Al Yāsīn Al Furqān smiled eloquently.
“Do you really think you are not breaking your ever sincere Musalmān friends’ home?”
“What do you mean?”
Al Zakiyah Al Shabbīr watched Al Yāsīn Al Furqān gravely.
“I think I should divorce Muħammad Nasīr.”
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān laughed.
“Only because you want to fuck Durgesh and your husband, Muħammad Nasīr is Durgesh’s ever sincere ever faithful friend?”
Al Zakiyah Al Shabbīr said scornfully.
“The Hindu scoundrel not only calls me ‘Bhābhījān’, he thinks I’m really his Bhābhījān as well.”
“And you don’t like it?” Al Yāsīn Al Furqān smiled significantly teasing her friend.
“Durgesh has something in his personality that impels every beautiful Musalmān houselady to fuck him.”
“I agree with you.” Al Ůzrah Al Raħīm seconded Al Zakiyah Al Shabbīr, “My Bhābhījān Al Jawériyah Al Kħālid grabbed his Uncut Hindu Lund shamelessly.”
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān smiled.
“Your Bhābhījān, Al Jawériyah Al Kħālid, is not actually after Durgesh. She is after Durgesh’s multi zillions.”
Al Zakiyah Al Shabbīr also laughed.
“Al Yāsīn Al Furqān is right, Al Ůzrah Al Raħīm.”
Al Ůzrah Al Raħīm smiled.
“May be. Who claims to be a plaster saint? Maybe I too want his money as well.”
“The bloody slut,” Al Zakiyah Al Shabbīr charged Al Ůzrah Al Raħīm laughing sarcastically.
Al Ůzrah Al Raħīm winked at Al Zakiyah Al Shabbīr.
“My Bhābhījān Al Jawériyah Al Kħālid is as cunning as she is beautiful. She has already talked with my brother, Al Åbbās Al Raħīm.”
“What????” Al Yāsīn Al Furqān and Al Zakiyah Al Shabbīr both jumped on it.*
I shouted into the quiet house.
I let the front door close behind me as I dropped my backpack next to my suitcase. “Hello?”
The voice came from behind me was a woman’s and was at the same time strange and familiar.
Turning around, I saw a blonde blur before I was almost bowled over by a person about a head shorter than I was.
I felt slim but strong arms wrap around her chest and smelled a familiar scent of strawberries.
Al Kulsoom Al Zahīr Bhābhījān.
There was a great sense of calm that I felt at my friend’s Bhābhījān’s arms around me.
Al Kulsoom Al Zahīr Bhābhījān loved me even more than her real devar, her real brother in law, Al Bakr Al Qamar.
Not only Al Kulsoom Al Zahīr Bhābhījān, her husband, Asshams Addīn Al Qmar, too loved me more than his own younger brother, Al Bakr Al Qamar.
Al Bakr Al Qamar, my friend, had never appreciated his elder brother’s involvement in Al Fataħ Al Islam.
I had been away from them for a full 8 months without coming their home and didn’t realize how much they missed me until then.
I glanced down to confirm my suspicions and indeed saw a blonde head resting against my chest.
With a smile, I took Al Kulsoom Al Zahīr by the shoulders and pushed her back to examine her.
“See I’ve got a Bhābhījān,” I said with a smile. “But you are waayyyy blonder than she is!”
Al Kulsoom Al Zahīr smiled back and gave her hair a little flip.
“Do you like it, Durgesh?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but was momentarily lost for words.
It wasn’t the hair that struck me dumb, but Al Kulsoom Al Zahīr Bhābhījān herself.
When I had left in September, Al Kulsoom Al Zahīr had been growing into understanding my relationship with her husband, still awkwardly trying to find herself in her new family.
She was recently married then.
Yet over the last few months, she had grown into an amazing smart woman.
I had seen pictures from her Wedding Day that had hinted at her extraordinary Musalmān beauty, but to behold her now, I was speechless.
Gone were the braces and glasses with scraggly hair and instead was a perfect smile set against soft, smooth Musalmān skin.
Her now blonde hair fell gracefully onto her shoulders, resting on the blue tank top she wore.
The fabric hugged her excellent Musalmān body, her excellent Musalmān breasts perfectly round and pushing on the straps.
Her beautiful Musalmān legs were bare, her hips and ass tucked into a pair of jean shorts that left little to the imagination.
My breath was taken away as I beheld the young Musalmān woman before me.
Asshams Addīn Al Qmar had divorced his another Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān wife.
Al Kulsoom Al Zahīr Bhābhījān was his new option.
“Bhāījān can’t behave human with any of his wife,” Al Bakr Al Qamar had said miserably, “He is unable to understand he is sixty seven now.”
“Well,” I smiled, “I am myself sixty five yet your own real younger sister, Al Tihārat Attawaħīd, left her far younger Musalmān husband for me. Didn’t she?”
Al Bakr Al Qamar looked at me gravely.
“I’m sorry to disagree with you, Durgesh. I have already said you it’s a quite different matter. That bastard Allahdād never deserved Al Tihārat Attawaħīd.”
“How cruel you are, Al Bakr Al Qamar.” I said dejected, “Allahdād is a marvelous man. Al Tihārat Attawaħīd actually loved me since her childhood even. Allahdād told us that. But we never listened to him. Even I said Al Tihārat Attawaħīd is only twenty eight and I was sixty plus. Al Tihārat Attawaħīd opposed. Yet all of us compelled her virtually to marry Allahdād despite her opposition.”*
Al Kulsoom Al Zahīr asked again.
“Seriously do you like it? I’m starting to feel self-conscious.”
“No!” I said quickly. “It looks great.”
Al Kulsoom Al Zahīr smiled and gave me another big hug.
“I’m glad you’re home. I’ve really missed you.”
As she turned and walked away, I couldn’t help but watch the gentle sway of Al Kulsoom Al Zahīr Bhābhījān’s excellent, perfect, firm, round, plump, Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass as she sauntered off.
I was distracted enough that I stood there for a few minutes after, painfully aware of how hard my Uncut Hindu Lund had gotten looking at Al Kulsoom Al Zahīr Bhābhījān.
Eīshāno Vishvvedasah, why did I feel Al Kulsoom Al Zahīr Bhābhījān was deliberately seducing me.
I certainly must be less overconfident.
Every beautiful Musalmān wife that has been divorced by Asshams Addīn Al Qmar Bhāījān, had asked me to live in Relationship with her, without even a single exception, sooner or later.
It has made me quite overconfident.
Hell, I should try to keep my platonic relationship with her.
Sure, I never succeeded in keeping my platonic relationship with even a single woman except my own Ammī Ħuzūr until now.
Nevertheless, it doesn’t mean I should stop even to try sincerely for it.
I have virtually infinite beautiful Musalmān houseladies to satisfy my lust for them.
Carrying my bags upstairs, I tossed them onto my bed and made my way back downstairs.
Hearing the TV in the den, I followed the sound to find Al Kulsoom Al Zahīr Bhābhījān sprawled on the couch watching some show about housewives of some city.
Pretending not to see her, I went and started to sit on her stomach.
“Hey! Cut it out!” Al Kulsoom Al Zahīr Bhābhījān said with a laugh.
“Oh sorry,” I said with mock sincerity. “Didn’t see you there.”
Al Kulsoom Al Zahīr Bhābhījān slapped my shoulder and sat up. “Scoundrel.”
“Oh you know it,” I laughed, settling into the couch. “Where are Bhāījān Ammī and Abbū?”
Al Kulsoom Al Zahīr Bhābhījān watched me carefully.
She knew her Ammī in law was too herself fucking me despite my protests.
“You still call her ‘Ammī’?” Al Kulsoom Al Zahīr Bhābhījān asked incredulously.
“I can’t help it, Bhābhījān,” I said helplessly, “Neither I can accept her, nor reject.”
“You really believe she is suffering from low blood pressure and can’t afford a ‘No’ from you?”
“What do you yourself think?”
“Ammī in law loves to straddle you.” Al Kulsoom Al Zahīr Bhābhījān said scornfully, “Abbū never let her straddle himself. She is punishing Abbū in this way openly feigning low blood pressure. Poor Abbū. Your Bhāījān says his Ammī is an over dominant extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī hypocrite Musalmān bitch.”
“I know, I know.” I tried to change her favorite topic, “I asked where the hell they have gone.”
Al Kulsoom Al Zahīr Bhābhījān laughed.
“Yeah they didn’t tell you. One of their friends had a deal or something like that so they are on vacation for another week.”
“And they left you alone?”
“I’m 28 now and a married woman, thanks,” Al Kulsoom Al Zahīr Bhābhījān said, rolling her eyes. “I’m not a little kid myself.”
“That’s right. I’m sorry. No, you aren’t a little kid.”
Al Kulsoom Al Zahīr Bhābhījān rested her head on her ‘devar’s’, her ‘brother’s in law’ shoulder.
“I’ve really missed you. It isn’t the same not having you around the house.”
Almost instinctually, I wrapped my arm around her, resting my palm on the side of her stomach.
I pulled her close to me, feeling the warmth of her excellent Musalmān body as she tucked her beautiful Musalmān legs under her and snuggled even closer into me.
I felt the slow rise and fall of her chest as she lay against me and to me, nothing else in the world Mattered at that moment.
It was great to enjoy a platonic relationship with a woman as understanding as Al Kulsoom Al Zahīr Bhābhījān.*
Her mind wandered frequently.
Often in ways Al Taqaddus Al Islam did not intend, or want.
Al Taqaddus Al Islam did not know if Al Taqaddus Al Islam was unique or not, but on occasion, Al Taqaddus Al Islam found herself thinking about things that society deemed highly inappropriate.
These things involved the Anant Muslimātchod Hindu, Durgesh.
When Al Taqaddus Al Islam allowed herself to explore inappropriate fantasies, Al Taqaddus Al Islam used do so with the strong belief that those were only fantasies.
Al Taqaddus Al Islam would never actually act upon them.
Further, Al Taqaddus Al Islam was comforted by the belief that in the real world, in which Al Taqaddus Al Islam lived, Al Taqaddus Al Islam knew Al Taqaddus Al Islam would not be tempted to act out any of these perverse desires that haunted her subconscious.
Because Al Taqaddus Al Islam believed, Al Taqaddus Al Islam would never actually be placed in a situation that would allow her to act inappropriately with the Anant Muslimātchod Hindu every Musalmān hated so much.
On the other hand, did every Musalmān really?
Coming to think of it gravely, well, perhaps none else except the Anant Muslimātchod Hindu, Durgesh, himself, was more popular ever in the entire Ummat-e-Muslimah.
Allah, how the hell these Hindus can manage it always?
Not only Durgesh, now even Narendr Modī is becoming immensely popular among Ummat-e-Muslimah.
She could not believe it.
Not many days ago, they hated Narendr Modī immensely.
They believed Narendr Modī let Hindus rape Muslimāt openly.
In Gujarat, there isn’t any Muslimah that isn’t compelled to have sex with a Hindu, whether she liked it or not.
If her Musalmān mankind come in the way they are punished suitably or even murdered if didn’t yield even then.
They blackened Narendr Modī immensely.
Because Narendr Modī was their political opponent only?
Shame on the bloody immoral politicians.
And they shamelessly claim they brought Democracy.
Let Allah perish them to hell for ever.
It was an unexpected and unplanned set of events that led her to the most heinous sin, and her demise.
It was an avalanche of emotions associated with her father’s unexpected illness and his imminent death.
Al Taqaddus Al Islam made the unwise decision to drink with the Anant Muslimātchod Hindu to alleviate her sense of loss, despite Durgesh himself tried to keep her in her senses and not to surrender to drinking.
It might thrust her into the unusual situation.
And it did.
Al Taqaddus Al Islam was forced to share a hotel room with the Anant Muslimātchod Hindu.
That combined to drive her to cross a line that Al Taqaddus Al Islam never intended to cross.
Al Taqaddus Al Islam never expected or intended to do the things that Al Taqaddus Al Islam did.
Al Taqaddus Al Islam was not proud of what Al Taqaddus Al Islam did at first.
Nevertheless, this is what she did nonetheless.
Al Taqaddus Al Islam was sitting at her desk when Al Taqaddus Al Islam received the call from her stepmother.
Her Abbū, Imām Salāħuddīn, had a stroke.
Abbū, Imām Salāħuddīn, was in very serious condition and was not expected to live long.
Lailatul Qadr told her, that if Al Taqaddus Al Islam wanted to see him alive again, Al Taqaddus Al Islam should make haste and get to Santa Fe, New Mexico.
Al Taqaddus Al Islam was numb.
Although, it had been over a year since Al Taqaddus Al Islam had seen Abbū, Imām Salāħuddīn, Al Taqaddus Al Islam spoke with him at least once a week, often more frequently.
He and Al Taqaddus Al Islam were close.
Of course, objectively speaking, Al Taqaddus Al Islam knew that he was eventually going to die.
They all do.
However, he had been healthy and vibrant the last time Al Taqaddus Al Islam saw him.
Al Taqaddus Al Islam did not expect a call like this for many, many years.
Al Taqaddus Al Islam was in a great shock and really did not know how to respond.
Al Taqaddus Al Islam arranged to pick up Durgesh, the Anant Muslimātchod Hindu, at his office and then headed home to pack for the trip.
After all, Durgesh was the man her every sister was living in Relationship with now.
Al Taqaddus Al Islam couldn’t believe it, even now.
First of all, her Ammī, the great Professor of Islam, Al Azān Assalāt, left her Abbū, Imām Salāħuddīn, then one by one her Abbū’s entire beautiful Musalmān houseladies started to join my bed despite every effort from everyone to convince them not to do it.
“Why are you humiliating us Musalmīn, Bājī?” Al Taqaddus Al Islam had pleaded with her elder sister, Al Zakāt Al Islam.
“Do you really care to understand?” Her elder sister, Al Zakāt Al Islam, thundered at her, “You? Didn’t you comment on Ammī immensely irresponsibly? You said she surrendered to her animal sexual needs? I hate you. You forgot even the fact she is your Ammī after all?”
I was a few weeks past my 65th birthday.
Despite her entire complaints even, Al Taqaddus Al Islam and I had been very close since her husband and Al Taqaddus Al Islam separated nearly a decade earlier.
We had a bond and an emotional closeness that is difficult to express in words.
We packed quickly and left our home shortly after lunch for a multi-day journey to see her Abbū, Imām Salāħuddīn, before it was too late.
It was after 1:00 p.m. when Al Taqaddus Al Islam and I headed out of Ved Nagar in her Mercedes on our trek.
Abbū, Imām Salāħuddīn, and Lailatul Qadr, her stepmother, had retired to Santa Fe years ago and it was quite a trip from Ved Nagar to see them.
Ved Nagar was the strange City, in her opinion, that had on earth spots common with most of the places important.
How the hell Ved Nagar administration managed it ever she never understood.
It would take us three full days of driving.
Al Taqaddus Al Islam and I would share the driving.
I advised her airways, but she refused on the ground that she never felt comfortable in airplane when she isn’t herself.
I had to surrender.
After all, it was her problem, not mine.
I was there only to help her.
After all, despite her every outbursts against her Musalmān houseladies she still wasn’t against me.
Al Taqaddus Al Islam never blamed me for it.
She always blamed her Ammī, her sisters, her cousins, her Kħālās, her Buās, her Mumānīs, etc.
As we drove, we talked about her Abbū, Imām Salāħuddīn, her family, and her closeness with me despite everything against there.
Al Taqaddus Al Islam cried sometimes and sometimes laughed.
In her emotionally needy state, Al Taqaddus Al Islam felt even closer to me than usual.
At the time, it did not feel wrong to lean on me the way Al Taqaddus Al Islam did.
In fact, our closeness seemed natural and appropriate.
It was almost 9 p.m. when we pulled off the road for the night outside St. Louis, looking for a place to spend the night.
Since the trip was completely unplanned, we did not have reservations.
We went to three different motels before finding one with vacancies.
A Holiday Inn Express that did not have any rooms with two queen beds, only rooms with single king beds.
Even they didn’t have two separate rooms available, despite we offered extra charge for them.
As Al Taqaddus Al Islam was traveling with me, this presented an awkward situation.
However, we were both exhausted and were far too tired to get back on the road and continue to look for a more suitable sleeping arrangement.
Al Taqaddus Al Islam and I agreed we could share a king size bed tonight under these circumstances.
Al Taqaddus Al Islam bought a bottle of a precious wine from the store in the lobby, thinking that Al Taqaddus Al Islam could use a little help getting to sleep tonight.
I warned her not to have it.
Yet, it was futile entirely.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Looking at me, Al Yāsīn Al Furqān couldn’t help but take in the sight.
My still miraculously excellent Hindu male body, so slim and fit.
Even while I was sleeping, my muscles seemed to ripple.
I slept atop the blankets so there wasn’t much left to the imagination.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān tried to resist my unique legendary ever unconquerable Hindu masculine charms but it was impossible not to – I was right there in her living room!
Such a thing of exquisiteness, Al Yāsīn Al Furqān thought as she admired me.
She just couldn’t help herself – Al Yāsīn Al Furqān was too herself a human after all.
Slinking closer for a better look, Al Yāsīn Al Furqān was disappointed that this was the last day Al Yāsīn Al Furqān could admire me.
Having me stay with her all the week had been good for her.
She had needed the company.
Her thoughts went back to the last night’s dream.
It was so vivid that her mind was still fuzzy.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān had woken up horny and all Al Yāsīn Al Furqān wanted was a better look.
She figured there was no harm in a better look, it’s still just a looking.
A board creaked under her feet as she approached the futon.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān gulped hard, pausing.
Thankfully, I was still sleeping soundly.
My heavy breathing continued to come in a sleepy rhythm.
Such a handsome ever young Hindu man, Al Yāsīn Al Furqān mused.
Was Durgesh really sixty five?
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is right.
Durgesh is obsessed to fuck senior Musalmān houseladies that are incredibly beautiful.
That’s why even Just Eighteen Just Adult Musalmān young ladies are immensely crazy to fuck Durgesh themselves almost without even any single exception.
No living Musalmān houselady can ever resist the Durgesh temptation.
Durgesh has infinite masculine charms.
I’ll just take a closer look.
At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.
It had been so long, and that dream had left her in such a state.
Masturbating had only made her condition worse.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān hasn’t had a dream like it in years.
Just a look wasn’t going to hurt anything.
“Just a peek,” Al Yāsīn Al Furqān told herself under her breath in reassurance.
Her heart raced wildly now, Al Yāsīn Al Furqān could barely breathe.
“Close enough now.”
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān watched silently as it twitched inside its silky covering.
The fabric strained against my size.
I murmured something in my sleep and she froze.
My breathing had not changed.
She breathed another sigh of relief, sliding closer still.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān could make out the shape.
It was a long thick Hindu shaft with a large mushroom head.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān admired it.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān admired me.
Instinctually, Al Yāsīn Al Furqān reached for it.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān was simply mesmerized, holding her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān hand millimeters away.
It pulsed wildly through the fabric as if reaching out for her.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān chuckled to herself as Al Yāsīn Al Furqān watched its struggle.
Ever so lightly, Al Yāsīn Al Furqān traced its outline through the fabric.
Reminiscing, Al Yāsīn Al Furqān compared it to the one Al Yāsīn Al Furqān had seen in the past.
It was so much bigger, it seemed unreal.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān wanted to touch it, to see if it felt as big as it looked.
Just a light touch won’t hurt anything, he’ll never know, Al Yāsīn Al Furqān reasoned as it strained against the fabric.
Gently resting her beautiful ardent Musalmān hand on my Hindu shaft, Al Yāsīn Al Furqān monitored my breathing carefully.
Thankfully there was no change.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān would just rest her hand on it lightly, just hold it briefly.
It had been so long since Al Yāsīn Al Furqān had held a man’s cock.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān could feel my heat, my pulse.
More memories flooded her mind.
She began to feel warm. Knowing this was wrong, she lingered longer than Al Yāsīn Al Furqān had intended.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān wanted more, she needed more.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān was herself irresistible.
They all stared at Al Yāsīn Al Furqān.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān was incredibly voluptuous herself.
Even in burkā they fantasized of her always.
The burkā was an added attraction always, instead of being any obstacle and a protection to her.
If Durgesh had an ever irresistible unique legendary Hindu masculine charm, Musalmān houseladies themselves had their ever irresistible Musalmān feminine charms too.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān herself had her ever irresistible Musalmān feminine charms too.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān had noticed the way I had been staring at her all week.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān saw how my Hindu masculine eyes would shift to her ever beautiful ever erect ever proud Musalmān boobs when I didn’t think Al Yāsīn Al Furqān was looking.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān had even caught me checking her out, entirely unashamed of myself, on multiple occasions.
That was too Durgesh’s individual approach to a beautiful Musalmān houselady.
Durgesh was never ashamed of his open admiration of the beauty of any Musalmān houselady.
It made the Musalmān houseladies crazy for Durgesh.
Even if the Musalmān houseladies were related to Durgesh’s Musalmān friends, Durgesh never hesitated in admiring their Musalmān beauty.
He always successfully devised this or that way to admire their immense Musalmān beauty openly.
“Ammī, Abbū is too possessive of you.”
“What?” the Musalmān houselady, even if she is Durgesh’s friend’s Ammī, was naturally immensely pleased for Durgesh’s comment.
It pleased even Durgesh’s friend’s Abbū and he thanked Durgesh even silently with his eyes instead of being angry for declaring his open interest in his wife’s Musalmān beauty.
Even Durgesh’s Musalmān friend is grateful to Durgesh for bringing his parents closer.
Was Durgesh really bringing their parents closer or telling their Musalmān friends’ Ammī, ‘I want to fuck you, Sālī?’
And the Ammī is pleased declaring she doesn’t have any objection whatsoever.
Even if it’s a momentary reaction from her, it breaks the platonic wall between her and Durgesh.
Her brain registers Durgesh not as her son’s friend, her male admirer of her Musalmān beauty instead.
Her subconscious accepts Durgesh as her Hindu lover whether she realizes it or not, whether her Musalmān husband, son, anyone, realizes it or not.
Her subsequent advances to Durgesh are actually based on this immensely ignorable trivial event.
It’s never trivial.
It’s never ignorable.
It’s the first step of their ultimate intimacy in future.
The persons all concerned are damn fools if they never realize it.
If instead of his friend’s Ammī, his sisters are there, Durgesh is more protective to them than even their real brother.
It brings them closer to Durgesh than their real brother even.
And as Durgesh isn’t their real brother, it’s natural for them to imagine Durgesh as their lover, instead of their brother’s friend only.
Their subconscious does it, they don’t consciously even.
Then unknowingly, or even knowingly, they want to keep their immensely precious male possession, trying their best never to lose it.
That’s why even if they were married to someone else, their subconscious always compared their Musalmān husband with Durgesh.
Durgesh being the ever best husband for every woman, it’s natural their Musalmān husband always loses to Durgesh.
That’s why sooner or later they offered themselves to Durgesh, not as his Musalmān friends’ sisters but Durgesh’s new Musalmān wives instead.
That’s what happened always with the beautiful Musalmān houseladies of Durgesh’s Musalmān friends even.
Durgesh almost never proposed to them.
They themselves even imposed them on Durgesh and blackmailed him to fuck them.
Their subconscious never accepted to lose the ever sincere male protection Durgesh ever sincerely provided to them selflessly.
Even their Musalmān husbands lost to Durgesh always without any single exception because they were never as selfless, never as sincere, as Durgesh ever was.
They lost to Durgesh always because they were not a better human being as Durgesh was ever.
It’s natural for a woman’s subconscious not to lose ever a more sincere more honest male companion.
None can stop a scientific process to take place ever.
The best someone can is only delay it.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān could feel my gaze on her beautiful Musalmān ass when I walked behind her.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān wondered if I was dreaming of her.
Feeling confident that I was sleeping soundly, Al Yāsīn Al Furqān smiled to herself and decided to give me something to dream about.
Slowly and carefully, Al Yāsīn Al Furqān slid her pinky finger through my fly.
She listened carefully, making sure my breathing hadn’t changed.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān could now feel the soft, smooth flesh of my unique legendary Uncut Hindu Cock.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān released a long low breath.
Oh, so soft, Al Yāsīn Al Furqān remembered as Al Yāsīn Al Furqān ran her delicate Musalmān finger along the soft flesh of my unique legendary Uncut Hindu Cock.
So soft, and so big!
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān could feel a vein as she pet my supple Hindu flesh with her Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān finger.
My breathing picked up, but I was still sleeping.
Feeling bolder and consumed by her female Musalmān lust Al Yāsīn Al Furqān tenderly, carefully, unfastened the ivory buttons of my boxers.
The flap slipped open with ease.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān slipped her entire hand through the flap.
She just wanted to feel my unique legendary utmost experienced Uncut Hindu Lund.
It’s ok to feel it as long as Durgesh doesn’t know, he’ll never know, Al Yāsīn Al Furqān reasoned to herself.
Her heart was pounding and Al Yāsīn Al Furqān was practically shaking with adrenaline.
She felt the rush of excitement consuming her.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān monitored my breathing again, but there was no change.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān wrapped her palm around my Hindu shaft and marveled at its size!
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān couldn’t even get her palm completely around it!
She lightly traced its outline, her small hand stopping at the head trying to gauge its girth.*
I let out a sigh, and she froze and contemplated running.
My unique legendary Uncut Hindu Cock pulsed wildly against her grip.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān listened closely.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān could hear her own heart pounding but my breathing had not changed.
I was still asleep.
She felt weak in the knees.
Lust filled and emboldened, Al Yāsīn Al Furqān could no longer stop herself.
Bit by bit, gently, she pried the monster from its silky confines.
It dwarfed her hand and pulsed in the open air.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān admired it in all its magnificence.
It was perfect!
She fingered the light blue veins running along its underside.
Its large helmet-shaped head saluted her.
Such a sound sleeper, Al Yāsīn Al Furqān thought as Al Yāsīn Al Furqān leaned in to take a closer view.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān could smell my musky Hindu scent.
Inhaling deeply, more memories flood her mind.
It’s been such a long time.
She needs this; Al Yāsīn Al Furqān has needed this for a while.
Holding me and lightly stroking my yielding Hindu flesh, Al Yāsīn Al Furqān felt warm all over.
Her nipples strained against the light fabric of her nightgown.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān fondled my Hindu testicles and they rolled around beneath her touch.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān was overwhelmed by the feelings Al Yāsīn Al Furqān had not felt in such a very long time.
Her second hand joined the first.
She paused to listen but my breathing had not changed.
She no longer cared if it did.
My Hindu length was so massive!
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān stroked me more aggressively and I moaned in my sleep.
Her heart felt like it was going to explode.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān could hear her own excited breathing as she increased her grip, knowing Al Yāsīn Al Furqān could wake me any second.
Her heart was racing wildly.
My head was too big for her grip. She opened her hand and ran her fingers over the tip, sticky pre-cum clings to a fingertip.
She pulled her finger away and the sticky Hindu fluids string from the Hindu male tip to her delicate Musalmān finger.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān stuck her finger in her beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān mouthbecause Al Yāsīn Al Furqān had to taste me.
It had to have been the largest unique legendary Uncut Hindu Cock Al Yāsīn Al Furqān had ever seen.
Thick and long, Al Yāsīn Al Furqān couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like inside her.
Lust had completely taken over.
She needed more, had to have more.
Slowly and with excited breaths, Al Yāsīn Al Furqān moved closer.
It was pulsing wildly just inches from her beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān face.
My male Hindu scent was overpowering.
She blew warm female Musalmān breath against it.
It pulsed, as if answering a silent call.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān watched my face, so peaceful.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān turned her head and gave me a long slow lick.
I moaned another low moan.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān smirked at the dream I must be having, and missing the real beautiful truth.
Truth is stranger than fiction.
She embraced the familiar taste before blowing another warm breath on my moistened Hindu manhood.
One more lick and I’ll stop,
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān reasoned with herself.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān felt dizzy.
Realizing Al Yāsīn Al Furqān had crossed the line, Al Yāsīn Al Furqān licked my enormous Hindu manhood.
She pulled her night gown over her head, tweaking her nipple and rubbing her ravenous Musalmān clit through her moistened panties.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān hissed at the much needed pleasure.
Her grip returned to the base of my unique legendary Uncut Hindu Cock and Al Yāsīn Al Furqān slowly stroked me.
I shifted my body but still slept soundly.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān leaned in to blow another hot breath but Al Yāsīn Al Furqān couldn’t help herself.
Will it fit?
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān wondered.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān leaned closer and sucked gently on the head of my unique legendary Uncut Hindu Cock.
It reminded her of a large warm plum.
She opened as wide as Al Yāsīn Al Furqān could, taking the entire head into her beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān mouth.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān sucked gently and flicked her tongue across the bottom of my head.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān smirked as a low moan escaped my lips again.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān flicked her tongue along my head again and worked more of it in, stroking me with her hand as she did.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān lightly sucked and looked at my face.
I was no longer sleeping.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān sucked harder and attempted to stuff as much of me in her beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān mouth as Al Yāsīn Al Furqān could.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān gagged, pulling back up and sucking hard, Al Yāsīn Al Furqān was on a mission.
Her hand was working feverishly on my lower shaft.
She examined my face again.
My eyes were wide and I was staring at the ceiling.
She didn’t even care.
“Ahhhhh…..” is all I said in a helpless voice.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān sucked harder and increased her grip.
I ran my fingers through her hair.
“Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā! God, Al Yāsīn Al Furqān, that feels amazing!”
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān attempted to work my Hindu length down her Musalmān throat, adjusting the angle of her head to fight the gag reflex.
After several attempts, Al Yāsīn Al Furqān felt her throat stretch and her nose is inches from my pubic hair.
“Ohhhhhh!” I moaned.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān grinned and released my unique legendary Uncut Hindu Cock with a loud plop.
It pulsed wildly and Al Yāsīn Al Furqān watched her saliva trickled down its length.
She panted and attempted to catch her breath.
Our eyes met and a look of surprise traveled across my face.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān smirked to herself and resumed her assault on my gargantuan unique legendary Uncut Hindu Cock.
I moaned in approval as she deep throated me.
“Ohhhhh……. Eīshān, God!” I shifted on the futon.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān cupped my balls.
Gagging a bit, Al Yāsīn Al Furqān adjusted and sucked harder.
Loud slurping noises mixed with grunts were emanating from her throat as Al Yāsīn Al Furqān mouth fucked me.
Her carnal instincts had completely taken over.
“Ohhh……. Eīshān, God…….!” was all I said.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān could feel my load building and pulled off, panting as Al Yāsīn Al Furqān caught her breath.
“You have a fantastic unique legendary Uncut Hindu Cock Durgesh!” Al Yāsīn Al Furqān said with labored breath, saliva cascading from my unique legendary Uncut Hindu Cock to her beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān mouth.
She used it to lubricate her strokes and began sucking and flicking the soft underside of my unique legendary Uncut Hindu Cock again.
I lifted my hips and began humping her beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān mouth.
Experience told her I was getting very close.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān tightened her grip and stroked harder and faster.
Her arm was beginning to hurt right as I started to tense up and gasp.
“Ahhhh….ohhhhhhhh……” Al Yāsīn Al Furqān felt the first Hindu burst hit the back of her grateful Musalmān throat.
That was followed by a second, a third, a fourth.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān gagged at the quantity.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān couldn’t swallow it all fast enough.
Gasping for air, she opened her beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān mouth and a cum saliva unique legendary Uncut Hindu Cocktail ran down my Hindu shaft.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān stroked me a few more strokes before licking me clean.
I stared at the ceiling, exhausted and dumbfounded.
“Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā! Oh my God!” I said again.
I still have it, Al Yāsīn Al Furqān smiled to herself.
Al Yāsīn Al Furqān looked up to her best lady Musalmān friend’s Hindu husband.
“I’m not your wife, Durgesh.”
“That felt amazing, Al Yāsīn Al Furqān! I must certainly thank you very much. But why so stealthily, darling? You are honoring me, not disgracing ever.”
“Please, call me by name, ‘Al Yāsīn Al Furqān’. Not Bhābhījān any more. I am not exactly your Bhābhījān. I’m only your Musalmān friend’s Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān wife. You’ve got a nice unique legendary Uncut Hindu Cock, Durgesh. And as to your question ‘why so stealthily’, they say you are ever over moral. I have some extremely beautiful lady Musalmān friends that say you never accepted them only because they are your ever sincere Musalmān friends’ Panjvaqtah Namāzī ever faithful Musalmān wives.” Al Yāsīn Al Furqān told me in a sincere voice as Al Yāsīn Al Furqān fondled my withering Hindu member. “Al Yāsīn Al Furqān is a very lucky girl.”
“Should I break my ever sincere Musalmān friends’ home?” I asked gravely.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam