Al Rizwānah Assultān smiled seductively at me.
“Unless you are representing Al Nādir Al Ghāzī in the Corporation too, I have to watch myself carefully how and upto what extent I can provide you the information concerned.”
“I want to know who holds Certificate Number 786 in the Corporation.”
“I can’t tell you that, offhand, you can understand that.”
“When’s your stockholders’ meeting?”
“Day after tomorrow.”
“It’s a regular annual meeting?”
“What are the provisions in the bylaws about proxy voting, if any?”
“Naturally, I believe the provisions confirm to the state law. However, to be exact I have to consult the record. I can’t recall everything offhand exactly, naturally.”
“The media section also belongs to the Corporation?”
“It’s given to Ma’am Al Jihad Al Vaqār.”
“Not to Ma’am Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb?”
“It hasn’t been transferred fully to Madam Al Jihad Al Vaqār?”
“There are some legal problems. Your law firm HVS Law Internationals is itself handling it. Your associate advocate Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī is the in charge I believe,”
“Al Jihad Al Vaqār holds a lot of proxies with Al Nādir Al Ghāzī’s confirmation?”
“I believe so, yes.”
“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss the affairs of the Corporation, Sir. I’m not authorized to disclose such information about the Corporation, even if you represent the Corporation itself.”
“Who is authorized?” I smiled, “Al Nādir Al Ghāzī himself only?”
Al Rizwānah Assultān herself smiled teasingly now,
“Sir, I’m afraid your stepson, Mr. Al Nādir Al Ghāzī is not an officer of the company.”
“I know. Who is the President, anyway, if Al Nādir Al Ghāzī isn’t?”
“Madam Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī, your own Live in Relationship Partner”*
Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb squeezed my Hindu Penis fully embedded into her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt, changed position on my nude Hindu male lap, took hold of her mobile and punched the number of the district attorney,
“May I get Mr. District Attorney, please? Isn’t this his personal number?”
She listened to what was said from other side.
Then she said,
“I want the complaint division, if you please,”
After another moment, she said,
“This is Mrs. Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Ghāzī talking. I’m a wife of Al Nādir Al Ghāzī. According to Muslim Personal Law 1937 a Musalmān can have only four wives at a time. My ever-erring husband has now a fifth wife without divorcing any of us four duly married wives according to Sharīåt-e-Muħammadīs. He is openly living with that woman illegally. He has deserted me and gone through the formality of an invalid, fraudulent and entirely spurious Mexican divorce. I desire to swear a complaint against Al Nādir Al Ghāzī, charging him with illegal marriage. Could you give me an appointment for some time tomorrow morning?”
There was a moment’s silence, and then she smiled and said,
“I am aware that you would prefer not to stir up the question of these Mexican divorces. As it happens, rather I am the one who is stirring it up. I insist upon swearing to a complaint charging my husband with illegal marriage. What time may I have an appointment, please?”
Again she listened, smiled and then said,
“Ten-fifteen? Thank you very much. And for whom shall I ask?… Yes, Mr. Gajānan, yes. The deputy in the complaint department, yes. Thank you very much. At ten-fifteen promptly I’ll be there.”
She disconnected her mobile and looked at me.
“The terrorist bastard has to run away now to save his own skin, instead of planning any terrorist attack on anyone.”
“Locking the stable after the horse is stolen.”
“What do you mean?”
“Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī is a dangerous antagonist for you.”
“Your associate advocate in your international law firm, HVS Law Internationals?”
“You know her already.”
Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb kept herself moving up and down on my rock hard upstanding Uncut Hindu Penis.
“She can’t change his illegal marriage into a legal one. Can she, Anant Muslimātchod Hindu Piyā?”
I grabbed her slim waist, playing every now and then with her beautiful nude Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān buttocks.
“Al Nādir Al Ghāzī calls Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī ‘Bājī’, kisses her feet with ardent devotion and licks her Musalmān Cunt and her Musalmān ass too, after I fuck Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī.”
“What a perfect younger brother,” Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb laughed, “that’s what these terrorist bastard Pseudo Musalmīn deserve everywhere.”
Her voice was full of intense venom for Al Nādir Al Ghāzī.*
Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī’s eyes lit up when my Uncut Hindu Penis penetrated her entirely once again.
“Sorry, I couldn’t come earlier, Durgesh. Yet I had to check up on a couple of things before I came down to talk with you. Frankly, Durgesh, the situation is incredible.”
“What’s wrong with it, Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī?”
“It’s incredible, absolutely incredible. Things are in a hell of a shape.” She pushed her extremely beautiful gorgeous nude Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān buttocks into my nude male Hindu lap, swallowing my entire Uncut Hindu Lund into her still tight Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot.
I couldn’t believe she had really her own children.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan claimed it’s due to their five times a day offering Salwāt.
It constricted the vaginas of them and expanded their beautiful female buttocks splendidly five times a day.
However, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan claimed so many things more.
She claimed that the Stavan of Hindus similarly strengthened their male genital organ.
Everyone knew she claimed it strategically to establish her Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah.
Except the ever horniest Young Musalmān Lady Brigade of her Seven Movements, and their ever biased Hindu male lovers, none else believed such nonsense.
Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī knew however, that countless Pseudo Musalmīn did too suspect that it was true.
The ever-superstitious damnfools.
“Tell me about it.” I said.
“Well, now, the setup of the ‘Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah’ media empire and Ghāzī Mining, Exploration and Development Company is a little peculiar, Anant Muslimātchod Hindu Piyā. I can’t go into details but Al Nādir Al Ghāzī has successfully deceived his stockholders that he is the big shot, not I. He made them believe that only for legal purposes Al Nādir Al Ghāzī strategically keeps in the background himself. On the ‘advice of counsel’, he’s keeping out of Board of Directors and doesn’t hold any elective office, deliberately, strategically, cunningly. Because of certain deals with a partnership, his interests in that are perfectly all right as long as he’s only a stockholder. His such interests in that partnership might only be questioned legally if he were a Director.”
I nodded fucking Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī fiercely.
Virtually, actually, she was the President of Ghāzī Mining, Exploration and Development Company legally.
It suited Al Nādir Al Ghāzī too, because in this way he could have property in Ved Nagar even, the ever-mysterious City State.
Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī went on.
“He has successfully spread the strategic rumors that all of us are actually his persons, working for him actually, not for ourselves.”
“Dummies for Al Nādir Al Ghāzī?” I smiled sarcastically.
There were numerous Musalmān stepsons of mine who didn’t even call me ‘Dad’.
They preferred to call me ‘Mr. Durgesh’ instead.
I watched him gravely.
“A father is supposed to give some sacraments to his sons, my son.”
“How could you do that? You haven’t fathered us, your Musalmān stepsons, exactly.”
“Sure, nevertheless, when your Ammīs honored me with their Live in Relationship with me, their children too became related to me, at least somewhat, if not entirely.”
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī smiled quite amused.
“That’s very nice of you. Yet, you know very well none of us ever approved of what our Ammīs did.”
“That’s your personal matter with your Ammīs. You want me to intervene?”
“Certainly not.” Al Nādir Al Ghāzī controlled himself, “Yet you never stopped taking interest in our wives, even when we divorced them.”
“And why should you have any objection to that? Once you’ve divorced them why should you’ve any interest in their whereabouts?”
“Well, they are our ex wives, aren’t they?”
“So what? Once divorced they can live in Relationship with anyone they decide.”
“You aren’t anyone you know.” Al Nādir Al Ghāzī retorted, “They deliberately choose you on us despite we are more perfect for them according to our age.”
“Then why do you divorcé them?”
“A person loses interest in the same dish daily even if it was the best for him/her when s/he first wanted the other.”
“That’s the difference between our reasoning. I don’t think they are dishes only.”
“I know you Hindus hate divorces.”
“Nothing. In the present legal system of Democracy, every adult is free to do anything s/he damn pleases.”
“You don’t like it. Don’t you?”
“I hate when my ex wives claim they are happier with you than they were with me.”
“I can understand that. Yet it’s their own judgment. They naturally compare their present life partner with their ex life partner. If they find me better, why it’s bothering you? Let them feel anything whatsoever.”*
I watched Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī fucking her vigorously.
I knew she loved Al Nādir Al Ghāzī to the extent to help him in business, at least.
Despite the fact that she had acknowledged Al Nādir Al Ghāzī had spread rumors successfully that they all were his persons only, actually.
“After I telephoned you, you delayed coming to me. You were talking with Al Rizwānah Assultān?”
“Exactly. I know you are busy almost ever in defending us Musalmān houseladies from our ever inhuman Pseudo Musalmān mankind. There’s no use taking up your time talking about something unless I knew about it myself entirely. I wanted to find out everything I could.”
“What did you find out?”
“Exactly what she’s done?” I penetrated her once more fiercely.
Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī enjoyed my violent Hindu penetration of her still tight Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt very much, squeezed my Uncut Hindu Lund with her vaginal muscles gratefully and thanked me with her immensely indebted eyes.
“Well, we sent out proxies in the usual form, made out to A.J.A.V. Al Ghāzī. I’m damned if Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb didn’t send out other proxies made out to ‘A.J.A.V. Al Ghāzī, holder of Certificate of Stock 786.’ Well, you’ve guessed it, Durgesh. Certificate of Stock number 786 was made out to Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb four years ago when she and Al Nādir Al Ghāzī were all hunky-dory and everything was sitting pretty.”
“What happened to the original proxies?” I kept fucking Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī ferociously more and more.
She loved it very much.
“They are all in order, all right.” Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī said, “They are filed in alphabetical order, just as neat as a pin. You’ve met Al Rizwānah Assultān. You know how she goes about it, filing ’em all in order with cross references to the stock ledger and all that.”
She knew very well how to please me.
Every beautiful Musalmān houselady knew, she thought.
It was the time almost every beautiful houselady was wooing Durgesh entirely unashamed of herself.
Durgesh was the perfect man every woman needed to possess.
“Nevertheless,” I said enjoying her offerings very much, “it would certainly seem to me that someone would have realized the situation when these other proxies began to come in. Certainly, Al Rizwānah Assultān must have known that she hadn’t sent those proxies out, and when a new proxy, made to ‘A.J.A.V. Al Ghāzī, holder of Certificate of Stock 786’, came in, you’d certainly think Al Rizwānah Assultān would have checked up on it.”
Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī surrendered.
She couldn’t argue in protection of Al Rizwānah Assultān with me any more.
“You would, for a fact. However, the funny part of it is that Al Rizwānah Assultān doesn’t know when those proxies came in. They are there all right; they are signed, all right, and they are filed neatly, in apple pie order. Nevertheless, they must have come in all at once and some filing clerk did the job. Al Rizwānah Assultān swears they never went across her desk. She says she would have known about them if they had.”
“You believe Al Rizwānah Assultān?”
“I believe Al Rizwānah Assultān, yes.”
“And the Stockholders’ meeting is day after tomorrow?”
“That’s right. Moreover, I don’t mind telling you, my love, there’s hell to pay. We can’t get hold of Al Nādir Al Ghāzī. He’s off on a second honeymoon with his new extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān wife, Āmnah Azhar. All wrapped up in his new Musalmān redhead of his. Al Nādir Al Ghāzī, my damnfool son, doesn’t want anyone to know where he is. Doesn’t want to be disturbed by business. And he is faced with the loss of his whole company! I’m worried. I’m frightened.”
Trying to keep her mind on positive track still now, Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī herself was fucking me now wildly.
“What will happen? Allah, don’t tell me you don’t know Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb. You fuck her too. She is herself your Live in Relationship partner now. When she was with us she quarreled with me I didn’t pay proper attention in upbringing my son, Al Nādir Al Ghāzī. She accused me of being dedicated to my own sex life more than to upbringing my son more painstakingly. Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb will have the books audited. She will shake down this, that and the other. Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb will put her own Board of Directors. She will sue the Ghāzī partnership for fraud on a couple of deals that haven’t panned out so well. Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb will call the Income Tax People and point out certain things that we’ve keeping covered up. Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb will wreck the whole damn business. She’d collapse the whole house of cards!”
Now, Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī was fucking me furiously, wildly, as if she couldn’t survive without fucking me utterly.
“I see,” I said keeping my mind cool and active profoundly, instead of only enjoying her wildfire sexual activities, “Has Al Rizwānah Assultān checked with any of the filing clerks, to see who filed those other proxies?”
“Well, in a quiet sort of a way, Al Rizwānah Assultān is snooping around. She doesn’t want any of the help to know that anything’s wrong. She is asking a few guarded questions.”
“You think there are some skeletons in the closet of the Ghāzī Company?”
“Well, now,” Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī hedged, “I’m trying to use my best judgment. Yet, I think I’ve told you every damn thing I can.”
“You are a heavy stockholder in the company, Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī?” I asked smiling as if it wasn’t any important thing at all.
Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī grinned,
“Don’t make any mistake about me, my Hindu love, I hold the major share of stock in the company, far more than enough to qualify for the Board of Directors and be President. The Salary is the highest and the duties of office consist mostly in signing my name and furnishing entertainment for the visiting firewomen. Wallah, none of them needs more entertainment if you are once available to everyone of them.”
“You don’t happen to have anyone working in your stenographic department by the name of Al Qāsim, do you?”
“This one is a girl about twenty eight or twenty nine, long legged, slim waisted, heavy plump big buttocks perfectly round, firm, immensely beautiful, with steady, slate gray eyes, fine blonde hair, and…”
“Stop it!” Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī groaned, “You are making me jealous of the girl.”
“You know her?” I asked insistently.
“Allah, no! Why are you so interested in her? You have more beautiful girls crowding around you already.”
“If you have to do quite a bit of entertaining you perhaps have a list of young women who can be called in as partners, as you provide me to your female stockholders.”
Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī smiled.
“For you? Sure. You have infinite sexual lust for us beautiful Musalmān houseladies. The more you fuck us the more you lust to fuck us. Incredible, yet true. I need them to satisfy you sexually. Yes. I haven’t another option to keep you in order. Have I?”
Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī chuckled.
“Perhaps this girl’s name and address are in your little green notebook. Perhaps she is available for dinner dates, or a dancing partner?”
“Could be.” Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī teased me.
“You don’t remember her?”
“Even if I remember her, I am not crazy enough to tell you. I’m enjoying you myself very much and I don’t want you to leave me in the middle to fuck her.”
Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī smiled.
“If you know of any way to get in touch with Al Nādir Al Ghāzī, you’d better go to work on that angle.”
Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī looked glum.
“And in the meantime,” I went on, “you’d better investigate your own organization and see if you can’t find who filed those new proxies.”
“I’d give a lot to know that one,” Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī said, “It looks to me that someone is double crossing us.”
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī licked my Uncut Hindu Lund passionately after kissing it on its head.
She could not help it.
Al Muħammad Al Ghāzī never allowed her even to kiss his penis.
“If you ever do it, I’d divorcé you immediately.”
Al Muħammad Al Ghāzī said it so gravely that Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī could never even dare.
That’s why Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī initially approached me.
“I tell you again, Durgesh,” Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī said, “that son of mine is after creating some deep trouble.”
“In Modern Democratic Årabia?”
“In Modern Democratic Årabia, in Pakistan, in PoK, everywhere.”
“Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and her Seven Movements can take care of that appropriately, Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī, don’t worry.” I continued to play with her beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān head.
She had golden hair.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī was exactly her true copy.
All feminine, noting masculine almost.
He hated even coupling.
Instead, he loved to lick the pussies and female ass even.
Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb left him due to it.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār also left him due to it.
Nevertheless, ultimately, Al Nādir Al Ghāzī had found a girl that loved her pussy and her ass licked by her filthy rich Musalmān husband.
Āmnah Azhar was his new wife.
The damnfool had married Āmnah Azhar without confirming his divorcé with Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb even now.
“Āmnah Azhar has the loveliest Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt that I’ve ever licked, ever seen even.” He had said to Al Jihad Al Vaqār proudly, “Moreover, her ass is even more beautiful than Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb.”
“Are you crazy?” Al Jihad Al Vaqār had laughed, “You married Āmnah Azhar only so that you can lick her loveliest Musalmān pussy and loveliest Musalmān ass?”
“Why not? What’s wrong in that?”*
Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās could not understand what the hell she should do after all.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī proved to be useless.
The impotent wanted only to lick her Cunt and her beautiful gorgeous plump Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass.
He could not understand a girl needed more from a man.
Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās was on alimony.
But Al Nādir Al Ghāzī was fighting even to get that alimony reduced.
She had been married twice.
The first time was simply tragic.
The second time Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās was more cautious.
Even then, it didn’t work all right.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī was wealthy.
That was one thing that helped.
Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās had made up her mind she’d never marry again.
Yet then he came along.
He had money and well, Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās married him.
Nevertheless, the marriage broke up and she was getting alimony.
One thousand dollars a week.
Sixty thousand INR.
Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās was married to Al Nādir Al Ghāzī five years and during that time Al Nādir Al Ghāzī made a lot of his money.
And now he was going into court trying to do something about her alimony, trying to get it reduced.
Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās read the advertisement once again.
‘ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS REWARD:
If the parties who were changing a tire on an automobile at the intersection of Saåīdah Kħān Br’j Sadānā Avenue and Jahān Ārā Xatrsāl Drive, at five o’clock on the afternoon of the third, will communicate with the HLMCh Times, and give a description sufficient to identify the green Mercedes that was speeding West on Jahān Ārā Xatrsāl Drive and crashed into the Māruti going south on Saåīdah Kħān Br’j Sadānā Avenue, they will receive one hundred dollars cash. Bystanders think the young woman in this parked car jotted down the license number of the speeding Mercedes but left the scene before the ambulance arrived. Any information from anyone leading to an identification of this hit and run driver will result in the prompt payment of one hundred dollars. Address all communications HLMCh Times, Box 786.’
Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās smiled.
She re-read her own response to the advertisement she had herself prepared on her own PC:
The party whose aid you are requesting in your ad in this Morning’s HLMCh Times will never get in touch with you voluntarily.
Nevertheless, I’m interested in fair play.
I think every good citizen must be.
I hate hit and run drivers.
Everyone must I think if s/he is a responsible human being.
I feel it’s my humanitarian duty to provide you following information:
At the time of that accident yesterday afternoon at the intersection of Saåīdah Kħān Br’j Sadānā Avenue and Jahān Ārā Xatrsāl Drive, Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās and a man had just finished changing a tire on Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās’s Mercedes. Unfortunately, I don’t know the name of the man with Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās.
This automobile was parked on the north side of Jahān Ārā Xatrsāl Drive immediately west of the intersection with Saåīdah Kħān Br’j Sadānā Avenue.
Ms. Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās saw the accident and with great presence of mind wrote down the license number of the Mercedes that was speeding away to the west on Jahān Ārā Xatrsāl Drive.
Later on, Ms. Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās told her companion what she had done.
The man become immensely grave immediately.
He explained to Ms. Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās that it would ruin him if it should be known he was with her.
Despite my best efforts, unfortunately I couldn’t succeed in finding the identity of her male companion.
Moreover, I couldn’t succeed in finding the reason he was afraid of having his identity known.
However, Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās is a very good friend of mine.
I know that this is a matter that’s bothering her conscience.
Under the circumstances, she cannot give you the information you wish, nor can she ever admit that she was anywhere near the scene of the accident.
Fortunately, she has entrusted me with a key to her apartment.
The address is 786, Bajirao Mastani apartments.
She lives in 786th apartment.
This is a big apartment house with an outer door.
Its latch can be released by tenants of any of the apartments by means of a button.
The key to any of the apartments in the house will fit the outer door.
I enclose a duplicate of my key.
If you use it and go to that apartment sometime between the hours of two o’clock and five o’clock in the afternoon, you won’t find anyone in the apartment.
There is a writing desk in the northeast corner of the sitting room.
If you will look in the upper right hand pigeonhole of that desk, you will find a leather backed notebook.
On the next to the last page of that notebook, you will find the license number of the automobile that you want.
After you have fully satisfied yourself that this is correct and have determined that this automobile is indeed you want, I will make arrangements to get in touch with you, redeem the key and will then expect to be reimbursed in the amount of the one hundred dollars that you’ve offered for a reward.
Very sincerely yours,
I found without difficulty the name ‘Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās’.
I wasn’t stupid enough to visit her as she proposed.
It might have been a trap.
The figure opposite the name was 786 all right.
There was a push button to the right and a speaking tube.
Instead of pushing the button, I tasted the key provided to me.
The advertisement was put in HLMCh Times by Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī.
Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās had responded to me unknowingly.
I fitted the key to the lock in the outer door and twisted it.
The lock immediately clicked back and the door opened.
I found myself in a lobby.
Several comfortable chairs had been placed invitingly in a warm symmetrical design.
There was a phone booth in a corner and an office.
It was separated by a counter from the rest of the lobby.
Back of this was a door marked ‘Manager’.
On the counter, there was a placard reading,
‘PRESS THIS BUTTON FOR THE MANAGER’.
I walked through the lobby into a corridor flanked with the doors of apartments.
The elevator was lighted.
It was a multi-story building and Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās evidently lived on the seventh.
I pushed the button on the automatic elevator.
When the lighted cage slid to a stop, I opened the door, got in, and pushed the button for the seventh floor.
Apartment 786 was toward the rear of the building.
I followed the doors back until I came to the one I wanted.
I pressed a bell button and waited.
There was no sound from within the apartment.
I tried my knuckles on the door.
Again, there was no response.
Surreptitiously, I inserted the key and twisted with thumb and forefinger.
The latch came smoothly back.
The door opened.
Through the open crack in the door, I could look through a living room into a bedroom lighted by an overhead electric light.
The bed had not been made and a feminine nightgown lay across it where it had been thrown.
I could hear the sound of water running in a bathroom.
I smiled, gently closed the door, removed the key, waited in the corridor for some two minutes, and then pressed the button again.
This time I heard sounds of motion and an ultra-melodious feminine voice on the other side of the door cooed,
“What is it, please?”
“Is this Miss Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās?”
“I want to talk with you. My name is Durgesh.”
The door opened a cautious crack.
I saw laughing, saucy blue eyes, wheat colored hair, and a hand holding a robe tightly at the neck.
Even, white teeth flashed in a smile,
“I’m sorry, Mr. Durgesh, but I’m not presentable. I’m just getting up. You’ll have to…to wait or come back.”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll wait,” I smiled.
“I’m afraid I don’t know you, Mr. Durgesh. I…”Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās looked me over from head to foot, then her eyes widened, “You’re not the Durgesh?”
I kept smiling politely.
“Perhaps you’d better say that I’m a Durgesh.”
She said incredibly,
“Honestly, Mr. Durgesh!”
I kept smiling politely.
There was a moment of silence, and then she said,
“Look, Mr. Durgesh, it will only take me a second or two to get into some clothes. Things are in sort of a mess, but if you’ll just step into the living room, please, and─ you can raise the shades and make yourself comfortable─ I’ll be with you in just a few seconds.”
“Or,” I said, “I can come back, and…”
“No, no, come on in and sit down. It’ll only take me a minute to make myself presentable.”
She held the door open.
I entered the living room.
“If you don’t mind raising the curtains, Mr. Durgesh, and─ well, just sit down and make yourself at home.”
“Thanks,” I told her.
She moved swiftly across the sitting room to the bedroom and closed the door.
I walked over to the windows, raised the shades, and let in the morning sunlight.
The apartment represented an incongruous, odd clash of the cheap and the costly.
A small but exquisite Oriental rug made the larger drab rug beside it seem hopelessly shoddy, inferior.
The furniture was for the most part expensive, comfortable and had been selected with taste.
Against the note of quiet luxury a few pieces of cheap furniture, their mediocrity emphasized by the aristocratic articles surrounding them, gave a jarring note.
On the table, an ashtray was still well filled with cigarette stubs.
Some of them had lipstick some did not.
Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās wasn’t as intelligent as to keep herself away from tobacco.
Well, there was a time when I myself smoked.
A small kitchenette disclosed an empty bottle of Scotch on the sink, a couple of glasses, and two empty soda bottles.
A magnificent antique walnut writing desk was over in the corner.
I walked over toward it confidently, inserted my fingers in the ornamental metal handle on the top of the door and pulled.
The desk was firmly locked.
I returned to a chair by the table in the center of the room.
I picked up an old magazine, settled myself, crossed my legs and waited.
I had to wait about five minutes.
Then the young woman came out of the bedroom wearing a housedress that looked simple and domestic, but which had carefully cut for showing various curves and contours.
She was wearing well-shaped shoes with medium high heels.
Her legs were smoothly stockinged and very visible.
“Sorry,” she smiled, “I’m not human in the morning until I’ve had my coffee. If you’ll pardon me, I’ll put a percolator on the stove. I suppose you’ve had breakfast.”
“You make me sound hopelessly lazy,” she laughed, “Nevertheless, how about a cup of coffee with me?”
“Oh, sure. It’s my pleasure to share at least something with such a remarkable beauty. I’m not stupid enough to lose the opportunity.”
“Thanks for the kind response. Actually, it’s my pleasure to have the utmost powerful man visit me.”
I pulled her to myself.
She didn’t resist even a moment and came to my lap immediately.
Her gorgeous, plump, big, heavy Musalmān buttocks filled my lap instantaneously.
My Uncut Hindu Prick saluted her ardent Musalmān beauty.
She kissed me on my lips and squeezed my penis meaningfully between her beautiful Musalmān buttocks.
She forgot her coffee.
She was enjoying better thing now.
It was evident soon; Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās needed me more than I needed her.
She herself was more aggressive.
And why not?
After all, Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās wasn’t living with her husband now.
Soon I was nude on my back and Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās was nude straddling me.
She had kissed my Uncut Hindu Prick, licked it and then sucked it hungrily.
I’d kissed her beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt myself.
I’d kissed her beautiful buttocks even.
She positioned my Uncut Hindu Prick between her quivering pink labial lips and thrust herself.
I filled her entirely immediately.
“Thank you,” Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās whispered.
“You are most welcome, my dear,”
“I’ve dreamed to have you inside me as soon as I knew you loved to fuck us beautiful Musalmān houseladies.”
“You are flattering me,”
“Allah, no. Never. I mean it. We beautiful Musalmān houseladies ourselves are crazy to fuck you, Durgesh. Believe it or not.”
“I believe you.”
“Thank you. Am I more animal with you than a human being?”
“It’s all right. I love female aggressiveness in sex.”
“I’m more ravenous than usual?”
“So what?” I winked at her lewdly, “That gives me more pleasure. Doesn’t it? It satisfy my male ego more.”
Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās kissed me on my lips fiercely, fucking me more vigorously.
“Hey, none of my ladyfriends told me ever you are so wonderful person.”
“You have numerous ladyfriends?”
“Sure,” Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās smiled teasingly, “and they are very beautiful.”
“Aren’t they jealous of you?”
“You are yourself immensely beautiful.”
“Thank you. Now I know why we ravenous Musalmān houseladies are crazy to fuck you. You flatter your women immensely.”
“I’m sorry to give that impression. I’m not flattering you. I’m telling you the truth.”
She kept fucking me wildly.
“This boy is sixty five years old, Ma’am,”
“It is more a matter of pride for us young Musalmān houseladies.”
“If an immensely inexperienced young boy lusts for us we can understand. He is new to sexual pleasures. Yet, when a man like as utmost experienced as you are has as infinite lust for us as you do have, it satisfies our female ego beyond belief. It is an irrevocable scale how immensely beautiful we are. It’s genuine. Your flattery for us can be managed to act but never the incredible immense lust I’m feeling, experiencing, constantly increasing even with every sensual penetration. ”
“Well,” I smiled cunningly, “I think, young lady, perhaps we are made for each other.”
“Sure?” Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās looked into my eyes.
“What do you say?”
Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās smiled.
“You are incredibly wonderful. I can fuck you proudly until I do exist.”
“Because I have immense lust for you?”
“Despite you fuck immensely beautiful Musalmān houseladies 24x7x365, yes.”
“I’d never allow you to get up from my Uncut Hindu Lund,” I smiled impishly.
“Try to pull your Uncut Hindu Lund ever from my Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt,” Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās herself challenged me.
She laughed too.
“Nice apartment you have here,” I played with her beautiful pink Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān buttocks.
She kept fucking me indebted.
“It’s large,” Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās said, “and I get the morning sun. The building is marvelous, very convenient. I have lots of elbowroom and there is a private garage that goes with the apartment. That’s more than someone would have in a modern apartment.”
“That’s right,” I smiled.
“Enjoying?” she looked into my eyes once again.
“Make yourself too at home,”
“Your Uncut Hindu Lund has already made himself at home,” she smiled cunningly, “Hasn’t he?”
“Oh sure, I’m honored. I’d never anticipated I’d be welcomed here so much.”
“Hey, you deserve it, nonsense!”
“I’m honored by this visit. However I still don’t know why Lillah have you honored me?”
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
The June morning dawned bright and warm.
It was a beautiful day for a wedding.
I had set my alarm for 6 a.m.
My criminal minded, ever anti Hindu, ever anti humanity, ever communal Pseudo Musalmān stepson, Al Nādir Al Ghāzī, was getting married today.
Despite Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī’s every effort, she could not make her ever-stupid son to see the changing environment of the globe.
He wasn’t ever a member of any terrorist group, nevertheless he never found anything irreligious in any of that anti justice anti human organizations.
Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī decided not to marry him ever until he isn’t human at least somewhat.
Nevertheless, Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī’s scheme again backfired.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār loved Al Nādir Al Ghāzī, as he was himself now.
“You do understand he can join any terrorist group anytime,” Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī told Al Jihad Al Vaqār curtly, “Don’t you?”
“I doubt it, Ammī.” Al Jihad Al Vaqār cooed, “Al Nādir Al Ghāzī didn’t join them when it was easier for the Pseudo Musalmīn terrorists to survive and succeed. Now, Narendr Modī is in power in India. Have you forgotten what Narendr Modī did in Gujarat with these bloody Pseudo Musalmīn terrorists?”*
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī smiled confidently.
The bloody Alkuffār.
Everyone is thinking Islam has lost forever.
Hindutv is in power now.
Not Narendr Modī.
No doubt, the Hindu scoundrel is lucky.
Every effort to kill Narendr Modī has backfired till now, without any exception.
There are millions of Musalmīn.
How many of them the Hindus can arrest?
How many of them the Hindus can hang till they don’t die?
He had proposed to kill Nawaz Sharif in India, at least, if not Narendr Modī.
However, none listened to Al Nādir Al Ghāzī.
They think Al Nādir Al Ghāzī is stupid.
Allah Ålīmun Kħabīrun!
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī sat at the wheel of the marvelous green seat of his Station Wagon.
The Indian Mujahidin are too afraid of Narendr Modī.
They think he is immortal now.
Nonsense, no one is immortal.
Let Al Nādir Al Ghāzī kill the root, Imām Muħammad Ħasan, first.
It was Imām Muħammad Ħasan, Nafīsah Salmān, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and her ever unashamed shameless Musalmān lady brigade that always protect Hindus.
They always betray Musalmīn.
The persons like Jāved Akħtar, Salīm, etcetera have surrendered to Hindus already.
It’s not important what they say.
They have to do it for their own survival.
Kalma-e-kufr is allowed in Islam to self survival if there isn’t another option.
Islam isn’t a dīn of stupidity, irrespective of what the foolish Al Kuffār say.*
I got out of the hotel bed, and walked into the bathroom to get showered before seven.
According to the plan of the bride and groom, each one would share a wedding day breakfast with the other’s parents.
In this case, it meant that Al Nādir Al Ghāzī’s bride-to-be, Al Jihad Al Vaqār, would be having breakfast, with me, in my hotel room, and Al Nādir Al Ghāzī would have breakfast with Al Jihad Al Vaqār’s parents, Al Jalāl Al Wahāb and Al Qahar Al Īmān.
I was grave for my criminal minded, ever anti Hindu, ever anti humanity, ever communal Pseudo Musalmān stepson.
He was marrying a great girl.
It didn’t hurt that she was beautiful from head to toe either.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār was a 26 year old interior decorator who’d met Al Nādir Al Ghāzī through mutual friends.
The attraction was immediate and after 2 years of courtship, he’d asked her to be his wife.
I slipped on a pair of loose fitting sweats and a casual t-shirt.
A knock on the door announced that room service was there.
The bellhop wheeled a cart in filled with different covered trays.
Quickly and quietly the bellhop set the table up for two.
I paid him a tip and he left.
I lifted the lids of each dish and found Belgian waffles under one, strawberries under another, a bowl of whipped cream, scrambled eggs on a plate, and sausages under another.
A carafe of coffee and a bottle of orange juice completed the meal.
I imagined Al Jihad Al Vaqār wouldn’t be too hungry, as is, having wedding day jitters.
But just in case, I’d made sure I ordered a good breakfast.
Promptly at 7 a.m., there was a knock on my hotel room door.
I answered it and there stood my knockout beautiful, soon to be ‘daughter in law’, Al Jihad Al Vaqār.
“Good morning, dad,” Al Jihad Al Vaqār said as she smiled, leaned in and kissed me on my cheek.
I invited her in and ushered her over to the table of waiting food.
I pulled her chair out for her as she sat down.
I took the chair across from her.
Like me, Al Jihad Al Vaqār was very casually dressed for this hour of the morning.
She wore a thick bathrobe under which she wore a short cream colored chemise with boy shorts.
“Would it bother you terribly if I took my robe off, dad?” Al Jihad Al Vaqār asked.
“Of course not Al Jihad Al Vaqār, get comfortable girl.” I replied.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār stood up and took the robe off.
She walked the robe over to the coat rack by the door and hung it there.
I was mesmerized as I watched her walk over to hang the robe up.
I’d never seen Al Jihad Al Vaqār in anything other than classy suits or blue jeans.
The chemise she wore was soft ivory and hung just below the cheeks of her excellent heavy plump luscious Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān butt.
Her legs were long and slender and she was very shapely.
When she turned and walked back towards the table, even I had to catch my breath.
The front of the chemise was cut low and rested on the top of her breasts that were full and filled out the front of the chemise.
I could actually see her beautiful nipples poking through the fabric.
She was one beautiful Musalmān woman I thought again.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār smiled as she sat down across from me.
She enjoyed a good relationship with her soon to be father in law.
I’d made her feel like part of the family from the start.
I razzed her just as much as I did Al Nādir Al Ghāzī and my 3 other Musalmān stepsons.
She’d always admired me.
She also found me very attractive.
Even far more attractive, far more romantic and far sexier than her soon to be husband was.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī was a handsome man, but he looked more like his mother than his father.
More feminine than masculine.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī’s hair was sandy brown like his mother’s, as well as having his mother’s green eyes.
My hair was a dark black, and I was not even starting to grey at my temples, as some men in my age did.
My eyes too were black and framed by spiky long lashes.
Even in my medium height, I stood a full 3 inches taller than my criminal minded, ever anti Hindu, ever anti humanity, ever communal Pseudo Musalmān stepson.
I stood up and started to remove the lids from the food.
“I didn’t know what you’d want, but I knew you liked Belgian waffles so I ordered them and all of this. I hope you’re hungry, young lady.” I smiled warmly at Al Jihad Al Vaqār. “Would you like me to make the bride a plate?”
Al Jihad Al Vaqār smiled back at me,
“Actually Dad, I am hungry, but my nerves are a little edgy. May we just sit and talk for a little bit before we eat? It will calm my nerves.”
“Sure hon'” I said, “C’mon, come sit on the bed and we’ll chat like friends.” I smiled.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār and I got comfortable on the bed.
I sat with my back against the headboard and Al Jihad Al Vaqār sat cross-legged in front of me.
“Is that better?” I asked.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār laughed at my friendly remark and said,
“This is fine, dad.”
She sat there looking at me and couldn’t explain the weird feeling coming over her.
I was sitting there smiling at her and she had this unexplainable urge to kiss me.
How incredible it was.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and her entire Jet Musalmān Beauties Squad always said,
“No beautiful woman, irrespective of her age, can ever resist Durgesh’s infinite masculine charms. Durgesh complains that no woman let him continue ever a platonic relationship with her. But how the hell can anyone? Durgesh has infinite Bhogchakr.”
Is it true?
Al Jihad Al Vaqār laughed.
She never believed in the ever ridiculous Bhogchakr theory of Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and her Musalmān lady brigade.
It was a nonsense.*
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī had parked his station wagon from the Iron Gate at the entrance of the massive Ashvinātam Masjid.
He kept an eye on the University young ladies and even mature Musalmān beautiful ladies going inside for Al Fajir mass.
It was the tenth and last day of their Ijlās.
If their quarry arrived today, as he had the previous nine mornings, the pattern was set.
They would place the dynamite in the tunnel beneath the street tonight.
They would detonate the explosives and assassinate their tremendously scorned enemy, Imām Muħammad Ħasan, the founder of HLMCIC.
Hindu Lund Musalmān Choot International Clubs.
Let the ever-democratic scoundrel go to hell.
Even if they couldn’t kill Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan the so called Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånahā reincarnated due to her immensely incredible black magic powers, they could kill at least her immensely respected Abbū, the devil incarnate,
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī peered at his wristwatch.
“You’d better go in now,” he said quietly to the young lady in the front seat beside him. “If the bastard is on schedule, he should be here in five minutes.”
“Do I have to?” Al Mujāhidah Al Ghāzī smiled devilishly, “What purpose? He’d never get to the damn Masjid, Ashvinātam Masjid, hunh, tomorrow morning.”
“For positive identification,” Al Nādir Al Ghāzī smiled cunningly, “They want to fuck our muqaddas, pious, Pāk, Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān ladies. Let them. Who the hell are more pious than the Mujāhidāt themselves? Hindu scoundrels, fuck Mujāhidāt and be damned. Our Mujāhidāt would keep you busy 24×7 in sex with them. They’d give birth to your Hindu sons who would be the Mujāhidīn next generation, as we are.”
“Imām Muħammad Ħasan has planned to expose us to the true Musalmīn, as he calls them.” Al Mujāhidah Al Ghāzī smiled sarcastically.
“True Musalmīn? Who support the ever coward Hindus?” Al Nādir Al Ghāzī smiled curtly.
“Now they are in power, don’t forget.”
“I won’t, ever,” Al Nādir Al Ghāzī said bitterly. “I want you to see him close up. We’ve got to be certain he is Al Saåīd Al Qādir, the deputy prime minister in charge of defense, and no other. Go ahead, Al Mujāhidah Al Ghāzī, it’s the last time.”
“Allah Ålīmun Kħabīrun,”
“Allah Ålīmun Kħabīrun,”
They never said, “Allah Ħāfiz,”
They always said, ‘Allah Ålīmun Kħabīrun’, instead.
It was their code somewhat even.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī was nineteen only, while Al Nādir Al Ghāzī was twenty nine already.
“Fa qatulū almusharikīn,” Al Nādir Al Ghāzī said.
“Ħaysu wajadttumūhum.” Al Mujāhidah Al Ghāzī said.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī watched her leave the car, cross over, and reach the landing below the massive Masjid door.
Al Mujāhidah Al Ghāzī fell in among other worshipers at the steps, climbing up and going inside the Masjid.*
Al Jihad Al Vaqār tried to dispel the thought from her mind, but it wouldn’t shake.
Even worse, her thoughts started getting more provocative about me.
I sat there a little thoughtful by the strange look on Al Jihad Al Vaqār’s face.
One moment she’d been smiling at me and now she was sitting there staring at me with this peculiar look.
“Al Jihad Al Vaqār, are you okay?” I said in a concerned voice.
As if in a daze, Al Jihad Al Vaqār got up on her knees and inched herself intimately close to me.
Without saying a word, she placed her extremely beautiful red crimson luscious Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān lips on mine and tenderly kissed me.
Inhaling she could take in my masculine Hindu scent and her kiss became a little more searching as her tongue pried its way between my lips.
Now I fully understood the weird look on Al Jihad Al Vaqār’s face, but what I didn’t understand was why in the hell was I returning her kiss?
She was about to marry my criminal minded, ever anti Hindu, ever anti humanity, ever communal Pseudo Musalmān stepson.
Oh how her mouth was warm sweet though.
I sucked her extremely beautiful red crimson luscious Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān lips in between mine while my hands began to explore what was under the chemise.
Right before my eyes, Al Jihad Al Vaqār raised the chemise above and over her head and threw it on the floor.
Her breasts were stunning.
My mouth watered just looking at them.
My hands reached out for them and I grasped and caressed them.
No words were spoken as passion overtook the both of us.
We both knew what our actions were leading up to, but as if possessed by a hunger we couldn’t explain we didn’t stop.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār, only in her boy shorts straddled My lap and began to kiss me again.
Our kiss was hungry and passionate.
My cock was hard and I could feel it pressing against Al Jihad Al Vaqār’s pussy.
I grabbed a hand full of her excellent heavy plump luscious Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass and pulled her even closer to me as we kissed.
Pushing myself away from the headboard, I laid Al Jihad Al Vaqār down in front of me.
Staring at her sexy body, I removed my t-shirt and stripped my sweats off.
My Uncut Hindu Cock was long, thick and very erect as my sweats came off.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār started to slide her boy shorts down, when I took over and slid them completely off for her.
Smiling at her, I bowed my head down and inhaled her excellent young smart Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Pussy.
It was warm and musky.
Easing myself down between her legs, I spread them apart.
Her excellent young smart Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Pussy was beautifully shaven.
Wrapping my mouth fully over it, I kissed it passionately.
My lips ravaged her.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār’s excellent young smart Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān buttocks bucked under me and her hands pressed my head deeper into her excellent young smart Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Pussy.
“Yes, Durgesh, kiss me, kiss me there.” Al Jihad Al Vaqār huskily whispered.
I drove Al Jihad Al Vaqār wild when I kissed across her clit.
I loved this.
At this moment, I did not care that Al Jihad Al Vaqār was about to marry my criminal minded, ever anti Hindu, ever anti humanity, ever communal Pseudo Musalmān stepson.
She had chosen to allow me this privilege and I sure as hell wasn’t going to pass it up.
Let the anti-human Pseudo Musalmān terrorist suffer, even if he was my stepson.
Let him get punished.
I knew once with me, Al Jihad Al Vaqār would never return to Al Nādir Al Ghāzī completely.
She could never forget the immense sexual bliss she would get from me.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī couldn’t give its ten percent even.
Pressing my head hard against her excellent young smart Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Pussy, Al Jihad Al Vaqār felt herself about to cum.
Her orgasm overtook her and spread through her entire body.
I had already stopped doing what I was doing.
As her orgasm subsided, I kissed her clit once more and then got up on top of her.
Kneeing her legs open a bit more, I positioned my ultra-hard Uncut Hindu Cock and then drove it deep inside Al Jihad Al Vaqār.
Her excellent young Musalmān body bucked and we both moaned loudly.
With an ardent intensity, I began to work my Uncut Hindu Cock in and out of her silky Musalmān pussy.
All the while, Al Jihad Al Vaqār moaned loudly and called out my name.
It was a good thing that her parent’s room, was on another floor of the hotel.
Anyone walking by the room would have clearly heard what was going on inside.
Her calling out my name only turned me on more and I worked my Uncut Hindu Cock even harder pounding into her.
Getting up on my knees, I flipped Al Jihad Al Vaqār’s legs over my shoulders and proceeded to drive deeper and deeper into her tight Musalmān pussy.
Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā, she felt so good to me.
I knew I could cum at any moment, but I wouldn’t allow myself as I suspected this moment could never happen again.
With that thought in mind, I gave it all I could working my Uncut Hindu Cock in and out, my balls slapping against Al Jihad Al Vaqār’s beautiful Musalmān ass.
Grunting with each thrust, I watched the ecstasy etched all over Al Jihad Al Vaqār’s beautiful young Musalmān face.
I loved knowing I was the one giving her this pleasure.
As much as I detested my criminal minded, ever anti Hindu, ever anti humanity, ever communal Pseudo Musalmān stepson, I wanted to make sure that nobody ever fucked Al Jihad Al Vaqār as well as I was at this moment.
I wanted her to remember this.
“Yes darling! Is this what you want?” I said out of breath.
“Allah, Måshā Allah, Subħān Allah, yes,” Al Jihad Al Vaqār breathlessly replied. “I want you to cum into me, dad, sorry, not dad now, Durgesh darling, my actual husband from now on!”
“That’s right. What the hell do you think? I want to cuckold your terrorist stepson to both of us. And Wallāh, I promise to do it. Let him clean my Musalmān Cunt licking it, after you fuck me.”
I didn’t say anything as to its response.
I dropped Al Jihad Al Vaqār’s legs off of my shoulders and laid down on her.
Kissing her very lovingly, I rhythmically began to slide my Uncut Hindu Cock back and forth until I felt my orgasm began to build up and finally explode.
A loud guttural cry escaped from my lips as My body froze and I emptied my Hindu seed into Al Jihad Al Vaqār’s fertile Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān womb.
“Thank you darlin'” I said, as I smiled and kissed Al Jihad Al Vaqār afterward. “You’re something else, you beautiful woman. My stepson is a lucky man.”
No more words were said as we got up, enjoyed a shower together and then ate breakfast leisurely.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār got dressed again, and slipped off to her room to prepare for her wedding day.
No one smiled more, at the wedding, than the bride and the father of the groom that day.
About a year later, I could only smile when people told me how much my 3 month old namesake grandson looked like me.
There would be more in the line.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam