The dawn was cold and chilly.
Yet, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus didn’t need any coat around her.
My nonstop back and forth penetrations into her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt were providing her enough heat she needed to face the cold and chill.
The automobile slid to a stop.
“What’s first on the program?” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs asked his extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān wife, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus surveyed the apartment house standing on the silent residential street, as though waiting for the warm morning sunlight to bring it to life.
“Like a sleeping horse standing on three legs with his head down.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus smiled, “Al Nadīm Al Quddūs, you can’t believe the neighborhood is jammed with people.”
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs watched her sarcastically.
“Another hour you’ll see curtains going up, smell the aroma of coffee, see the people dashing down the steps running for the streetcars.”
“I wish I were certain we had an hour.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus said, “Well, there’s only one thing to do. Find out first where Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd’s apartment is and next where her garage is.”
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs looked at Al Safiyah Al Ghaus.
“That garage business may be tricky, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus.” He suggested protesting what she had implied, “some early riser may be looking out of a window and…”
“I know.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus said.
“It’s not a good idea to take chances that way.”
“I see.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus said, “What do you suggest instead?”
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs thought for a second then he admitted reluctantly somewhat.
“I’m darned if I know. But if we contact the police…”
“And if the police asked the proof?”
“We are trying to get proof so that we can provide the same to the police if they asked for it.”
“There is no other option.”
“Why not wait?”
“Water,” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus said dryly, “has the habit of evaporating. I want to take a look at that automobile before the cushions have had a chance to dry out.”
“All right,” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs surrendered ultimately, “If you feel that way about it, let’s go. Every minute makes things that much more dangerous.”
We left the automobile, walked up to the apartment house.
By consulting the directory Al Safiyah Al Ghaus found that Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd had apartment 786.
As we turned back to the car, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus said,
“Now, Al Nadīm Al Quddūs, you take the car, and drive up the driveway. We’ll pretend that we are looking for a stall to put the car in. If there’s any trouble, we can claim that some friend told us we could use her garage for a couple of days because she was going to be away.”
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs said sarcastically,
“Sure. And then if they ask us about the friend and where she lives, it will be just another one of those things.”
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus looked at him scornfully,
“We’ll just have to talk fast and try to talk our way out of it. If you don’t want to cooperate…”
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs went back to the automobile, started it, backed into a half turn, then drove slowly up the driveway.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus and I walked ahead of Al Nadīm Al Quddūs.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus was my nude glorious mare now on her knees and I was fucking her from her gorgeous behind.
The driveway went around to the back of the apartment house, where there was a large cemented yard flanked with garages.
“Begins to look better.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus said, “Look the garage doors even have the numbers of the apartments on them.”
“And padlocks.” I smiled.
“We’ll leave that to Al Nadīm Al Quddūs. What a husband is good for if he can’t pick a lock for his wife, once in a while.”
“Isn’t that breaking and entering?” I asked innocently.
“It is.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus admitted, “I believe it’s a felony. Even I wouldn’t do it for a million dollars if there were any other way.”
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs brought the car to a stop, climbed out, and looked at the padlock.
“I don’t like it, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus.” He said bitterly.*
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus pushed her exquisite gorgeous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān buttocks back into my nude Hindu male lap, swallowed my Uncut Hindu Prick entirely into her tight Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt, contracted her vaginal muscles around the entire length and thickness of my unique legendary Uncut Hindu Cock, and looked at her husband, Al Nadīm Al Quddūs, contemptuously,
“You don’t think I care any more what the hell you like and what you don’t. Do you?”
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs too looked at his wife venomously,
“I am more prudent now than I was when I married you.”
“That’s better.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus said bitterly, “Got those skeleton keys handy?”
“Oh sure,” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs said, “I am not a damnfool that I give you one more chance to destroy me. It’s your funeral now, not mine. I don’t love you any more. Go ahead if you really think you can outwit Durgesh even.”
“Got those skelton keys?” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus asked him coldly.
“Yes, they are in the car.”
“Get them for me.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus ordered him emotionlessly.
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs pointed out smirking.
“The windows of those back apartments look out here in the court and…”
“My damn fool husband,” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus said sneeringly, “the longer you talk, the more chance there is someone will hear the discussion and look out to see what it’s all about. This is no time to get weak kneed. You know now very well you were never my destination when I married you. You were my stepladder only.”
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs wasn’t stunned even for a moment.
He laughed bitterly.
“I wasn’t in love you myself, bitch. I wanted to fuck you only. And I have done it now to my heart’s content. I damn care now if you fuck Durgesh or a black thief even.”
“That’s all right. It was a bargain then. You were after my body and I was after your money. We both got what we wanted to have. Now, why the hell are you trying to protect me still now as if you are still my husband? You are not. You were never my husband, moreover. You were only my stepladder and I’ve reached my destination now. Durgesh is my destination, you stupid. Why the hell don’t you understand?”
“I don’t understand?” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs laughed sarcastically, “I don’t understand? I suspected you bitch, right from the beginning that you were after my money, not after me.”
“I don’t have all the time in the world now.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus said contemptuously, “You love a female animal body only as any male animal does. Durgesh doesn’t. Durgesh loves Beauties with brains. That’s why Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan successfully defeated her Ammī Nafīsah Salmān in Durgesh’s sex life. I have to show Durgesh that I too have brains, not beauty only, if I want to gain some respect from him in our sex life. I have to go ahead as though I own the joint and we are just putting the car in for the night. Get me those keys.”*
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs walked back to the glove compartment of his automobile, reluctantly took out the bunch of skeleton keys handed them to Al Safiyah Al Ghaus, said,
“These are the padlock keys.”
Then he walked over to the door, stood so that his body shielded the large bunch of keys from any casual observer who might be looking out of any window whatsoever.
In fact, there was a great temptation for him to turn back to the automobile, and disassociate himself from what was going on.
But he could not do it.
Despite what he said, he still loved the treacherous Musalmān Beauty.
Yes, he suspected Al Safiyah Al Ghaus was using him as a stepladder.
But even then he could have her amazingly exquisite Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān body until she needed him as a stepladder at least.
After all, what was there to lose?
It took five keys before Al Safiyah Al Ghaus found one that would open the padlock.
The lock clicked back.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus calmly opened the door.
We moved inside of the garage.
After a moment, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus called Al Nadīm Al Quddūs sneeringly.
Her voice was exaggeratedly sweetest.
In fact, she cooed actually.
“My dear utmost wise husband, would you kindly oblige me to come here?”
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs hesitated a few moments, then reluctantly entered the garage.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus had opened the sedan doors.
Now, she was feeling the seat cushions and the carpet on the floor.
“Look at this rear cushion, wise guy.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus said sarcastically, “doesn’t that feel damp to you?”
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs put a reluctant hand on the cushion.
“The left side.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus said.
“It feels sort of damp.” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs admitted.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus frowned thoughtfully.
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs smiled ironically.
“That’s right. You frown thoughtfully because you have yourself too realized now that it would have been soaking wet if your theory was right.”
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus immediately searched through the automobile.
Disappointment appeared on her face.
“Clean as a hound’s tooth, ma’am.” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs announced triumphantly.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus said thoughtfully.
“I guess I’m off on a wrong trail. The only thing to do now, is to get out of here fast. Hang it, Allah, I can’t get over that damp place in the seat of cushion. What the hell could have caused it?”
“I damn care.” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs said triumphantly, “Nevertheless, if it had been what you thought, it would have been wetter than that.”
“I’ll be damned.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus said thoughtfully, “Let’s take a look at the motor temperature.”
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus clicked on the switch and looked at the electric gauge.
“Cold as a cucumber.” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs laughed.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus flicked off the switch.
“Okay, I guess I’m licked. Durgesh has played some still deeper game, deeper for me at least.”
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs chuckled.
I kept smiling only.
I didn’t comment.
“I guess, Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd could have used another car.”
“Well, there isn’t any evidence here to back up your theory.”
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus watched him scornfully.
“The tragedy is that if it isn’t here I don’t know where I have to go to look for it.”
“All right,” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs said bitterly, “let’s get out and do our talking afterward. I never liked this idea in the first place.”
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs started for the door.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus made a quick final survey of the garage.
Suddenly she said,
“Hell! Look here.”
Her voice was suddenly filled with triumphant excitement.*
I was riding Al Samīnah Al Qāsim once more.
We had fucked since in countless sex positions.
No doubt she couldn’t make with Imām Muħammad Ħasan.
He was a righteous man who believed sex was not actually a virtue for men.
The men, if they were really righteous, must control sex.
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim needed enormous sex instead.
“Abbū and I both think it’s just a joke someone played. You know Ammī now even more than Abbū and me, I think. She swears that it was my picture in the frame when she was doing the packing, but Ammī gets excited when we travel. You see, Zāherah Ħusayn and I look alike, even if Zāherah Ħusayn wouldn’t admit it. Ever since I started traveling, people in restaurants and night clubs have been staring at me, nudging each other and whispering.”
“You might capitalize on it. A stand in or something.”
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim didn’t know then what her Abbū, Al Muħammad Al Qāsim, had planned actually.
We were half through breakfast when Al Samīnah Al Qāsim’s Ammī, Al Nāsirah Al Karīm, approached us.
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim deliberately left us and went to her stateroom as soon as she saw her Ammī.
She wanted to give privacy to her Ammī, Al Nāsirah Al Karīm, with me.
It might be Al Nāsirah Al Karīm wouldn’t talk freely in Al Samīnah Al Qāsim’s presence.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan tried to stop Al Samīnah Al Qāsim.
“Nonsense. Your Ammī, Al Nāsirah Al Karīm, is an ultramodern Musalmān lady. She wouldn’t have been a Trillionaire if she were so backward.”
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim squeezed Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s hand.
“I know my Ammī more than you do, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan. She isn’t a Trillionaire when she deals with her children. She is an Ammī then.”
“Al Nāsirah Al Karīm,” I looked at her, “I have some information for you.”
Al Nāsirah Al Karīm kissed Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan on her cheeks.
Yet she grabbed my Uncut Hindu Penis too and squeezed it appreciating it.
I smiled, squeezed her still gorgeous rich Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān buttocks.
Al Nāsirah Al Karīm kissed me on my lips.
I hugged her.
“Can you tell me now?” Al Nāsirah Al Karīm glanced dubiously at Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan.
“You have to decide it.” I smiled, “It’s your family secret, not mine.”
“It’s all right.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled, “I can understand. Excuse me, please.”
Al Nāsirah Al Karīm held her wrist.
“It’s all right, Al Sadar Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat. I may need you too. Please, stay with us if you don’t have another work more important to do.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled, squeezed her arm and assured Al Nāsirah Al Karīm that she was staying.*
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs asked resignedly.
“Now what the hell is it?”
“Over here.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus ordered him curtly, “Quick.”
The tone of her voice brought Al Nadīm Al Quddūs to her side immediately.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus was bent down over a dark corner that was under a workbench.
“What the hell is it?” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs asked impatiently now.
He had lost now all his patience.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus straightened.
She was holding an army blanket in her hand.
“Feel this.” She ordered Al Nadīm Al Quddūs scornfully.
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs felt of it, then whistled.
“Soaking wet.” He exclaimed.
“And look under here too, wise guy.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus bent over and picked up a pair of men’s shoes.
“These,” she said curtly, “were directly under the blanket.”
The shoes themselves were soaking wet.
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs was stunned.
“You win,” he said involuntarily incredulously, “Allah, by gosh. I’ll hand it to you.”
“Himmat-e-mardān madad-e-Kħudā.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus smiled triumphantly.
“Correct it appropriately.” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs laughed, “Himmat-e-åuratān madad-e-Kħudā.”
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus laughed too.
“Well, what do we do?” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs asked, “Take the evidence?”
“No.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus smiled, “We put everything back the way it was, get out of here, and let the police make the discovery.”
“Do you think they will?”
“They will after we get done with them.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus smiled cheerfully.
“Just put them back the way you found them?”
“Yes, but first look on the inside of those shoes.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus instructed her husband elatedly, “See if there’s a manufacturer’s name. See if you can get his size.”
“Do you want to read me the letters that are on the inside here? I’ll write them down.”
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus cheerfully picked up the shoes, held them so the light shone down on the figures that were stamped on the lining.
She read off the numbers and the name of the manufacturer.
“Nothing to show the retail store that sold them?” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs asked.
“Nothing.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus said, “Just the shoe. Eight and a half B as I interpret the meaning of these numbers. However, we’d better check up with a shoe man on that.”
“And get out of here,” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs said.
“Okay,” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus said, “put the shoes back.”
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs put the shoes back, put the wet blanket over the shoes.
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs was the first out of the garage.
I was the last.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus locked the door of the garage.
Once more Al Nadīm Al Quddūs shielded with his body what Al Safiyah Al Ghaus was doing so that no one in the apartment house could see Al Safiyah Al Ghaus wiping fingerprints off the padlock with a handkerchief.
I helped Al Safiyah Al Ghaus into the car, then climbed myself pulling her on my lap, sitting on the seat.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus straddled on my Uncut Hindu Penis facing me.
“You really think the police will find it?” suddenly Al Nadīm Al Quddūs asked Al Safiyah Al Ghaus.
“Oh sure.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus smiled, “It’s not Durgesh that forgot to remove them from the garage. He isn’t that careless. It’s either Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd or Al Muħammad Al Qāsim himself.”
“Can’t it be a bait?” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs suggested.
“Bait? For me?” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus laughed.
“They can’t harm me now any more as I can’t harm them.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus said gravely, “Moreover, they know it very well as I do myself.”
“Then why are you trying to harm them?” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs smiled ironically.
“Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd wants to revenge me. I have to see she never succeeds. It’s my legal right. Isn’t it?”
“Well, how can you blame Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd? You’ve broken her home. Hadn’t you?”
“Well, that’s the point.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus smiled, “She blames me for it. She justifies herself. She isn’t cured even now. Until and unless Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd doesn’t stop justifying herself and blaming others for her failures she is open to be harmed either by me or by someone else.”
“Okay. What about my younger brother Al Muħammad Al Qāsim?” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs asked her bitterly.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Sun sparkled from the crested tops of restless waves.
I paced the deck, enjoying fresh air and the mild sunlight through clouds.
My hands were thrust deep in the pockets of a double breasted coat.
My rubber soled shoes trod lightly along the teakwood deck.
The cold breeze tried to ruffle my ever black hair unsuccessfully.
The heavy door from the forward social hall was pushed open one inch or two.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan shouldered it open.
She stood there with wind whipped skirts.
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim stepped across the high threshold.
Both of them released the door.
The wind pushed it against the automatic door check.
I walked behind both of them.
“Ship Ahoy!” I called.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and Al Samīnah Al Qāsim, both turned to me.
“The other side is less windy.” I smiled at both of them.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan nodded.
The cold wind was blowing the tendrils of hair across her extremely beautiful Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān face.
“Al Samīnah Al Qāsim,” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan introduced us, “this is Durgesh, my husband, and the Hindu husband of us entire extremely striking Musalmān Beauties, if you don’t mind my bluntness.”
“Naåīmah,” I admonished Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan somewhat curtly, “behave yourself, you stupid.”
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim smiled at me.
“It’s alright. I never mind. Most of us extremely attractive Musalmān Beauties, rather, never mind your titles related to us, actually. We think they are in fact compliments to us Musalmān Beauties instead.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan winked at me.
“Now, come on. You Hindu scoundrel, the ever best ever greatest fucker of us extremely lovely Musalmān Beauties, we both are starving to death.”
“Let’s go, my extremely stunning Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān wives.”
With an extremely attractive Musalmān Beauty on each of my Hindu male arm, I started forward along the deck.
They were playing with my Uncut Hindu Penis impishly.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan had unzipped me and had brought it out.
With every female treatment of both the extremely lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Beauties my Uncut Hindu Penis was extending and growing in their fists violently.
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim was playing with it rather shyly somewhat, but Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was not ashamed of it even a bit.
Rounding the bow, the wind pushed us down the sloping incline, into the lee of the deck.
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim put her hair back into place, laughed, and said,
“That’s what’s known as wind blown job. I’ve been hearing a lot about you, Durgesh.”
“Most of my extremely beautiful Musalmān women friends are already enjoying your Hindu sex kicks.”
“They say you’re unique in love and lovemaking both.”
“Tell them my numerous thanks.”
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim faced me with laughing, dark eyes, full red lips, parted to reveal teeth that glinted as whitecaps in the sun.
The silk blouse, open at the neck, disclosed the sweep of her tremendously lovely Musalmān throat, the rounded curve of her firm breasts.
“Durgesh darling, I saw you and my Ammī fucking and talking last night. I bet Ammī told you all about the family mystery.”*
I looked at Al Samīnah Al Qāsim.
“Sure. Don’t try to act innocent.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan flashed me a quick glance,
“What’s the family mystery, Al Samīnah Al Qāsim?”
“The disappearance of my portrait. Ammī packed my autographed picture in Abbū’s bag. She locked the bag carefully. When they unpacked, my picture was gone from the frame. Someone had inserted one of Zāherah Ħusayn instead, the Pakistani Musalmān heroine that worked in Indian movies too. I resemble her to the extent as if we both are twin sisters. Now, what do you know about that?”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan glanced reproachfully at me.
“I know nothing about it. What does your Ammī think about it? If she has talked with Durgesh about it, we can…”
“That’s the point. Ammī is making it darkly mysterious. Well, don’t deprive her of her thrill. If Ammī tells you about it, act as if you didn’t know anything before Ammī told you it.”
“You are sure Durgesh and your Ammī were fucking when they were talking?”
“I watched them myself.” Al Samīnah Al Qāsim said curtly, “My Ammī was on her knees and our Durgesh darling was fucking her from her glorious behind. You say Durgesh is thirty four, why the hell then he is interested in my Ammī more than me?”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan watched me furiously.
“He loves big heavy female Musalmān buttocks filling his nude Hindu male lap when he fucks us, damn it.”
“She does not take it seriously.” I smiled.
“Me?” Al Samīnah Al Qāsim squeezed my Uncut Hindu Penis more, to make me suffer from pain somewhat.
She raised her chin and laughed into my face.
“My parents think I never take anything seriously—life, liberty, or the pursuit of love. I’m the flippant younger generation. Hell, they never suspect it’s my act only. I’m immensely serious about everything.”
“And how about your Abbū, Al Muħammad Al Qāsim? How does he take it?”*
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim laughed.
She squeezed my Uncut Hindu Penis significantly.
Despite her tremendous efforts to act as if my Uncut Hindu Penis was not the first she was playing with, her inherent shyness and enormously hidden nervousness were constantly telling me I was the ever first man in her life she was enjoying even the foreplay with.
I looked at Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan disapprovingly.
Why the hell Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan doesn’t understand?
Her Seven Movements had upset the normal life of almost everyone, almost entire humankind.
“Oh, Abbū takes it right in his stride.” Al Samīnah Al Qāsim said, “He is a Thinker, carries the Multiverse on his shoulders. Despite the fact that you are the ever best ever greatest fucker of us extremely lovely Musalmān Beauties, Abbū thinks you are Imām Ħazrat Mahdi ålayhissalām .”
“Well,” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan said innocently, “I think…”
“You don’t think, you never think.” I said coldly, “You just fix a target and conspire to achieve it.”
“My dear ever best ever greatest fucker of us extremely lovely Musalmān Beauties,” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled cunningly, “it takes a deep thinking even to conspire.”
“Shame on you.”
“Let it be. I damn care.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan winked at me, entirely unashamed of herself, “You mankind think every shame is for us womankind only. I refuse to obey your ever selfish decisions. Why the hell should we womankind obey you mankind? After all we womankind are infinitely more in numbers than you mankind are. In Democracy…”
“Oh shut up,” I said, “I’m fed up of your communal philosophies. You think every Musalmān male is a terrorist or a potential terrorist at least. But the Musalmān Beauties are neither. Every Hindu male is a born democrat, and…”
“Prove me wrong.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan challenged me.*
I smiled curtly.
“As if I haven’t already every now and then.”
“Never.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan said shamelessly, “You have only argued every time.”
I squeezed her buttocks.
“Sālī, ‘Ūnŧh ré ūnŧh, térī kaun sī kal sīdhī’?”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan pushed my Uncut Hindu Prick into Al Samīnah Al Qāsim’s heretofore virgin mouth.
I felt embarrassed.
But to my surprise, Al Samīnah Al Qāsim kissed it lovingly, licked it and then started to suck it ravenously.
“I’ll be damned.” I murmured to myself.
“Enjoying it?” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan asked Al Samīnah Al Qāsim impishly.
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim nodded, brought my Uncut Hindu Prick out of her mouth and said.
“My Ammī was not the first I saw Durgesh fucking.”
“Allah Allah! I never thought you were so veteran a voyeur.”
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim laughed.
“A virgin is a voyeur mostly.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan watched her step Ammī cunningly.
“Ammījān, I think you are right. I was also a veteran voyeur until I seduced Durgesh.”
Both of them laughed.
“You were telling me about your Abbū.” I reminded Al Samīnah Al Qāsim.*
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim smiled.
“Only occasionally can I get Abbū to set it down long enough to play with me.”
I squeezed her breasts.
“Sālī, that doesn’t answer my question.”
“You can’t call me Sālī, your sister in law. I’m your Ammī in law, your mother in law instead. Don’t forget Imām Muħammad Ħasan is still my husband.”
“Ex-husband.” I reminded Al Samīnah Al Qāsim.
I watched her dubiously.
Was she still married to Imām Muħammad Ħasan?
And Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is guiding and patronizing her?
But how the hell could it be?
Imām Muħammad Ħasan still has four duly legal Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān wives.
Yes, he doesn’t touch them anymore.
I fuck all of them instead.
But they are still his wives legally.
Is Al Samīnah Al Qāsim playing some deep game with Imām Muħammad Ħasan?
If Al Samīnah Al Qāsim hasn’t divorced Imām Muħammad Ħasan, Al Samīnah Al Qāsim is his fifth legal duly married wife.
Does Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan know it?
Has she planned deliberately to exile Imām Muħammad Ħasan from Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat to protect him from Al Samīnah Al Qāsim?
I was more vigilant now of Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and Al Samīnah Al Qāsim both.*
Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr smiled patronizingly.
“Colonel Åbdul Raħmān was a commando. Wasn’t he?”
“What the hell do you mean?” Muħammad bin Qāsim grimaced, “Commandos can’t be murdered?”
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand, Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim, and even Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled sophisticatedly, yet patronizingly at Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr.
“I suppose,” Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr said, “all this is just a conversational background, a barrage, a bombardment, of words. They are trying to get us to commit ourselves. Umm-al-Åālmīn, I’m quite certain either Umm-al-Åālmīn Al Samīnah Al Qāsim is playing some deeper game, or Al Sadar Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat, Umm-al-Åālmīn, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan herself has planned it. Colonel Åbdul Raħmān was her commando. It wasn’t easy to murder him.”
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand, Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim, and even Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled again.
“I’m not Allah Rabbil Åālmīn, Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled.
“Yet you are Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allahu tålā ånahā herself reincarnated. Aren’t you?”
“Sure,” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled, “nevertheless, not Allah Rabbil Åālmīn.”
Muħammad bin Qāsim laughed.
“Her worst critics claim Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan Bājī is following her Hindu Live in relationship partner’s every step. What Durgesh Jījū has done Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan Bājī would also do action by action. You can’t win her, Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr.”*
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim was now on her knees.
My Uncut Hindu Penis was visiting her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt now.
“Once a barrister always a barrister. Are you cross examining me now, my Hindu Love?”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was smiling watching my still growing Uncut Hindu Cock penetrating the glorious glamorous Musalmān Cunt of Al Samīnah Al Qāsim.
Despite my constant efforts to avoid them, Jet Musalmān Beauties were still constantly succeeding in winning my Uncut Hindu Penis for their ever aggressive ever feminist Musalmān Cunts.
It was necessary.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was vowed to establish Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah.
It was the only solution to stop the kidnapping, smuggling and selling of Musalmān Beauties.
Only Hindu husbands/Live in relationship Partners could be trusted.
Saiyadah Fātimah PhD and Kħadījah Muħammad both wanted to establish Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah.
Yet, none of them could have the courage enough to say it openly.
Not only Musalmīn, even Durgesh was against it.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan used it to win Saiyadah Fātimah PhD and Kħadījah Muħammad both despite my opposition.
She made it a movement.
“Al Samīnah Al Qāsim,” I pulled my Uncut Hindu Penis out of her glorious Musalmān Cunt until only its head remained inside, “what does your father, Al Muħammad Al Qāsim, say about it? What are your own theories incidentally?”
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim shook her head.
She waited a few minutes for me to push my Uncut Hindu Cock back into her ravenous Musalmān Cunt, but when she saw I was concentrating somewhere else instead of on fucking her optimum, she felt her extraordinary Musalmān beauty insulted.
“Hey, where the hell are you concentrating? Give me that back.”
“Your legendary Uncut Hindu Lund. Push it back into me. Will you?”
“You must be. I would never forgive you if you ever do it again. Once out, I want it into me back, immediately. Do you understand?”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan laughed.
“Does he do it with you too?” Al Samīnah Al Qāsim asked Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and answered my question as well, “I don’t have theories. I’m too young. Moreover, I’m a practical woman rather. I never dream of anything. I march ahead instead, and get it practically, as I’m going to do now.”
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim pushed her own gorgeous glorious Saåūdī Årab Panjvaqtah Namāzī Wahābī Musalmān buttocks back into my nude Hindu male lap and swallowed my entire Uncut Hindu Prick into her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Cunt deepest, “I love it deepest, my dear.”
“Abbū Imām liked your aggressive sex?” I smiled fucking her somewhat more vigorously now.
“Never. He is too a damn fool Musalmān.”
“Al Samīnah Al Qāsim Ammī.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan protested disapprovingly.
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim laughed.
“Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, my dear immensely successful daughter. I’m with you, because you are running your Seven Movements, you have vowed taking Al Qur’an Al Karim in your pious hand to establish Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah. That’s what these damn fool Musalmīn need. Replace them with Hindus for ever and forget the bastards.”
“You ever communal bitches,” I said curtly, “always thinking with your ever ravenous Musalmān Cunts instead of with your brains.”
“No Musalmān bastard is here to appreciate you.” Al Samīnah Al Qāsim too smiled curtly, “I know you adopt this attitude to please your Musalmān fathers in law and your Musalmān brothers in law. They don’t have any power now. They are cuckolded to you and us, their Musalmān houseladies.”
“You are helping their enemies. Have you ever thought of it?”
“Qāzī jī dublé kyon? Shahar kā andéshah. Why the hell you always think of others, instead of yourself and us? Enjoy our extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān bodies, you stupid.”*
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand looked at Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr.
“You have a telephone over there in the corner. Just ring the Ved Nagar police and ask them if a Colonel Åbdul Raħmān was murdered at an early hour this morning.”
Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr promptly crossed over to the telephone, smiled sharply and said,
“That’s a very nice bluff you’re running. We won’t let it work however. I’m going to call you cold right now. Whenever someone makes a pass at me I call him/her then and there ineludibly.”
Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr picked up the receiver.
“I want the police station, please,”
Then, after a moment, he said,
“Can you kindly tell me whether a Colonel Åbdul Raħmān was murdered this morning somewhere near Oceanside, Ved Nagar?… Never mind who this is. I’m simply asking a question…Well, let’s put it this way. I might be a witness in case there’s anything to it…”
Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr held the receiver in silence for several seconds.
Amīnah Zahīr was enjoying my Uncut Hindu Prick into her teen Musalmān Cunt in the meantime, smiling smartly.
She was herself fucking me now.
I stood still there on my knees behind Amīnah Zahīr.
Entirely nude Amīnah Zahīr was herself making the back forth and again back movements ruthlessly.
When it came out to sex, Amīnah Zahīr was almost an female animal with me.
It was rare I fucked her.
Mostly Amīnah Zahīr fucked me herself.
And that even almost most savagely usually.
Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr suddenly said in the mouthpiece,
Then he slammed the receiver back into place.
He turned and faced his audience.
Then he started pacing the floor.
His eyes were half slit in thoughts.
He pushed his hands down deep in the side pockets of his double breasted coat.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim, Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand and Muħammad bin Qāsim were watching him patiently, yet with a smirk.
Abruptly, Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr turned, standing with his back to the wall.
“All right,” he said, “I’m security in charge here. Ms. Amīnah Zahīr is not a nobody. She virtually owns our Kħilāfat Movement. She is one of the most important sponsors to our cause.”
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand smiled contemptuously.
“Oh sure, I happen to know all of your bloody movement. What’s it? You are fighting for establishing a Triple Society, a Threesome Society actually. Musalmān wife, Hindu lover and thoroughly Cuckold Musalmān husband. Shame on you. You call it a Kħilāfat Movement? I’m surprised. Ms. Amīnah Zahīr is one of your most important sponsors, not because she and the other similar sponsors are sympathetic to you. They want you cuckolded. Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan Bājī is running Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah Movement. Your Triple Society is helping her cause. Jījū is against it because Jījū is against the humiliation of any human being whosoever the hell s/he is. Why the hell don’t you understand? Bājī Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is revenging what you Pseudo Musalmīn have done with Musalmān womankind. That’s why her own Abbū, Imām Muħammad Ħasan, is against her Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah despite his exile from Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat.”
Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr raised his right hand.
“I know you want to argue against our Kħilāfat Movement and even Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah as well. Imām Muħammad Ħasan has invited us to a Grand Meeting on the ‘Yacht’ of your Jījū. We have accepted the invitation. It’s not the proper place to discuss these utmost important political crises.”
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand looked at me helplessly.
“Your Bājī Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is destroying the Musalmīn completely, either under this disguise or that. She is taking advantage of each and every superstition of Pseudo Musalmīn. I’d told you, Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand, already.”*
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Amīnah Zahīr watched Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand gravely.
“I appreciate your manly vigor, Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand.”
“Thank you, Umm Al Åālmīn.”
“You are watching my live in relationship with Durgesh yourself personally, yet you are accusing me so bravely.”
“Durgesh never approved of the Cuckold Your Musalmān husband movement of Bājī Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan herself. ” Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand smiled sophisticatedly, “Did he?”
“What do you mean?”
“Durgesh never approved of the ‘Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club’ movement of Bājī Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan too. ” Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand smiled sophisticatedly again, “Did he?”
Amīnah Zahīr laughed.
“Naåīmah Bājī, he thinks Durgesh is right and you are wrong.”
“That’s right,” Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand smiled triumphantly, “Durgesh Jījū and Naåīmah Bājī love each other and they are husband and wife now, despite their thirty two years age difference. Naåīmah Bājī is furious to Musalmān terrorists, criminal/criminal minded Musalmīn. She wants them Cuckolds and humiliated immensely until they aren’t True Musalmīn. Durgesh Jījū hates such an attitude even to the Musalmān terrorists, criminal/criminal minded Musalmīn.”
“And you think Durgesh is right and Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan Bājī is wrong?” Amīnah Zahīr watched Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand scornfully.
“Is there anything wrong in it?” Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand smiled patronizingly.
Amīnah Zahīr blurted.
“You are right, Naåīmah Bājī. You are always right. Even Hindus are not with us.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled serenely.
“Control yourself, Amīnah Zahīr. Despite it, we are using Hindus successfully to establish our Dream Ummat, Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah. Aren’t we?”*
In previous years the exceptionally attractive ardent Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān wives had tanned topless, however this year, Rukħsānah Aslam felt odd, being the only wife there, so she left the top on.
Imrān Waħīd and I were talking.
Imrān Waħīd was drinking beer in the boat’s cockpit, while I was giving him company with drinking juice.
We had been friends for over fifteen years.
Our wives had been college roommates and were also close friends.
I was especially watchful as my friend’s extremely beautiful ardent Musalmān wife undid her top to keep from getting tan lines on her back.
Since Rukħsānah Aslam was lying with her head toward the cockpit, I enjoyed talking to her because she had to raise her head slightly to answer and usually showed some cleavage.
On one occasion, when she raised up a little higher than necessary, I thought I saw a nipple.
I was already enjoying the trip.
It was early September.
We were making our annual sail from North Carolina to the Bahamas, where we would leave the boat for the winter.
Usually there were four of us, but this year, due to a work related issue, my ‘wife’, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, was not able to come with us.
Rukħsānah Aslam felt a relief when she heard Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan wasn’t accompanying us this time.
Despite the fact that Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was her childhood friend, Rukħsānah Aslam always hated Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s ever-dominant nature.
Wasn’t it a fact that Rukħsānah Aslam was actually jealous of her miraculously utmost successful childhood friend, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan?*
Rukħsānah Aslam must be at least sincere to herself.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan never hid the fact from anyone that she loved Durgesh madly despite I was thirty-two years older than Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan.
Rukħsānah Aslam never wanted to be one of my women despite my immense success in almost every field.
Rukħsānah Aslam hated Hindus.
“If you keep on your friendship with that immensely dirty sex maniac Hindu multi zillionaire, Durgesh, Imrān Waħīd, you would soon find your every beautiful Musalmān houselady is being fucked by him, including me too.”
“Nonsense, Rukħsānah Aslam. Durgesh is the ever best friend we Musalmīn do have.” Imrān Waħīd was immensely angry with his wife, “Stop being jealous to your childhood friend Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan. She offered Durgesh to you too, but it was you…”
“I hate that Hindu sex maniac.” Rukħsānah Aslam flared at her extremely damn fool Musalmān husband.
Imrān Waħīd smiled.
“Well, your sisters, your cousins, your Bhābhījāns and even your friends love my immensely successful Hindu friend, Durgesh. Don’t they?”
“They are crazy for his money.” Rukħsānah Aslam said scornfully.
“And why the hell shouldn’t they be?” Imrān Waħīd smiled teasing Rukħsānah Aslam.
“Sex should never be for money. It’s prostitution.”
“So you think all your sisters, your cousins, your Bhābhījāns and even your friends are prostitutes because they have sex with my friend, Durgesh, for his money?”
“Well, aren’t they, at least somewhat?”
“Imrān Waħīd, I am surprised.”
“Your sisters, your cousins, your Bhābhījāns and even your friends are not alone who enjoy sex with Durgesh. Most of the Musalmān Beauties I know enjoy sex with Durgesh.”
“And you are proud of it?”
“Come out of your ever harmful communalism, Rukħsānah Aslam.” Imrān Waħīd said scornfully, “It has always harmed us Musalmīn too much.”*
Amīnah Zahīr smiled at Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan.
She was now on her knees.
I was fucking Amīnah Zahīr now from her glorious teen behind.
“I’m doubtful, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, whether we actually establish our Dream Ummat, Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah.”
“Nonsense, Durgesh has to be with us. The entire Vedic Monotheist Hindus are with us. Even the traditional Hindus are with us.”
“But the Brāhmañ Beauties are opposing us, the Savarñ Beauties are opposing us.” Amīnah Zahīr looked at Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan gravely.
“The Brāhmañ Beauties want Bachhalyās and the Savarñ Beauties want Vedic Monotheist Hindus who were born Dalits, the downtroddens. That’s what Kr’ñvanto Vishvamāryam, Dharm Santānam, Dharm Sansthñpan for them.”
“What do you mean?”
“Only the Brāhmañ Beauties and Savarñ Beauties could be managed. A large number of them is already with us. They haven’t any problem with our Dream Ummat, Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah.”
Amīnah Zahīr looked at Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan incredulously.
She changed the subject abruptly.
Looked at Pranav Yogendr Divyanand,
“So you say I knew Al Samīnah Al Qāsim?”
“Sure. Haven’t you?”
“That’s what I said.”
“I was quite friendly with Al Samīnah Al Qāsim? I talked her out of getting a divorce from her husband. Told her that if she’d sit tight and let her husband think she’d secured a divorce, then when Imām Muħammad Ħasan had found some other interest he could be made to pay a lot of money for a settlement?”
“That’s what I say.”
“Have you heard of something called defamation of character?”
“If you can’t prove what you are claiming that’s what you have to face.”
“I can prove it.” Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand smiled disarmingly.
There was a silence for several seconds.
Amīnah Zahīr kept her teenager big yet heavy Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān buttocks thrusting into my nude Hindu lap.
My legendary Uncut Hindu Cock kept vanishing into Amīnah Zahīr’s teen tiny Musalmān Cunt to my balls, coming out until only its head remained inside and then again buried deepest unto my balls.
Amīnah Zahīr was enjoying our lovemaking enormously.
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand continued to say,
“Al Samīnah Al Qāsim came down to Ved Nagar on the pretext that her husband, Imām Muħammad Ħasan, was here. It was an early hour this morning. She stopped in here and had her gasoline tank filled. In the meantime when her gasoline tank was being filled, Al Samīnah Al Qāsim enjoyed sex with Jījū.”
“Why?” Amīnah Zahīr asked sarcastically, “Her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Cunt was tighter than even my teenager Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt? Or, you think Durgesh is fed up of me at my so early teen age?”
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand looked at Amīnah Zahīr patiently.
“Jījū never enjoyed you Just Eighteen Just Adult Musalmān Beauties. He enjoys the Musalmān Beauties of his own age more.”
“Nonsense, you mean Durgesh is not enjoying lovemaking with me? Only I am enjoying his Uncut Hindu Cock in my teenager Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt?”
“If not, why the Al Jihād fil Durgesh fī sabīlillāh movement is there?” Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand smiled sharply, “Al Samīnah Al Qāsim stopped in here and had her gasoline tank filled. Jījū filled her own Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān tank too with his Hindu Vīrý. I don’t know what Al Samīnah Al Qāsim told you, or what you told her. Nevertheless I do know when Al Samīnah Al Qāsim started from here she was immensely satisfied sexually, physically and emotionally. Her bodyguard was with her. Ǻbdul Raħmān was not an ordinary bodyguard. He was a colonel in Her Excellency Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s personal secret service. Colonel Ǻbdul Raħmān was a Commando. He drove down the road about two miles, stopped her limousine in a parking place off by the side of the road and was murdered.”*
I had been with Pārvatī Pāŧhak and Shiv Shankar Sharmā for two days now.
Pārvatī Pāŧhak and Shiv Shankar Sharmā prepared for bed.
They compared notes, and agreed I needed their help..
“That little fucking Musalmān bitches,” Pārvatī Pāŧhak finally stammered, using a rare invective referring to my Musalmān live in relationship partners, beloveds and women friends. “They totally screw with his mind.”
“Well, it isn’t just his Musalmān live in relationship partners, beloveds and women friends. I mean, they are just being their usual self. Most guys would have been able to shrug it off after a while. But his Musalmān live in relationship partners, beloveds and women friends are his first and almost only love, so they have a disproportionate impact on Durgesh.”
“What do you mean only love? I mean, sure, they make love with Durgesh, but Durgesh is, what, 34, he must have had some other significant relationships.”
“I don’t think so. I mean, he and I have been friends for a long Time, and I don’t remember him really dating anyone else mostly other than needy Musalmān Beauties. For all I know, the Musalmān Beauties might literally be only women he ever slept with happily.”
“Hey Bhagvān, what an impression he must have of other women.”
“Well, it’s not as if he doesn’t know any better. I know he thinks the world of you. Moreover, he’s a smart guy. Nevertheless, yeah, emotionally, Durgesh is almost a cripple except with ever ravenous Musalmān Beauties because he almost never dated other women much. In addition, he built up this notion in his mind about how great it would be when he was with other women. I mean, I hate to psychoanalyze a friend, but there it is. Durgesh needs to be with some non Muslim women if he’s ever going to put Musalmān Beauties behind him and get on with his life, as he should. His Musalmān live in relationship partners, beloveds and women friends are blinding him constantly against other communities. It’s not good for a Mayor to be so partial to any particular society. Imām Muħammad Ħasan and Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan both are using Durgesh for the benefits of their own community.”
Pārvatī Pāŧhak looked at Shiv Shankar Sharmā thoughtfully. “I like Durgesh a lot, and he’s both sweet and handsome, but I can’t see him ever finding a good relationship. It’s a catch-22. Until he comes out of his shell, other women will stay clear, and the ones who don’t probably have enough of their own problems to make things worse.”
“I wish we could do something,” Shiv Shankar Sharmā replied sadly, “I wish we could get someone to seduce him or something, but I just don’t know anyone who’d be willing to do that. It’s a lot to ask a friend.”
Shiv Shankar Sharmā’s words trailed off as Shiv Shankar Sharmā’s mind wrapped around an idea.
Pārvatī Pāŧhak seemed to look right through Shiv Shankar Sharmā.
“You want me to seduce him.” She said it ambiguously, part observation, part rebuke, part question, and part offer.
Shiv Shankar Sharmā paused. Just for a second, but it was long enough to confirm it.
“N-no,” Shiv Shankar Sharmā said unsteadily. “I don’t, not really…” But he didn’t know what to say next.
Shiv Shankar Sharmā just stared at his extremely beautiful brilliant smart Brāhmañ wife.
She struck Shiv Shankar Sharmā as incredibly beautiful at that moment.
She was relatively tall for a woman at 5’7″, and her body was both athletic and voluptuous.
She has long, lean legs, and a hard, flat stomach, but at the same Time, she has large, high breasts, and a rounded Pāŧhak Brāhmañ ass and full hips.
She was wearing a diaphanous nightgown, which seemed to call particular attention to her peaks and valleys.
As part of the pre-bed routine, she had brushed out her long, full, brown hair, and it flowed over her shoulder in shiny waves.
Her face is conventionally beautiful, not exotic, but rather the corn-fed, midwestern, beauty that you associate with the queen at the prom.
She was frowning at Shiv Shankar Sharmā, her beautiful green eyes sad and questioning.
Shiv Shankar Sharmā desperately wished he could go back in Time, and head off the conversation.
The thought of Shiv Shankar Sharmā’s wife with another man, even Shiv Shankar Sharmā’s best friend in need, gave him a feeling like a lead weight in the pit of Shiv Shankar Sharmā’s stomach.
And yet at the same Time, a part of him was saying that it was the right thing to do, that it was a sacrifice worth making.
After all they also had a duty toward their immensely neglected Brāhmañ community.
What Param Brahmarshi Bhagvān Bhr’gu did when he observed the extremely beautiful infinite Musalmān Beauties were representing even the entire denominations in Islam on Durgesh’s nude Hindu male lap constantly?
Isn’t Imām Muħammad Ħasan doing the same thing?
Hasn’t he used his entire extremely beautiful Musalmān Houseladies even for it and still using?
The Musalmīn are successful because they are aware of what they should do and when.
The Brāhmañs are again losing to Musalmīn.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan is not a Brāhmañ, yet he has learned from Param Brahmarshi Bhagvān Bhr’gu.
Can’t he, Shiv Shankar Sharmā, himself too?
If Imām Muħammad Ħasan had Nafīsah Salmān, Shiv Shankar Sharmā too has Pārvatī Pāŧhak.
Can Shiv Shankar Sharmā too sacrifice Pārvatī Pāŧhak as Imām Muħammad Ħasan sacrificed Nafīsah Salmān?
Can Shiv Shankar Sharmā?
Can Shiv Shankar Sharmā?*
As Shiv Shankar Sharmā’s was wavering similarly, her eyes glistened, and then one tear rolled down each cheek.
She looked down at her wringing hands, and then she sniffed and returned her gaze to Shiv Shankar Sharmā.
“I can’t Shiv Shankar Sharmā, Shiv Shankar Sharmā, I just can’t.”
“I don’t want you to, Pārvatī Pāŧhak.” Shiv Shankar Sharmā said gravely, “Don’t worry. I married with you. I can’t ask you to sacrifice your Satītv and Pātivratý, even for our Brāhmañ community.”
“How do we know it would even help us?”
“It probably wouldn’t,” Shiv Shankar Sharmā seconded, realizing as they spoke about it that the thought of her with anyone else was just too painful.
“Durgesh needs something. He needs a change of scenery, a therapist, a non Muslim girlfriend, something. But you are right, there is nothing we can do about it except be his friends.”
“Friends,” Pārvatī Pāŧhak repeated softly. “Shiv Shankar Sharmā, are we… am I being selfish?”
“No, I don’t think anyone would call you that,” Shiv Shankar Sharmā replied.
“I mean, it does make sense in a crazy way. I think Durgesh really thinks Musalmān Beauties are his one chance at love. He needs some sort of reassurance that other women too find him attractive.”
“Do you find him attractive?” Shiv Shankar Sharmā asked.
“Yes, of course,” Pārvatī Pāŧhak answered, a bit too quickly for Shiv Shankar Sharmā’s taste.
Seeing the look in Shiv Shankar Sharmā’s eyes, she continued, “I mean, I’ve never, until tonight, thought of him in anything other than as a friend, but yeah, he is a good looking guy.”
“Maybe that’s all he needs to hear?”
“What if he needs more?”
“I don’t know,” Shiv Shankar Sharmā replied.
She paused and looked Shiv Shankar Sharmā in the eyes.
“Okay, I’ll do it,” she said with a firmness Shiv Shankar Sharmā didn’t expect.
“N-no, I…but…” Shiv Shankar Sharmā stammered in reply.
Pārvatī Pāŧhak approached Shiv Shankar Sharmā, reached out and squeezed Shiv Shankar Sharmā’s hand hard.
“You are a good Brāhmañ, a good friend. I love you.”
And then before Shiv Shankar Sharmā could say another word, Pārvatī Pāŧhak turned and walked out the door.
It took Shiv Shankar Sharmā a moment to process what they had agreed to, and suddenly Shiv Shankar Sharmā realized how ambiguous they’d left it, how open ended this plan was.
As Shiv Shankar Sharmā watched the door shut behind Pārvatī Pāŧhak, Shiv Shankar Sharmā was paralyzed.*
Shiv Shankar Sharmā realized that both Pārvatī Pāŧhak and Shiv Shankar Sharmā thought that it was the right thing in the abstract.
But Shiv Shankar Sharmā also realized that Pārvatī Pāŧhak was going along with it, for Shiv Shankar Sharmā, as much as for Durgesh.
But to his immense surprise, Shiv Shankar Sharmā now didn’t want her to.
Well, Shiv Shankar Sharmā did, and Shiv Shankar Sharmā didn’t.
Shiv Shankar Sharmā knew he should, but Shiv Shankar Sharmā couldn’t.
Choking back his guilt at failing his already immensely neglected Brāhmañ community, Shiv Shankar Sharmā wrapped his mind around the simple fact that he loved Pārvatī Pāŧhak and did not want to share her.
No matter how selfish that made him that was the way Shiv Shankar Sharmā felt.
The realization finally brought Shiv Shankar Sharmā out of his stupor.
Shiv Shankar Sharmā had to stop Pārvatī Pāŧhak.
Shiv Shankar Sharmā went out the door and down to the basement where I was staying and where Shiv Shankar Sharmā’s wife had gone to try to build up my confidence in Brāhmañ Beauties.
But as Shiv Shankar Sharmā reached the top of the basement steps Shiv Shankar Sharmā hesitated.
Instead of rushing down the stairs, Shiv Shankar Sharmā crept slowly to the bottom.
The basement was divided into three rooms — a laundry room, a small study, and guest bedroom.
At the bottom of the stairs, Shiv Shankar Sharmā could see the light on in my room.
With the door cracked open, Shiv Shankar Sharmā could hear us talking.
It wasn’t too late, at least.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Muħammad bin Qāsim remembered that he looked at me expectantly.
We were still on the Yacht then.
I was watching the sealed envelope Muħammad bin Qāsim had given to me.
“Taufīq Fātimah knows ACP Suraiyā Jamāl personally and she has mentioned to me two or three times, Jījū, that ACP Suraiyā Jamāl is a dangerous antagonist.”
“Taufīq Fātimah is right.” I said gravely.
Muħammad bin Qāsim watched me peculiarly.
“Jījū, am I to assume that perhaps there was some particular significance that attached to her remarks?”
“Taufīq Fātimah is your wife now, Sālé Miyān; you should understand that she isn’t a fool.”
“I know. Would ACP Suraiyā Jamāl cross examine me?”
“Your father’s disappearance isn’t a normal event in Ved Nagar. Is it?”
“Certainly not. ACP Suraiyā Jamāl is already asking me searching questions. About my poisoning, I mean. Not about the mysterious disappearance of my father, Al Muħammad Al Qāsim.”
I kept quiet for a moment only.
Then I whirled at him.
“As most of the Musalmān Beauties are nowadays, ACP Suraiyā Jamāl is also against Pseudo Musalmīn very much. That’s why Abbū Imām and Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan has chosen ACP Suraiyā Jamāl to assist Muħammad Åbdullah, the Commissioner of Police here.”
“The Musalmīn are suffering now on the entire globe due to the mad activities of crazy Musalmān terrorists.”
“The Musalmīn must oppose the terrorists more than they are doing now.”
“There are some Musalmīn that think the terrorists are right.” Muħammad bin Qāsim clenched his fists in frustration and helplessness.
“That’s the problem the rest of the Musalmīn have to face if they don’t oppose the terrorists.”
“The Musalmīn are now deliberately marrying their ardent Musalmān sisters and daughters to Hindus now. They think it would prove they aren’t communal at all.”
“Abbū married Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim Bājī to Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand. I was against it first, but when I listened to what Abbū had to say in the matter, I myself had to agree.”
“ACP Suraiyā Jamāl put in quite a bit of time asking me why we allowed Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim Bājī to marry Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand.”
“She is quite inquisitive about these matters.” I smiled somewhat curtly, “As Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, ACP Suraiyā Jamāl does too believe in Dr. Ali Sina that every Musalmān is either terrorist or potential terrorist at least. Sorry, the more I try to explain then it isn’t correct the more they believe I am being kind to the Musalmīn on the cost of Non Musalmīn’s life and wealth.”
“Well, they are correct. I myself think sometimes that you are more lenient to Musalmīn than to the Non Musalmīn.”
I whirled at Muħammad bin Qāsim once more.
“The hell you do.”*
Muħammad bin Qāsim smiled apologetically.
“I don’t want to lie to you any more, Sorry.”
“Sālé Miyān.” I smiled, “It’s alright. Okay.”
“I was poisoned a few days ago.”
“Before your father disappeared?”
“Yes. I thought it was a simple case of food poisoning, but apparently, it wasn’t. Anyway, that’s what ACP Suraiyā Jamāl says. She wants to make a lot of trouble.”
There was a moment of silence.
Only the sound of water slipping past the sides of the yacht was audible.
Moreover, it was plainly audible.
“I see.” I said.
“Taufīq Fātimah, my Hollywood Star wife, and I had dinner there. Both of us didn’t eat the same things. Taufīq Fātimah had red wine. I had white wine then. Taufīq Fātimah had prime ribs of beef cooked rare and French fried potatoes. I had fried oysters and vegetables. Only the desserts we had was the same. After half an hour of our eating, we both became ill. Taufīq Fātimah was only slightly ill while I was quite ill. I thought it a typical case of food poisoning.”
“I’m listening to.” I said.
I stood with my elbows over the rail.
I was looking down at the rippling water that curled up against the sides of the vessel, splashed over into little foam crested ripples and then fell rapidly astern.
There was silence for several seconds.
Then, Muħammad bin Qāsim said abruptly.
“I think we’re headed for the island, Jījū.”
“That’s right, Sālé Miyān.”
“I was talking about this food poisoning.”
“I requested you to protect Taufīq Fātimah if I die. I’m still waiting for the answer.”
“If Taufīq Fātimah would be implicated, I promise you to protect her if she is innocent.”
“She is innocent, Jījū. She is innocent. Somebody is trying his/her best to frame her.”
“She is a Hollywood Star, isn’t she?”
“Most of us Musalmīn don’t want to give that much liberty to Musalmān Beauties ever. We are so over possessive that we are crazy to govern even the lives of the Musalmān Beauties that aren’t related to us in any manner.”
“Are you telling me?”
“I think some crazy Musalmān is behind it, not Taufīq Fātimah. He/she wants to punish me by killing me in this way and let Taufīq Fātimah to go to gas chamber for the so called murder of her husband.”
“I was pretty sick. I called a physician. The same physician treated Taufīq Fātimah, my wife.”
I didn’t say anything.
Muħammad bin Qāsim continued to say.
“I explained to the physician treating both of us that it was food poisoning, probably something that had been canned because there was a burning metallic taste in my throat.”
I still didn’t say anything.
Muħammad bin Qāsim again continued.
“ACP Suraiyā Jamāl showed up yesterday afternoon and told me that I had been poisoned by arsenic. I think she is after to make something of it.”
“She asked me a lot of questions about what enemies I had and all that sort of type. Allah, I don’t want any newspaper and/or news channel notoriety of anything like that, particularly right at this time. I’m putting across several important business deals, Jījū, you already know.”
“That’s right,” I confirmed him, “How did ACP Suraiyā Jamāl think the arsenic get in the food?”
“She didn’t bother to tell me that. Instead, she wanted me to tell her that. I suggested her to go to the restaurant. If she is right about the arsenic, it might be the cook of the restaurant. Who else?”
“Anyone else poisoned?” I asked.
“ACP Suraiyā Jamāl said that there had been no other complaints.”
I raised my eyes.
The sun was setting.
A thin moist haze seemed to be rising from the water.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan came along the deck.
She said cheerily.
“Hey, you both look rather serious. Spoiling your appetite by talking some damn business?”
Muħammad bin Qāsim laughed.
“Certainly not, Bājī. I was telling Jījū about ACP Suraiyā Jamāl’s visit yesterday afternoon. You advised me to tell Jījū everything.”
“Oh, I still think it was food poisoning. You are already all right now.”
“Fit as a fiddle.”
“Yet, somewhat pale, however.”
“That’s an elder sister’s over concern, Bājī, nothing else.”
“Nonsense. What did your Jījū say?”
“He hasn’t. He was to say something when you came.”
“Well, I’m rounding up the guests for cocktails.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled authoritatively, “Dinner will be served in about thirty minutes. Your Jījū said he wants to give the cocktails time to take hold.”
Muħammad bin Qāsim asked casually.
“Bājī, do you know whether we’re headed for some fixed direction, or are we just cruising?”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan put her right index finger on her lips.
“I’m not talking, sorry. Sealed orders from your Jījū.”
“We’re probably going to the island.” Muħammad bin Qāsim said.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan laughed.
“I don’t want to be impolite to you, Muħammad bin Qāsim. But I’m living in relationship with your Jījū now for four years about. During these years I’ve learned when it pleases Durgesh that I talk and when it pleases him that I won’t.”
Muħammad bin Qāsim teased her.
“Oh, come on, Bājī. You are not an ordinary wife any more. You are Al Sadar Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat, the Everfirst President of Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat.”
“Jacqueline Lincoln is the Everfirst Lady President of United States of America. But even Jacqueline Lincoln knows how to govern our ever indomitable Hindu husband. If we want something, we are cheerfully ready to pay for it. It’s an art to govern your husband.”
Muħammad bin Qāsim laughed.
I was smiling on the efficient smartness of Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan.
She was indomitable too.
Only Durgesh could govern Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and Jacqueline Lincoln.
In addition, it was a great honor for me, I knew.
Muħammad bin Qāsim and I accompanied Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan down to the canopied after deck.*
The seven hundred eighty six girls caught up with Taufīq Fātimah just as she reached the strips.
“Taufīq Fātimah,” one girl shouted to her.
Taufīq Fātimah didn’t recognize any of them
Nevertheless, their number, Seven hundred Eighty Six, told her their special status.
They were Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s girlies.
Taufīq Fātimah was now almost sure of it.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was the utmost successful Musalmān Beauty now.
She has successfully managed to conquer not Durgesh only, despite her thirty-two years younger bubbling youth, she successfully used her live in relationship with Durgesh to establish Democracy in Saůūdī Årab too.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan used her extremely stunning Musalmān beauty and immensely overflowing Panjvaqtah Namāzī female Musalmān youth for it.
However, it was because her parents were with Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan.
Taufīq Fātimah also wanted to do many things, but her parents are too orthodox and too conservative.
The Seven hundred Eighty Six Musalmān Beauties definitely knew who Taufīq Fātimah was, even if Taufīq Fātimah didn’t know any of them.
“We want a run,” one of the Seven hundred Eighty Six Musalmān Beauties said, speaking loudly so that the people passing them could hear the challenge, “You can lead and pick the point.”
“Done,” Taufīq Fātimah smiled triumphantly, “You said you are Seven hundred Eighty Six in number. C-786th then, Durgesh Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī localway intersection.”
The Seven hundred Eighty Six Musalmān Beauties frowned.
Does Taufīq Fātimah outexcel them in brains too?
All the Seven hundred Eighty Six Musalmān Beauties were around twenty-eight.
So was Taufīq Fātimah.
Taufīq Fātimah leaned over and rolled up the cuffs of her pants a little.
She could shake all the Seven hundred Eighty Six before they reached the destination Taufīq Fātimah had named.
More couples, some triples too, passed and stepped on to the nearest strip.
The triples were not as efficient as the couples were.
The Pseudo Musalmīn husbands that formed the third of the Triples, were not as efficient as their Musalmān Houseladies and their Hindu lovers/live in relationship partners were.
Does Bisexuality really affect the Pseudo Musalmīn husbands adversely?
Nevertheless, the Triples are not only legal here; they are surviving as well, despite futile terrorist attacks.
No terrorist attack ever succeeded here at Ved Nagar.
The Law and Order at Ved Nagar was marvelous.
The governments of almost every country now studying the management of the Law and Order at Ved Nagar, with the Ved Nagar Government‘s express permission of course.*
A dance music was being played on the canopied after deck.
Sidrah Aħmad was dancing with Shankar Mahāpralayankar.
Most of my Musalmān live in relationship partners and lady friends agreed with Shankar Mahāpralayankar more than with me.
“Your vision is right but your planning to achieve it is impractical, Durgesh darling.” Sidrah Aħmad used to say, “I think Shankar Mahāpralayankar is more practical.”
“Thank you, Sidrah Aħmad.” Shankar Mahāpralayankar beamed at her.
I smiled and looked at Nafīsah Salmān.
Nafīsah Salmān grimaced.
“I don’t agree with you, Sidrah Aħmad. You want to say, the terrorists cannot be controlled effectively if the noble persons too don’t resort to illegal means?”
“Sidrah Aħmad has a point there, Nafīsah Salmān.” Imām Muħammad Ħasan had looked at his wife gravely.
Nafīsah Salmān laughed.
“I never expect anything better from you, Imām Muħammad Ħasan.”
“Durgesh is a great man, no doubt.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan said, “But he doesn’t understand Musalmān terrorists psychology at all. He thinks the Musalmīn are terrorists, criminals/criminal minded because they are Uneducated/Under Educated.”
“It’s not true?” I stopped my Uncut Hindu Penis inside Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan entirely buried there to my balls.*
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan wrapped her strong nude legs around my nude Hindu male waist.
I felt my Uncut Hindu Penis driven more into her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī young Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt.
I squeezed her nude young Musalmān buttocks and kissed Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan on her lips.
“Dr. Ali Sina doesn’t agree with you, my dear Hindu husband.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan winked at me, contracting her vaginal muscles around my entire Uncut Hindu Shaft.
“And you think Dr. Ali Sina is a better authority on Islam than myself?” I smiled benignly enjoying my entire Uncut Hindu Shaft inside her young smart Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan smiled triumphantly but he didn’t see anything himself.
Shankar Mahāpralayankar had now Sidrah Aħmad on her knees.
He was penetrating Sidrah Aħmad now from her glorious behind.
Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī said gravely.
“Dr. Ali Sina isn’t alone, Durgesh. He has too many followers and even numerous Co-authors now.”
“What the hell you think it does mean Ħumairah?”
Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī kept licking my Uncut Hindu Cock visiting Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s young Musalmān Cunt vigorously.
“Simply that Dr. Ali Sina and his Co-authors can’t be ignored only by shrugging our shoulders.”
“Dr. Ali Sina has challenged the followers and admirers of Islam if anyone of them proves him wrong, Dr. Ali Sina would pay him a large amount of money.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan chuckled, “Why don’t you accept his challenge, Durgesh darling, méré Hindu Piyā, Hindu Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt, hum Musalmān ħasīnāon ké Hindu Kħasam, Hindu husband of us Musalmān Beauties! if you think Dr. Ali Sina and his Co-authors are not correct in their interpretation of Islam?”*
The dog, deftly avoiding Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr’s kick, stood watching Muħammad bin Qāsim with lips that curled back from his fangs.
Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr said gravely.
“Come on in. Let’s go inside, sit down, and talk this thing over in a civilized fashion.”
“We may differ about our idea what the civilized fashion actually is.” Muħammad bin Qāsim smiled sarcastically.
Nevertheless, Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr was smarter.
“Oh no, I don’t think so. You are as cuckold as I am. So, our ideas about what is civilized and what’s not can’t differ very much.”
Muħammad bin Qāsim shouted at Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr.
“What the hell you mean? I am not cuckold even a bit.”
“You are, my dear boy, you are.” Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr smiled patronizingly, “Most of us Musalmīn are actually cuckold to our Musalmān Houseladies and their Hindu lovers/live in relationship partners whether we are bold enough to acknowledge and accept it or not.”
Muħammad bin Qāsim looked at Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr contemptuously.
“You are still alive despite your immensely hateful opinion about most of us Musalmīn, because you are living here at Ved Nagar. If you lived elsewhere the Musalmān terrorists had killed you already.”
“My dear child,” Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr smiled patronizingly once more, “You have only heard about Musalmān terrorists, don’t you? Have you met ever anyone?”
“What do you mean?”
“Al Sadar Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan herself is your Bājī. She is herself running the movement Cuckold Your Musalmān husband since she wasn’t even the Everfirst President of Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat. She is the Brain and Power behind cuckolding most of us Musalmān husbands. What do you think? Durgesh has cuckolded most of us Musalmān husbands? Shankar Mahāpralayankar has cuckolded most of us Musalmān husbands? Hindus have cuckolded most of us Musalmān husbands? No, never. Our own Musalmān Houseladies have cuckolded most of us Musalmān husbands.”
“Because you Musalmān terrorists were blaspheming Islam more than the non Musalmīn.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan thundered at Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr suddenly, “Even then the impotent Musalmīn were not criticizing you blaspheming bastards. We, Musalmān Houseladies of yours, never did cuckold you enjoying it very much. We did it because we didn’t have another option whatsoever. You bastard Musalmān terrorists, criminal/criminal minded Musalmīn compelled us, your own Musalmān Houseladies, to cuckold you if we had to save our own Īmān.”*
Amīnah Zahīr raised her hand.
“Muħammad bin Qāsim, have you come here to discuss the cuckolding of you Musalmān husbands?”
Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr laughed at Muħammad bin Qāsim contemptuously, scornfully.
Muħammad bin Qāsim was too indulged in discussions with Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr he hadn’t even realized when Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr had brought them through the first door to the left.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan had led the way into the room that had been fitted up as a library cum bedroom.
It was a neat job of books and shelves.
I was fucking Amīnah Zahīr there on the bed.
“Kħush Āmadīd,” Amīnah Zahīr smiled at Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim, Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand and Muħammad bin Qāsim, making a sweeping inclusive gesture, “Welcome.”
The party seated themselves.
“All right,” Amīnah Zahīr smiled at them melodically, “now let’s hear what you folks have to say.”
“You’re getting the cart and horse all mixed up,” Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand smiled courteously, “We want to hear what you have to say.”
“We have nothing to say.” Amīnah Zahīr smiled disarmingly.
“You knew Al Samīnah Al Qāsim.”
“Who says so?” Amīnah Zahīr smiled charmingly.
“I say so.” Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand smiled charmingly too, “Amīnah Zahīr, you knew Al Samīnah Al Qāsim when Al Samīnah Al Qāsim was in Nevada. You were quite friendly with her. You talked Al Samīnah Al Qāsim out of getting a divorce from her husband. You told Al Samīnah Al Qāsim that if she’d sit tight and let her husband think Al Samīnah Al Qāsim had secured a divorce, then when Imām Muħammad Ħasan had found some other interest he could be made to pay a lot of money for a settlement.”
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
The Ǻrab Sheikħ shifted his right hand to a position near the first lapel of his green coat.
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand caught a glimpse of a revolver in a shoulder holster.
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand smiled.
Still having faith in violent means and strategies.
Ħuzūr S.A.W were compelled to use violent means in his divine holy lifetime to establish peace everywhere.
He S.A.W couldn’t do it another way.
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand was sure if Ħuzūr S.A.W were today he S.A.W would never have resorted to any violent means whatsoever.
The modern Ǻrab Sheikħs were never capable to understand Muħsin-e-insāniyat S.A.W.
They had erroneously surrendered to Ǻrab Imperialism in the name of Islam.
Consequently they had themselves killed the mission of Ħuzūr S.A.W unknowingly, imprudently.
Ved Nagar was a City of Shaktimāns.
What could the dog or his revolver do if Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand used his mind/spiritual power?
Present day Musalmīn, Pseudo Musalmīn actually, had faith in the means Yazīd Malåūn had more than in the faith Ħuzūr S.A.W had.
The dog, facing the door, elevated his tail, the tip of it waving to and fro.
A bolt shot on the inside of the door.
The Ǻrab Sheikħ opened the door for an inch or two.
A safety chain was holding it in that position.
A porch light clicked on, outlining Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand in brilliance.
“Who are you?” The Ǻrab Sheikħ asked Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand, “What do you want?”
“I’m looking for the master of this mansion.”
“I’d prefer to tell that to himself only.”
“Give me some hint to tell him why you want to meet him.”
“About some properties he has here at Ved Nagar.”
“As far as I know, the Boss is interested only in purchasing the properties here, not in selling.”
“This mansion is also owned by the Mayor himself?”
“Not by the Mayor of Ved Nagar. It’s on his personal name along with Begum Sāliħah Ayyūb.”
“I’d like to meet anyone of them.”
“Well, not as late as tonight now. Go back to wherever you have come from, or to a hotel. Call on him after ten o’clock in the morning.” The Ǻrab Sheikħ started to close the door.
Then, something about the dog’s attitude caught the attention of the Ǻrab Sheikħ.
He asked suspiciously.
“Hey, how the hell did you get past that dog?”
“I happen to know something about their psychology.” Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand smiled graciously.
“Well, the dog is not supposed to let anyone out of a car after dark.”
“It seems the dog made an exception in my case,” Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand kept smiling politely yet gracefully, “I just got out of the car and…”
“Why the hell the dog made an exception for you?”
“Ask your dog.”
The Ǻrab Sheikħ frowned,
“Just who are you anyway?”
“I’m trying to find out something about Al Samīnah Al Qāsim.”
The Ǻrab Sheikħ’s face became rigidly immobile.
“Know anything about her?” Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand asked politely in his sweetest voice.
“No,” The Ǻrab Sheikħ said, and slammed the door.
“Her bodyguard has been found murdered early this morning.” Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand called through the closed door.
He was taking safe risks using the general psychology of the Ǻrab Sheikħs.
There was no response.
Yet, on the other hand, Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand heard no sound of steps in the corridor.
It indicated the Ǻrab Sheikħ hadn’t turned away from the door.
It further indicated the Ǻrab Sheikħ was hesitating whether to turn away or he should open the door.
It was the correct psychological moment to attack psychologically further more.
“Al Samīnah Al Qāsim stopped here.” Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand said gravely, “Her bodyguard was driving the car. Al Samīnah Al Qāsim had her gasoline tank filled here.”
There was a pause, then the door jerked open.
“What was that you said?” The Ǻrab Sheikħ demanded.
“I said Al Samīnah Al Qāsim stopped here sometime around twelve thirty o’clock in the morning and had her gas tank filled.”
“You must be drunk or crazy. I neither know which nor do I give a damn. Now, get back in your car or I’ll tell the dog to tear your leg off.”
“Do that and I’ll sue you persons for damages. It would be a fun to wind up owning a Ved Nagar ranch of you persons.”
“It isn’t that easy, my boy.”
“Go on,” Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand told the Ǻrab Sheikħ, “Tell your dog to tear of my leg and see what happens.”
“What the hell you want?”
“I want to ask something about Al Samīnah Al Qāsim.”
“She isn’t here.”
“What if she was?”
“Ask the Mayor or Begum Sāliħah Ayyūb.” Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand smiled cunningly, “Being an arrogant dumb Ǻrab Sheikħ you may not understand what if Al Samīnah Al Qāsim was here while her bodyguard is found murdered, but neither Durgesh nor his Begum Sāliħah Ayyūb maybe as dumb as you are. Your indiscreet arrogance never allows you to use your wisdoms. Or, don’t you have any wisdom at all, man?”*
There followed a long moment.
During the moment, the heavy, sinewy, powerful Ǻrab Sheikħ, Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr, behind the door, met Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand’s smart and brilliant eyes in thoughtful appraisal.
He turned and looked at Amīnah Zahīr and me for instructions.
Just Eighteen Just Adult Amīnah Zahīr was still nude on her back.
I was still between her glorious Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān legs.
My sixty four years old, utmost experienced, Musalmān Cunts Champion Uncut Hindu Lund was still enjoying its victory over the Just Eighteen Just Adult Musalmān Cunt, visiting it triumphantly, proudly, vigorously.
Amīnah Zahīr impishly nodded to Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr.
She didn’t hesitate even for a second to face Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand, while I was fucking her.
Ved Nagar Constitution allowed her.
That’s only what Amīnah Zahīr cared about.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was her ideal.
And Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was a proud nudist feminist, even now when Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was the Everfirst President of Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat.
It was the visitor’s responsibility to choose whether s/he wanted to see a pair in lovemaking or not.
The Citizens of Ved Nagar were constitutionally allowed to make love anywhere they damn pleased publicly.
The persons having objection, could leave the place, if they didn’t want to see them in making love.
Being himself a citizen of Ved Nagar Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand knew it very well.
Getting permission from Amīnah Zahīr, the Just Eighteen Just Adult young lady, involved in lovemaking with me, Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr removed the safety chain from the door.
He invited them in.
“Come in. They are in lovemaking. But if you haven’t any taboo in watching them making love, you may come in.
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand smiled.
“Thank you. None of us has any taboo whatsoever against watching our hosts making love. It’s their mansion. It’s their privilege.”
“Okay, you may come in, Mr.─?”
“Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand.”
“All right, Mr. Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand, come in.”
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand turned back toward the car,
“Come on, Bājī, Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim, Muħammad bin Qāsim,” he called.
“What about that damned dog?” Muħammad bin Qāsim called irritably, “Can’t you put him in his damned closet?”
Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr said curtly,
“The dog remains where he is. However, he won’t do anything unless I tell him to.”
“You, caretaker here?” Muħammad bin Qāsim asked trying to humiliate Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr.
Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr smiled curtly,
“Never mind. Don’t bother your child brain to understand my status here. Nevertheless, I’m representing Imām Muħammad Ħasan here, if it’s any of your damned business.”
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand interfered.
“We are also representing Imām Muħammad Ħasan. There isn’t anything to be arrogant to each other.”
“Imām Muħammad Ħasan didn’t inform me of you peoples’ arrival on his behalf, neither Muħammad Åbdullah bothered to do so.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan opened the door.
Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim followed her Nanad Bājī, her sister in law.
Both of them slid out to the ground, walked confidently toward the porch, watching Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand standing there.
The dog turned to regard them, gave a low throated, ominous growl, but made no move.
Muħammad bin Qāsim had put one foot on the ground.
However, as soon as he heard the growl, Muħammad bin Qāsim promptly returned to the automobile and slammed the door.
Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr eyed Muħammad bin Qāsim scornfully,
“Shame on you. Even the ladies are more daring. Damn you. It’s all right.” then he turned to the dog, “Shut up, Shérū!”
The dog ceased growling, regarded Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s confident approach with hard-eyed appraisal, ignoring Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim altogether, then slowly waved the tip of his tail.
Muħammad bin Qāsim, observed that Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim made it all right.
He opened the door once more, placed his right foot on the ground tentatively, cautiously, followed it with his left foot, and took two or three guardedly diffident, timid, steps toward the porch.
The dog bristled, stiffened, growled, then suddenly made a lunge for Muħammad bin Qāsim.
Muħammad bin Qāsim whirled, raced back into the car just as the snarling dog flung himself against the door, his teeth snapping at the metal.
Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr opened the door, ran out on the porch, yelled,
“Shérū! Down! Damn it, Shérū, get down!”
The dog looked back over his shoulder.
Slowly and reluctantly, the dog sank to a crouching position on the ground.
Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr smiled to himself.
That’s what he himself was to his wife, Zaynab bint Åāmir Umm Ruman razī Allāhu tålā ånahā.
When Zaynab bint Åāmir Umm Ruman razī Allāhu tålā ånahā scolded him, Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr did also sink to crouching position, near her beautiful sacred Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān feet.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan wanted all of them that way.
Moreover, they hadn’t another option.
He was proud of himself that he was a cuckold to his extremely beautiful wife, Zaynab bint Åāmir Umm Ruman razī Allāhu tålā ånahā and her Hindu lover, Durgesh, the greatest.
Ved Nagar was an actual Democratic City State.
Otherwise, the cuckold Musalmīn could never celebrate their Independence day openly.
Durgesh was against it.
Most of the HVSI persons were against it.
Nevertheless, most of them allowed the proposal to put to vote.
Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr was immensely glad when the Ārsh Sadan of HVSI ultimately announced the victory of the cuckold Musalmīn.
They were allowed to celebrate their Independence day.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and her entire 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 supported the cuckold Musalmīn.
Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr was immensely indebted and grateful to Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan.
He shouted to the dog.
“Here, Shérū, come here. Come here to me!”
The dog turned and came toward Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr as though expecting a beating.
“Damn you,” Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr said, “I told you not to do that. Now you get down and stay down.”
Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr walked to the car confidently with immense self-pride.
He wasn’t ashamed of himself that he was a cuckold husband.
Neither any of his cuckold friends was.
They had successfully formed a Cuckold Society maintaining their own kind of freedom with their extremely beautiful Musalmān Houseladies and their Hindu lovers/live in relationship partners.
It was a punishable crime now in Ved Nagar to disgrace them or their society.
It was a Society of Triples, instead of couples, supported by Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan herself.
The Musalmān wife, Hindu lover/live in relationship partner and Musalmān husband were the three members of a legal unit of it.
So many Musalmīn were against it, yet there were some Musalmīn too that supported the movement Cuckold Your Musalmān husband.
Their demand was ‘Cuckold the entire terrorists to disgrace and punish them publicly.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånahā herself for them, reincarnated.
Muħammad bin Qāsim was watching Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr curiously.
“Come in,” Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr said to Muħammad bin Qāsim, “Shérū won’t hurt you now.”
Muħammad bin Qāsim looked past Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr at the dog, and said huskily,
“If that damned dog makes a pass at me, I’m going to shoot at him.”
Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr eyed Muħammad bin Qāsim with cold hard eyes.
“You would do nothing of the sort if you don’t want to get hurt yourself. If you hurt the dog even infinitesimal, I’d break your damned neck. Understand?”
Muħammad bin Qāsim shouted.
“You damned cuckold, I know everything about you. Never try to threaten me again, you shameless creature.”
“Well, it’s better to be shameless as I am than being shameful as you are. Now, come on.”
Muħammad bin Qāsim gritted through his teeth helplessly, quite annoyed.
Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr was smiling at Muħammad bin Qāsim with quite a smirk on his face,
“My boy, you won’t have any trouble with Shérū as long as you get out and come in moving confidently.”
“You bloody cuckold, are you teaching me how to behave with that damned dog?” Muħammad bin Qāsim shouted quite irritated now.
“Sure, you impotent,” Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr laughed.
“Damn you. I’m not impotent.” Muħammad bin Qāsim shouted again.
“Your girlfriends claim that you are.” Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr smiled deliberately humiliating Muħammad bin Qāsim now.
“They are horny bitches. They claim my impotence only because they want to get sympathy of Durgesh and his legendary unique Uncut Hindu Lund.”
“If you were a man why the hell your Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān girlfriends would need Durgesh’s Uncut Hindu Lund instead of your cut Musalmān nūnī?”
“Cut Musalmān Lund.” Muħammad bin Qāsim shouted irritably.
“Cut Musalmān nūnī.” Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr laughed.
“Cut Musalmān Lund.”
“Cut Musalmān nūnī.” Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr repeated, “That’s what your girlfriends call your entirely incompetent bloody sexual organ. Don’t they, my boy?”
“Shut up, you bloody cuckold.”
“It’s better to be even a cuckold than being impotent.” Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr kept laughing at Muħammad bin Qāsim.*
Muħammad bin Qāsim was surprised at the cuckold’s entirely unashamed aggressive behavior.
“Oh, come on.” Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr said, “Move confidently but don’t ever start running from a dog, and don’t ever act as though you were afraid.”
“Stand still and let the damned dog tear a leg off, I suppose. Isn’t it?” Muħammad bin Qāsim said sarcastically.
“Impotent, your Jījū and your sisters didn’t have any trouble,” Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr pointed out, “did they?”
“The trouble I had,” Muħammad bin Qāsim told Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr, “was enough to make up for all the four of us.”
Muħammad bin Qāsim eased himself out of the automobile and followed Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr to the porch.
“Come in,” Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr invited them, “Shérū, get the hell back out of the way.”
Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr aimed a halfhearted kick imitating his ever-dominant wife, Zaynab bint Åāmir Umm Ruman razī Allāhu tålā ånahā used to aim at him with her foot.
He used to enjoy both the actions.
Zaynab bint Åāmir Umm Ruman razī Allāhu tålā ånahā kicking him with her foot as if he was her dog, instead of her husband and imitating her himself with Shérū and other dogs.
His critics laughed at him.
“You love blasphemy, don’t you?” his worst critic, Imām Salāħuddīn Ayyūbī had watched Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr scornfully once.
“How do you mean?” Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr smiled at him as if it wasn’t anything abnormal.
“Your wife is also Zaynab bint Åāmir but she isn’t certainly Umm Ruman razī Allāhu tålā ånahā. Is she?”
“I respect her this way. Can’t I even respect my wife? Damn you.”
“Isn’t it a fact that when your wife gets fucked by Durgesh sitting on his lap, she uses you as her footrest, as her pedestal?”
“So what? I love it. I enjoy it.” Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr smiled proudly, entirely unashamed of himself.
“You clean Durgesh’s legendary unique Uncut Hindu Lund after Durgesh sodomizes your wife, by sucking him taking it in your mouth. Don’t you?”
“It’s a new society, Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah. Try to understand it Imām Sāħab.”*
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam