “I had something in my pocket that was making Saåīdah Zāfar uncomfortable. If she lifts up off me for a second, I can fix it.
I wasn’t shocked at how tan and toned her thigh was, however.
I had enjoyed millions of them already, and still enjoying.
My Bhogchakr managed to produce always such conditions.
Holding herself up I could easily see the muscles in her leg supporting her.
That wasn’t what I needed to see at that time, it just encouraged me to grow some more.
Grateful for the way her gown draped over my lap, I slid my hands into my shorts and forced my swollen Uncut Hindu Dick to rest between my legs.
Before the adjustment was complete, one of her hands slipped and she collapsed onto me.
Her ass could feel my hand and her head whipped around to look at me realizing that the lump she felt was the one that was visiting her mother’s womb nowadays for her Sex Therapy.
“Umm Saåīdah Zāfar…” I said not sure what to say in this situation.
She quickly lifted herself up letting me free my hand, but my Uncut Hindu Dick was still pressing into her derriere.
Instead of trying to position herself for minimal contact, she seemed to be intentionally using her gorgeous Musalmān ass to encourage it to grow more.
What a family.
She too was enjoying it instead of being embarrassed.
She spread her legs even wider so I could see almost her entire leg.
My Uncut Hindu Dick was beginning to throb under her, and Saåīdah Zāfar gasped as it started to poke up into her soft round Musalmān globes of flesh.
Saåīdah Zāfar had been sitting mostly upright this whole time, but now that my Uncut Hindu Dick and her gorgeous Musalmān ass were getting so well acquainted, she leaned back against me, and at that Moment, I realized that the gown was not designed to protect modesty.
Looking down over her shoulder, I could clearly see the swell of her breasts and even part of her areola.
That was all it took.
My Uncut Hindu Dick sprang and became rather insistent that it be freed.
My hands involuntarily wrapped around her waist.
Saåīdah Zāfar smiled at her victory, took my right hand in hers and put it on her inner thigh under the gown.
When I felt the forbidden flesh, I bent my head down and took a deep breath of her sweet smelling hair as my Hindu male body began to react like a man’s body instead of a family friend’s.
My hand started to rub and caress her beautiful smooth Musalmān thigh, as my mouth found her neck and began to kiss it.
“Mmmm” she moaned as I lightly nipped her tender skin.
She offered no resistance so far, even though part of her brain was screaming that this is not something a family friend should be doing to his friend’s daughter, but a bigger part of her was saying shut the fuck up and see how far you can go with this sexy young adult Musalmān teenager.
My Hindu male body shuddered in pleasure.
Saåīdah Zāfar brought both her hands to her chest and began to squeeze her breasts.
I was encouraged by watching her.
I slid my hand up and found her pussy.
I was shocked it was so wet, and I started to caress it with my fingers.
“What feels nice?” My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, asked.
“Durgesh is massaging me, and it feels wonderful. I don’t want him to stop.” Saåīdah Zāfar said as she took my other hand and placed it on her soft firm breast.
“You better give me a massage when we get home, buster, or you won’t be getting what you want.” My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, teased me as we continued down the interstate.
“I will honey. I will.” I replied as my hand freed my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter’s right tit from her gown.
I just sit there mesmerized at the view of her perky young Musalmān tit flesh.
“You guys know I’m here, right?” Saåīdah Zāfar said. “I really don’t want to know about your bedroom stuff. That’s gross.”
I chuckled as I began to rub her exposed nipple, and My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, replied “Oh grow up Saåīdah Zāfar! Sex between two people who love each other is natural and normal, as you’ll learn one day.”
“Oh, I’ve had sex Ammī.”, My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter announced, as she pulled down her top freeing her other breast for me to play with, “I just don’t want to picture you two fucking.”
I knew her well enough to tell she was shocked that Saåīdah Zāfar wasn’t a virgin, and she was going to let the subject drop for now.
She would wait until she was alone with Saåīdah Zāfar and not so tired and then there would be hell to pay.
I felt no such restraint.
“You’re not a Virgin?” I asked in shock as I slid a finger into her pussy.
I was feeling mixed emotions at the Moment,
I was upset that some dirty nasty boy had used My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter for his pleasure, but on the other hand, it meant that maybe, just maybe she wasn’t a cock tease and I just might get to fuck her.
“OH Durgesh be real. I haven’t been a virgin since 9th grade.”
My Uncut Hindu Cock leapt in joy on hearing these words, and I slipped two fingers into her pussy, feeling her juices begin to freely flow. “So you’re a little slut.” I said teasing her as I pinched one nipple and then the other.
I could feel the atmosphere in the car change with those words.
My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, got very tense and stopped speaking.
Saåīdah Zāfar had basically invited me to fuck her, and to let her know I accepted, I pushed a third finger into her folds and began to finger fuck her.
As we drove down the highway in silence, I kept fingering her and playing with her exposed tits.
I yanked my hands off my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter cautious that somehow she had seen what I was doing.
I was trying to form a reply but Saåīdah Zāfar beat me too it.
“The 18 wheeler next to us. He’s been pacing us for a few miles and it’s making me nervous.”
I looked out my window and sure enough, there’s a tractor-trailer right next to us.
I look up at the long bearded Musalmān driver who gave me a thumbs up and a big smile.
I realized he’s been watching my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter and I fool around.
“I think he noticed your daughter, especially the way the gown enhances her.” I said to my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān.
Saåīdah Zāfar blushed when she realized she’s not only exposed to me but to any other travelers on the road.
Hurriedly she covered her breasts and tried to push my hand out of her dripping wet Musalmān pussy.
“Fucking pervert.” My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, said and slammed on the brakes to let him pass us.
Then she moved behind the truck to protect her daughter’s modesty.
“I’m going to pull over at the next rest stop. Let him get a few miles ahead of us, and I need to use the restroom.”
“Okay dear.” I said, “I can stretch my legs.”
We pull into a rest area.
The truck side was packed full of big rigs, but the car area was empty.
No one was moving around.
We had the place to ourselves.
My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, parked the car and shut it off.
I pulled my hand out of my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter and she adjusted her gown to hide her leg.
My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, walked over to our side of the car, opened the car door and helped Saåīdah Zāfar out.
I climbed out with a groan, not realizing how stiff my legs had gotten.
“I’m going to take a walk and work out the kinks in my legs” I said, my face reddening at my words.
I hoped it escaped notice since we had parked in a dark area of the rest area.
“I’ll walk with Durgesh.” Saåīdah Zāfar said taking my hand in hers.
My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, nodded, turned and headed towards the bathrooms.
She looked at it gently stroking it and I leaned back letting her.
She kissed the tip, then took the whole thing into her young beautiful adult Musalmān mouth and began to give me one of the most erotic blowjobs I ever experienced recently.
She wasn’t all that talented, but being half in the bag, combined with the multiple taboos made it so much better.
My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter made up for in enthusiasm what she lacked in experience.
I was wrong.
It was stiff before, now it was hard.
I didn’t want to waste my load in her mouth.
I pulled myself out of her warm mouth and pulled her up.
Decades of pent up passion were focused in this kiss.
The duel our tongues fought made the sword fight between Inigo Montoya and the Dread Pirate Roberts look like a square dance.
Regrettably, I broke the kiss and spun Saåīdah Zāfar around, so she could lean up against the wall.
I squatted down and with my hands, I pulled open her dress at the split.
I, even the utmost experienced utmost successful Sex Therapist couldn’t deny it.
I couldn’t resist.
I buried my face in My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter’s sopping wet Musalmān pussy and began to kiss it all over.
The clacking of heels on cement announced My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān’s imminent arrival and our probable getting caught. But I just couldn’t stop now.*
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam