The plan for New Year’s Day was to drink.
She had about a dozen dumb comedy movies to watch, ranging from the “Three Stooges” right up until the latest straight to DVD “National Lampoon”.
They had started drinking right away.
At first, it was cocktails and lighter beers.
However, by the time they had gotten to “Animal House” they were crashing back shots of the hard stuff in some random rhythm or game.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ thought the game was based on eighties catch phrases.
We each were allowed to choose one cliché and every time a character used it, the other person had to take a shot.
Needless to say, by the time midnight hit, they were both totally smashed.
In fact, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ didn’t really remember midnight at all.
She just remembered hitting the bed.
When Al Samīnah Al Faraħ woke four hours later, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ had a splitting headache and extraordinarily parched throat.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was downstairs in the den bedroom and her role model I was sleeping out beside her, heavily.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ tried waking me, but I didn’t budge.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ went to the kitchen for several glasses of water.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was a little surprised by the intensity of the mess they had left and the amount of alcohol they had consumed.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was normally not a heavy drinker and never had really pushed the limits of her intake, but she figured out that Al Samīnah Al Faraħ wasn’t a lightweight that night.
Cans, bottles, glasses, and cartons all littered the rooms.
Smatterings of snacks and wrappers joined the mix.
After finding a somewhat clean glass, that Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was pretty sure was hers, the lipstick on the edge kind of was a giveaway.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ poured a glass of water.
The filtered stuff was in the fridge, and Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was a bit fearful that light would inflict a rise in the already devastating headache.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ guzzled water for a good ten minutes, weakly supporting herself against the edge of the sink until Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was sure her bladder was going to blow.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ took what had to be a record pee and probably fell asleep sitting on the toilet for a bit too.
When Al Samīnah Al Faraħ finally made her grand and lady-like exit from the restroom, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ decided to change and head back to bed.
Her bag was right by the door where Al Samīnah Al Faraħ left it.
She changed into her nightie, a XXL ACDC T-shirt that had been a gift from a friend, and managed to wobbly make her way back to the bedroom.
I had managed to move a little farther into the center of the bed and was still sleeping quite deeply.
Still a little buzzed, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ giggled.
In my sixty-fifth even, I was still in what they called combat fitness, a silly term her Abbū had picked up from a brief kick in the Marines when he was a youth.
My black hair was now laced with gray, which resulted in me having that refined regality that only older men can get.
My sharp jaw line and broad shoulders finished the look perfectly. Pretty handsome.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ, and her sisters, all had gotten their Ammī’s looks.
The same long brunette hair, broad curls, coy dark eyes, and pouty Musalmān lips.
They also had gotten her figure- long legs, full chest and hips, and small waists.
All of them could have been models if they had been born ten years earlier, before the advent of the bulimic/ anorexic super model.
If they wanted, they probably could still model for plenty of publications.
None of them reputable.
Nevertheless, at the point in time, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ wasn’t thinking about herself, just how cute I looked.
It was kind of one of those standing trance things that happens when someone is tired and creatively inebriated.
After waking from another doze off, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ crawled back into bed and snuggled her way up close to me.
One of my legs was kicked out, taking up the lower half of the bed so Al Samīnah Al Faraħ pushed in, practically spooning.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ tried going to sleep, but found herself a little caught off guard by a wave of emotional remembrance.
It started with her ex, progressed its way to her Ammī, then back to her ex again.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was thinking about the time when Al Samīnah Al Faraħ had brought up her bisexuality.
They had just finished a regular good night round of lovemaking and were chatting afterwards.
She had brought up the possibility of them having a child together, either through adoption or in vitro.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ had asked how she would feel if they had a mutual Hindu male friend of theirs do it.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ had told her Al Samīnah Al Faraħ preferred knowing who the dad was and would enjoy doing it the natural way.
She had made some off the cuff remark about me being straight and Al Samīnah Al Faraħ had just come out and told her that Al Samīnah Al Faraħ wasn’t entirely convinced that Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was completely a gay.
Then the fight had started and they had been split up by the time they woke up the next morning.
A lot of stuff happened at night for her.
And this would be no exception.
By the time Al Samīnah Al Faraħ had broken from her daydream she realized that Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was a bit aroused.
That wasn’t unusual as Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was almost always horny, but usually regularly satiated during the course of a day.
Going one day, much less four days without sex, was a daunting task.
Now Al Samīnah Al Faraħ had the familiar glowing warmth beginning in the pit of her stomach and spreading downward.
Nevertheless, what made it unusual was the fact that Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was in bed with me.
Only to complicate things, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ could feel my Sixty five years old, utmost experienced, utmost talented, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund pushing against her backside, just between her upper thighs and behind the rear of her cleft. Like most guys, I had a perpetual hard on that was rising at the most inopportune of times.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ had tried to ignore its contact at first, but found herself having a growing fascination with its point of contact and the movements it made when I breathed in and out in a deep sleep.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was sure that some persons are a little grossed out by this revelation.
Nevertheless, as Al Samīnah Al Faraħ have already said, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ had been drinking and wasn’t in possession of her full faculties.
Considering this, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ hoped a normal person can cut her some slack for this and for what came next.
Rather than take the natural Musalmān reaction and recoil, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ lingered.
And thought about it some more.
And lingered some more.
All the while, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ got a little more curious, a little wetter, and a little more ready to do something else.
The next move was a small one, cautious to be sure. Al Samīnah Al Faraħ pushed back.
The movement sent the tip of my penis a little farther in between her thighs and a little closer to the center of all her life’s troubles.
And it felt good!
Really quite good.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ doesn’t know how she managed to disconnect her ardent Musalmān conscience or common sense or whatever, but Al Samīnah Al Faraħ did.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ had fantasized once or twice in her life about Hindu man Musalmān women relationships, myself included, but usually it was just for a story Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was writing or for a little role-playing.
When Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was younger, her sisters and Al Samīnah Al Faraħ had experimented quite a bit, but had gone their separate ways without ever engaging in a truly intentional sexual encounter.
Perhaps that all contributed to her disconnect and progression.
Her shirt was pulled tightly against her cleft, over her beautiful Musalmān ass, and over her shoulders.
It was kind of applying a bit too much pull to her neck.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ pulled it free from between us.
The removal of the barrier, even one millimeter of it made it a significant difference.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ felt the first of a series of powerful spasms that preempted a jump in lust within her.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ moved her beautiful young Musalmān torso a little farther forward on the bed, so that her Musalmān ass could slight ever so farther back over the head of my Sixty five years old, utmost experienced, utmost talented, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund.
The movement enabled the desired shift and soon Al Samīnah Al Faraħ could feel the thick tip of my Hindu manhood pressing through my athletic shorts and into the camel toe that had formed in her panties.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ waited for what seemed like an eternity, wondering whether or not I would wake and pondering what to do next.
Of course, it was an obvious decision to make.
At least it was for Al Samīnah Al Faraħ.
She rocked her hips.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was slow, deliberate, and intentional.
Ever so quietly, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ pushed back and forth over my tenting shorts.
It was like some sort of taboo masturbation.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ could feel her nipples poking through the thin material of her tee as Al Samīnah Al Faraħ grew more and more aroused by the sensation of her lips being pulled apart by the combined presence of panties, shorts, and my Sixty five years old, utmost experienced, utmost talented, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund.
Her strokes were slow enough that the warm liquid which quickly filled the gash had the chance to cool.
The shift in temperature and contact was an exquisite torture and Al Samīnah Al Faraħ found her own breathing growing heavier and heavier.
Her hands couldn’t resist further temptation and pulled her shirt up over her breasts, so they could have direct access.
One of them would support her head in the crook of her arm, while the other tugged and pulled on a turgid nipple or two.
As my Sixty five years old, utmost experienced, utmost talented, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund pushed farther and farther into the space of her Panjvaqtah Namāzī young Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot, her pleasure grew and grew.
Of course, that would probably wake me, and Al Samīnah Al Faraħ couldn’t allow that.
Over and over again Al Samīnah Al Faraħ would buck her hips onto the first inch of my Sixty five years old, utmost experienced, utmost talented, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ could tell there was more there, if only Al Samīnah Al Faraħ could access it.
But did Al Samīnah Al Faraħ dare?
With her own Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān juices easily lubricating outward, covering her Panjvaqtah Namāzī young Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot, her panties, and my shorts in a thick coating of mess, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ found herself thinking there was no other choice.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ momentarily released her hold on her tit, reached between her legs, and tugged her boy shorts down, until they were at her ankles.
Then Al Samīnah Al Faraħ went to work on my shorts.
It was slow going.
The first time Al Samīnah Al Faraħ touched me, I lurched in my sleep.
It startled me.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ quickly pulled her own hand back and pretended to sleep for a few minutes, wondering whether I was awake or not.
When Al Samīnah Al Faraħ heard my snoring return to a regular rhythm, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ assumed it was safe to resume her attempt.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ didn’t stroke it, or anything like that.
Just petted it a bit.
Kind of brushed her fingers up and over it, rubbing the wet tip of my shorts with her thumb, until Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was certain more could be attempted.
Of course, stroking the Sixty five years old, utmost experienced, utmost talented, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund through clothing had its own element of eroticism and her Musalmān snatch managed to retain its generous moisture level.
After a little more mutual petting of my Sixty five years old, utmost experienced, utmost talented, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund and her young, ravenous, Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ shifted her attention to the hem of my shorts.
It was another torturously slow process, with several near misses and risky moves.
The Sixty five years old, utmost experienced, utmost talented, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund, now free of its prison twitched and jumped of its own volition, its purple ‘shroom shaped head brushing over her sensitive backside and scraping against her soft Musalmān skin.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was toying with her ravenous Musalmān clit, while Al Samīnah Al Faraħ contemplated the contacts and encounters of our two naked regions.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ got herself off for the first time like that.
The sudden heat separating her two globes had gotten me there.
Small gasps and shudders of pleasure were breaking now from her young Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot‘s depths and spreading upwards and outwards until Al Samīnah Al Faraħ squeaked to maintain control of her wild animal Musalmān movements.
Upon its settling, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ found her fingers covered in her own juices and her body dissatisfied.
A little disconcerted that Al Samīnah Al Faraħ still wanted more Al Samīnah Al Faraħ went to work again.
After licking her fingers clean, savoring her taste, a habit an old lover had established, and returning them once more to her quivering lips, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ decided to kick it up a gear.
With her hand once again coated in natural lubricant, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ reached between her thighs and pulled my Sixty five years old, utmost experienced, utmost talented, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund forward once again.
Once it was pressed in that sweet spot at the back of her cunny, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ started to rock all over.
Her shifts and thrusts were gentle at first, but as my Sixty five years old, utmost experienced, utmost talented, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund progressed farther and farther over the length of her labia and outer lips, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ became a little more urgent in her female Musalmān need.
The head of my Sixty five years old, utmost experienced, utmost talented, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund was pasted with her young, Panjvaqtah Namāzī, Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot‘s output, glided easily between her lips and about a half inch in before it slipped out the backside.
Course its exit was only temporary.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ couldn’t handle a second or two without feeling that firm piece of Hindu flesh filling her once more.
As her desire built, and another orgasm approached, she became less and less in control of what Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was doing.
The smooth swipes of my Sixty five years old, utmost experienced, utmost talented, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund through the entrance of her Musalmān twat faded like a cloud in sunlight.
Each new half inch promised more and her familiar needy Musalmān itch asked for a little more depth.
And silly Al Samīnah Al Faraħ, out of control and in heat, granted its wish.
That bit was the difference between sliding along the outside and between thrusting into Al Samīnah Al Faraħ.
As soon as my large wedge shaped Sixty five years old, utmost experienced, utmost talented, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund head pushed its way firmly into her young, Panjvaqtah Namāzī, Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot, and Al Samīnah Al Faraħ felt the lower portions of her Musalmān twat walls falling in behind it, she knew Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was a goner. she just had to have more.
Of course, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was very well lubricated from the ongoing sex play that had now progressed a good three hours non-stop.
Naturally, with the swiftest and least disruptive thrusts, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ could manage, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ penetrated herself on my Sixty five years old, utmost experienced, utmost talented, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund.
Allah! Måshā’Allah! SubħānAllah!
How heavenly it was.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ felt like Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was riding some forbidden fruit, my broad Hindu spear shaped organ dividing her young Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot temporarily, only to recede before renewing its assault.
Like growing waves as the tide comes in, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ found herself rushing her young Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot farther and farther onto my Sixty five years old, utmost experienced, utmost talented, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund.
Her thrusting joined with squirming, with spasming, with grinding to create some sensational autoerotic experience.
Fireworks began to go off in her head as her second orgasm crashed through me.
That was probably when Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was at the greatest risk of being caught and revealing her use of my Hindu manhood.
However, I didn’t miss a beat, my only change a momentary cry of desire of pleasure for her Ammī, in some wonderful wet dream I was experiencing.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ had just completed her climax and was working my Sixty five years old, utmost experienced, utmost talented, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund deeper and deeper into her young Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot, when Al Samīnah Al Faraħ felt me go off.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ thought Al Samīnah Al Faraħ felt the gentle tapping of my Hindu sperm shooting against an inner wall, but wasn’t entirely sure, until Al Samīnah Al Faraħ heard me groan and thrust up to meet me.
Aftershock orgasms went off in her as she struggled to comprehend the intense taboo and risk Al Samīnah Al Faraħ had just taken.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ had to stifle a cry with her young Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot playing hand and Al Samīnah Al Faraħ felt my Sixty five years old, utmost experienced, utmost talented, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund throb and twitch in her Panjvaqtah Namāzī young Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān tunnel.
My balls were spasming against her thighs as they unloaded their burden into her ravenous ardent Musalmān womb.
It would be a fantasy filled rest that lasted a few short hours before Al Samīnah Al Faraħ once again woke.
I was rolled off of my back now.
My Sixty five years old, utmost experienced, utmost talented, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund limply folded over atop my shorts and a white coating of my sex and hers was covering it.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ studied me over her shoulder until Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was certain that I was still asleep.
I was resting more peacefully now, my snoring faded to a gentle mute rather than the foghorn sounded from others.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ didn’t want me to discover our activities before Al Samīnah Al Faraħ had the chance to disguise them.
Therefore, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ went to work again.
With an all too eager hand, she began to beat me off.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ lifted my soft length and gently stroked its underside with her thumb.
Almost immediately, the thing leapt to attention, pointing towards the far off underside.
Obviously, I wasn’t getting enough Musalmān ass for my own good.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ happily helped out.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ spit into her palm and rubbed her fingers into her saliva until they were well lubricated.
Then with a tight young Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot, she began to steadily pump my Sixty five years old, utmost experienced, utmost talented, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund, once again.
Allah! Måshā’Allah! SubħānAllah! What a Lund!
The familiar warmth of a hot Sixty five years old, utmost experienced, utmost talented, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund emanated from within her vaginal Musalmān grip as Al Samīnah Al Faraħ gave me a furious fucking.
It was on one such occasion that Al Samīnah Al Faraħ felt a sudden random pulse on my Hindu length and she knew I was coming.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ clamped down at the base of my cock, locking my Hindu semen inside temporarily and used her spare hand to pull my shorts down entirely.
Once her young Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot was safely covering my Sixty five years old, utmost experienced, utmost talented, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund’s tip, I released it.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ quickly closed her eyes and pushed down, her cum stained fingers going to her lips.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ had just sampled the goods and was savoring the salty taste of my Hindu seed when Al Samīnah Al Faraħ heard me wake.
“What the fuc….,” I managed before realizing Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was “asleep” on me, nude, having my Sixty five years old, utmost experienced, utmost talented, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund entirely into her young Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ had fucked me wildly entire night!
With a whispered exclamation, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ heard me waddle from the room.
With a hardy grin Al Samīnah Al Faraħ finished tasting my wares and rose from the bed.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ managed to trip and fall as Al Samīnah Al Faraħ tried to take her first step, having forgotten that her underwear were still wrapped tightly around her ankles.
Giggling loudly Al Samīnah Al Faraħ pulled them up, seeming to have gotten away with her night’s adventures and molestations.
I would behave strangely the rest of the following day and into the next.
Eventually my concerns would fade and things would return largely to normal between us.
Course, her life would change a lot eight weeks later.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ had missed her period twice and was putting on some weight.
After a few early warning tests, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ became very aware that Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was pregnant.
Pregnant from me!
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ smiled triumphantly, even proudly somewhat.
Now, Durgesh was hers too, forever.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ had a New Year’s Day conception!
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Āmnah Azhar laughed impishly,
In Surah (56)AI-Waqi`ah the same thing has been described as Kitab-um-Maknun (the hidden and preserved Book) and in Surah (85)AI-Buruj 22 as Lauh-i Mahfuz (the Preserved Tablet), that is, the Tablet whose writing cannot be effaced, which is secure from every kind of interference.
By saying that the Qur’an is inscribed in Umm al-Kitab, attention has been drawn to an important truth.
Different Books had been revealed by Allah in different ages to different Prophets for the guidance of different nations in different languages, but aII these Books invited mankind to one and the same Faith: they regarded one and the same thing as the Truth; they presented one and the same criterion of good and evil; they propounded the same principles of morality and civilization; in short, they brought one and the same Din (Religion).
The reason was that their source and origin was the same, only words were different; they had the same meaning and theme which is inscribed in a Source Book with Allah, and whenever there was a need, He raised a Prophet and sent down the same meaning and subject-matter clothed in a particular diction according to the environment and occasion.
Had Allah willed to raise the Prophet Muhammad (upon whom be His peace) in another nation instead of the Arabs, He would have sent down the same Qur’an in the language of that nation.”’
“What do you want to say actually, Āmnah Azhar?”
“Don’t tell me that you didn’t understand.” Āmnah Azhar smiled, “I would never believe. You are too wise that no one can believe you didn’t understand.”
“And why does Allah need to keep this Source Book with him?”
“Simple, so that there could never be any alteration Allah doesn’t want in the Source Book.” Āmnah Azhar smiled triumphantly, “Stupid question. I never thought you can’t understand even such a simple necessity.”
“I see.” I smiled patiently, “So, you think Allah can save this Source Book, Alkitāb, from any unwanted alteration only if it’s with Him? As soon as it’s out of His exclusive possession, Allah is, Shanno Mitrah, never capable to keep it safe from it? You really think Allah is that much incapable, Shanno Mitrah sham Varuñah shanno bhavatvaryamā!”*
Her partner and Al Samīnah Al Faraħ had just broken up.
It wasn’t that big of a deal, but she had probably been the one Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was most ready to settle down with.
They’d been together for a year.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ had thought that they were on a great track that had a promising future.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was optimistic that within the coming years there would be equal rights and at least general acceptance of their lifestyle.
However, when Al Samīnah Al Faraħ told her that she didn’t think that Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was truly a “lesbian”, she took offense.
It didn’t matter that Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was genuinely attracted to her, or that they had great chemistry.
In the end, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ wasn’t “real”.
Her bisexuality was a problem and it brought to an end what seemed so bright only days before.
As a result, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ ended up back home over New Year’s Day weekend.
That’s kind of how Al Samīnah Al Faraħ got into the situation that she currently found herself in.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was thinking that Al Samīnah Al Faraħ would just get some time away from the pressures of office and the break up and take a breather.
Her sisters, normally her support crew, were off enjoying their own lives in different parts of the world and were probably out working it with someone special for the big January 1.
Not Al Samīnah Al Faraħ.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ would just be home alone with me.
That’s the other part of her situation, I.
Despite being extremely loyal to the Pseudo Islam and Kashmir valley, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ loved me to death, but sometimes I was a bit over mature.
Growing up with a coop immensely full of hens, I learned almost everything about them.
Three daughters and their Ammī.
Naturally, I got quite clued in.
When Al Samīnah Al Faraħ asked to come over for the holiday, I had promised her a fun care-free time.
And I had delivered.
I managed to take her mind off her break up, her ex, and getting acclimated to a life of singleness all over again.
Course, I managed to do that by getting us both smashed.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ had driven the hour from office to the house Al Samīnah Al Faraħ had grown up in and had arrived to find a sizable amount of alcoholic beverages and liquors spread out across the counter tops.
Never surrendered to me for keeping Alcohol out of their life.
Sometimes, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ thought whether Durgesh is really right.
They wanted to establish Islamic supremacy on Hindus either this way or that way.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī was neither nude nor he needed to.
I was nude and serving his extremely beautiful young Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān wife, Āmnah Azhar with my Sixty five years old, utmost experienced, utmost talented, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund penetrating her young Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot profoundly.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī was lying on his back on the bed.
Āmnah Azhar wasn’t alone enjoying his such services.
Al Nādirah Al Ghāzī was the everfirst that used her younger brother’s tongue for it.
Then it was Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī, their Ammī.
Then their beautiful Musalmān houseladies.
His tongue was so expert in this service now that he was more popular among needy beautiful Musalmān houseladies and their beautiful Musalmān ladyfriends as a tongue service provider than as a normal man even.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī even enjoyed our Ashvinātam sexual orgasms when our secretions naturally fell into his open mouth.
I knew their activities were not normal.
After Narendr Modi won the election 2014 and became the 15th Prime Minister of India, Al Nādir Al Ghāzī’s such services were so much in demand that he approached other similar minded Pseudo Musalmīn friends of him and started a regular tongue service providing commercial network.
Shankar Mahāpralayankar, Sidrah Aħmad and Rājesh Rājpūt were approached, and they delightfully congratulated Al Nādir Al Ghāzī and his similar cuckold Musalmān friends for providing such superb services to Hindus and their Musalmān beloveds.
“It’s a totally new approach. Of course, Durgesh, Imām Muħammad Ħasan, and similar over humane Hindus would never appreciate it, but the Hindu society is not made of such ever impractical persons only.”
“Let’s get you ready,” Lākhan Singh said.
He stood in front of Shamīmah Iftikħār and expertly pulled her nightgown over her head.
Shamīmah Iftikħār couldn’t believe this was happening.
Now Shamīmah Iftikħār was breathing so hard it felt like panting.
Lākhan Singh put his hands on her ankles.
“Relax,” he said.
Then he propped her legs up on the couch so Shamīmah Iftikħār was spread wide open.
Shamīmah Iftikħār ached for release.
Shamīmah Iftikħār had already gotten herself going before, now this was something out of a fantasy.
Shamīmah Iftikħār tried to grab his head and keep it there.
He took her hand and stepped aside.
Shamīmah Iftikħār realized someone was standing there- no, five people.
The crowd outside was now in the house.
He was maybe twenty-five with a smiling, eager face.
Brown hair, average build, and naked.
Shamīmah Iftikħār stared at it.
4-5 inches long.
Her stomach felt tight, her hands shook a little.
He stroked himself for a few seconds, eyes locked on her naked skin.
Shamīmah Iftikħār saw a tiny drop of precum on the tip of its head.
Shamīmah Iftikħār closed her eyes, trying to control her breathing.
This is what Shamīmah Iftikħār wanted, right?
But Shamīmah Iftikħār can’t!
Not like this.
Her breath stopped.
Shamīmah Iftikħār felt Lākhan Singh squeeze her hand again.
Well, that’s what they said was at stake!
Vīr Vikram Pratāp pushed all the way in, then slowly started fucking Shamīmah Iftikħār in a steady rhythm.
Each one felt different.
Each experience was amazing.
Rājesh Rājpūt laughed.
“We Pakistani Sunni Musalmān women love Durgesh, but we hate you, Rājesh Rājpūt! Shankar Mahāpralayankar! Sidrah Aħmad! You are crazy persons. Durgesh is of course radically different from you communal animal Hindus.”
Shankar Mahāpralayankar laughed.
“Rājesh Rājpūt, Shamīmah Iftikħār, the great Pakistani Sunni Musalmān politician loves Durgesh, the Anant Muslimātchod Hindu, instead of us. Durgesh is really a miracle. Entire beautiful Musalmān houseladies want to get his Sixty five years old, utmost experienced, utmost talented, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund into their Musalmān Choots without any single exception even.”
“Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan Bājī and her ever enthusiast Young Musalmān Lady Brigade is managing it all. they cunningly, shrewdly and intelligently plan to advertise the fantastic attributes of Durgesh’s Sixty five years old, utmost experienced, utmost talented, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund. I see even every beautiful Pakistani Sunni Musalmān Choot is crazy to get it inside her.”*
It was still dark outside when I opened my eyes.
My Sixty five years old, utmost experienced, utmost talented, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund was still buried entirely into her still miraculously tight Panjvaqtah Namāzī Pakistani Sunni Musalmān Choot.
Alas, Muħammad Naåīm couldn’t give her what I could, neither money, nor sex.
I smiled to myself as I looked at it.
It was the 3rd night of our ten-day vacation in Kashmir valley.
It was the reason Sāliħah Faisal separated herself from Muħammad Naåīm.
“It’s wrong. It’s a sin in Islam.” Muħammad Naåīm had refused Sāliħah Faisal outright.
“Well,” Sāliħah Faisal thundered, “I’m your wife, and I love it.”
Muħammad Naåīm was startled
“Isn’t my ass extraordinarily beautiful?”
“Of course, it is. Of course, it is. But it doesn’t mean…”
“What do you mean ‘Why?’? It’s wrong. It’s a sin.” Muħammad Naåīm was quite surprised.
“I hinted you before our marriage.” Sāliħah Faisal said curtly.
“You said you’d see to it.”
“That’s right, Sāliħah Faisal, but…”
“No but, you promised me. I need it.”
Muħammad Naåīm didn’t oblige her and it brought Sāliħah Faisal ultimately to me.
Still smiling, I quietly slid out of bed and went into the bathroom to relieve myself.
Turning the light back off before I opened the bathroom door into the bedroom, as not to disturb Sāliħah Faisal, I quietly grabbed my robe from the chaise at the foot of the bed and slipped it on.
Opening the door of our room, I quietly crept out and walked down the hall of our dull jheel side condo.
HVSI owned several beautiful enormous structures in Kashmir valley.
I always enjoyed this time of the day.
I enjoyed watching the sunrise before the world awoke and got its day started.
Making sure as not to make any noise and wake the kids up, I put some coffee on.
Once the kids were up our day would be nonstop.
Well, at least when the boys woke up.
My boys from Sāliħah Faisal, Devesh and Shubhesh, were 11 and 9.
Her oldest was Sāliħah Faisal’s daughter, Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm.
She was 19.
Once my coffee was ready, I poured myself a cup and walked to the sliding glass door that lead out to the deck.
I walked out on to the deck, quietly slid the door and closed behind me.
I pulled a chair close to the edge of the deck and sat down in it.
Promptly propping my feet up on the railing in front of me.
I inhaled deeply the aromatic aroma of my coffee before enjoying the first sip.
I was a man at peace.
I owned my own consulting firms under HVSI and it made a good living for my entire families.
My friend, Muħammad Naåīm’s wonderful extremely beautiful wife, of 22 years, Sāliħah Faisal, was a wedding consultant.
Between the two of us, our incomes afforded us opportunities I would have loved to have as a child myself.
As I reflected, I thought about our children.
Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm was 19 and was my girl to the core.
Her own Abbū, Muħammad Naåīm, was a loser in her eyes.
She was sympathetic for him, yet he wasn’t her hero, I was.
A loser can get sympathies, but none wants to be as him.
He was ‘poor Abbū’, as far as Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm was concerned.
She had graduated high school the year prior and was just completing her first year of junior college.
I was so proud of her.
No one could deny that Sāliħah Faisal’s oldest was a beauty indeed.
With her stunning looks, she had landed her first modeling gig at sixteen.
At 5’7, she had chocolate brown eyes and they were framed by long spiky lashes.
Her hair that hung just at her shoulder blades was thick and a light honey brown color.
It complemented her flawless creamy coffee complexion.
What made it worse, from a fatherly perspective, was how curvaceously shaped her body was.
Although she modeled, she was no string bean.
I had no idea her exact chest size or clothing size, but I did know that she had very full breasts, a curvy waist and an ass, that when she wore a bikini made men do double takes.
This didn’t bring comfort to me, however.
That was the baby girl they were ogling.
Nevertheless, what surprised me even more was how comfortable Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm was with her body.
Not that I wanted Sāliħah Faisal’s daughter, to have a distorted body image, but she was comfortable to the point that around the house she wore things that Sāliħah Faisal would have to remind her to cover up because she had brothers.
At the shore of the jheel, it was even worse.
The back of her bikini bottom, if one could call it that did little to hide her wonderful Pakistani Sunni Musalmān assets.
I always teased her and called her double trouble because she had brains and beauty both.
I would tell her she would be a formidable match for any man.
I didn’t worry as much about Devesh and Shubhesh as I did Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm.
Devesh was more a rough and tumble boy, whereas Shubhesh was the more sensitive one.
I chalked that up to the fact that Shubhesh was definitely an Ammī’s boy through and through.
Sāliħah Faisal babied him almost to a fault.
That was the one area Sāliħah Faisal and I, as parents, disagreed with each other the most.
I felt that she babied Shubhesh too much and was making him too dependent on her.
Sāliħah Faisal felt that I never came to her defense where Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm was concerned.
Sāliħah Faisal and Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm butted heads, the older Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm got.
That, however, doesn’t mean that they didn’t have a good mother daughter relationship, but Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm’s fiercely independent spirit definitely had its moments when it clashed with Sāliħah Faisal’s over protective mothering.
When Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm turned 18 and started being a bit less conservative, in her manner of dress, that was when they really started butting heads.
Less conservative meaning her clothes tended to accentuate that body that I was so cautious for her about.
However, I believed Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm to be an adult and she should be allowed to make her own decisions.
I was so lost in my musings that I didn’t seem to notice the time passing and the sky was just starting to lighten.
As my eyes scanned out on the shore of the jheel, I noticed someone out there.
My, I thought, someone’s out here even earlier than I am.
As my eyes focused, the person appeared to be maybe doing yoga out on the shore of the jheel.
It was hard for me to tell.
I leaned a bit forward in my chair and let my eyes focus.
It appeared to be a woman.
She was on her back with her legs tucked under her.
Her back was arched though pushing her chest high into the sky.
Her arms were stretched out beside her and her head resting on the sand.
The light in the sky was lightening up enough that I was starting to see a little clearer.
My eyes widened and my mouth gaped open as I discerned two things at once.
One, the woman wasn’t wearing a bikini top.
I could clearly see the definition of her full breasts.
Her nipples pert and pointing in the air.
But secondly, and more importantly, that woman wasn’t just any woman, it was Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm.
I was dumbfounded.
Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm was topless and doing yoga on the shore of the dull jheel.
As if completely oblivious to me sitting there, Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm got up from the position she’d been lying in.
She stood with her back to me.
I suddenly remembered Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan.
Was Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm doing the same thing?
I, still sitting there now saw that she was not just topless but bottomless as well.
Something in my brain told me to get up and go in the house.
However, I sat there almost paralyzed.
I’d seen Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm’s butt before, but covered a little at least with a bikini bottom.
But now, with her back to me I had a completely unobstructed view, and the view was incredible.
Her cheeks were plump and full. The kind that a man could lose my load over doing her from behind.
I felt a distinct reaction to this thought.
My face didn’t froze, in horror, as I realized looking at Sāliħah Faisal’s daughter’s ass was giving me a hard on.
It was normal for me now.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s Just Eighteen Just Adult and Al Jihād fil Durgesh fī sabīlillāh movements had made my brain convinced that it was normal for me to lust and have sex with even Just Eighteen Just Adult Musalmān girls.
If I didn’t oblige them, they turned out to be my bitterest enemy.
While if I obliged them, they were my everbest friends instead.
“It’s a delicate medical matter to take a cherry of a Just Eighteen Just Adult girl.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan argued, “It’s better the everbest sex therapist must do it, instead of an immensely inexperienced new learner.”
I wasn’t startled to find out that their blind followers and fans immediately grabbed it as the utmost important medical necessity.
Without turning back, Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm walked toward the water.
I watched as Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm walked further into the surf.
The further she walked, the more of her body was hidden as it submerged in the water.
I made my getaway into the house when I watched her dunk herself under the water.
Almost in a daze, I made my way back to Sāliħah Faisal and my room. Sāliħah Faisal was just waking up as I walked in.
She smiled at me as I came through the door.
“Hey stud,” she said suggestively, all the while smiling.
Momentarily undecided, I had to pull my thoughts together.
“Good morning sexy,” I said to Sāliħah Faisal as I crawled on to our bed.
Once I settled myself beside Sāliħah Faisal, Sāliħah Faisal pulled herself up on top of my lap and straddled me.
She ground herself against me and was pleased at the reaction she got. Little did she know, though, my reaction wasn’t necessarily due to her grinding against me.
I hadn’t quite recovered from seeing Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm.
I saw the glint in Sāliħah Faisal’s eyes and I knew what she wanted.
I made the gesture to slide my pajama bottoms down and Sāliħah Faisal raised herself up enough for me to do so.
My eyes closed and my breath inhaled as I felt my friend, Muħammad Naåīm’s wonderful extremely beautiful wife, wrap around me.
Opening my eyes, I looked at Sāliħah Faisal and put my index finger in front of my mouth in a “shhh” motion.
Whispering, Sāliħah Faisal asked, “why?”
“”We don’t need the kids to hear,” I whispered back.
“They’re asleep, they’ll never know,” Sāliħah Faisal whispered back with a bit more volume.
I furrowed my brow at her,
“No, they’re not. Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm is awake.”
Sāliħah Faisal’s eyes widened,
She loved how rigid and hard I was as she slammed herself down harder and harder upon it.
Sāliħah Faisal kept this motion up as if endlessly.
Until my eyes signaled to her that, I was about to cum.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam