Gotrbhid Mahā Bhārat
Shūdrasý tu Savarñaiv Nānyā Bhāryā vidhīyaté
‘Jāti Pānti Poochhé Nahin Koī,
Hari ko bhajé so Hari kā Hoī’
1/18: Ādi Parv
A few moments passed, and I began the awkward process of helping her off the table.
My member slipped from her lips and she automatically clinched herself in response, seemingly missing my presence.
She smiled again, and this time I saw it.
I grinned back.
She was more propped by me than anything, and I helped her over to the living room, where we both collapsed onto the sofa.
I kissed her softly but repeatedly at her cheek and lips, and she managed a few kisses in return.
Arundhatī Joshī and I didn’t really talk.
We just quietly recovered together.
Eventually, she told me she had to go on to bed.
We both climbed the stairs together.
At the top of the stairs, we faced each other.
It was dark.
It was quiet.
I brought her into my arms, and we embraced.
I could feel her exhale completely in my arms and press into me.
She could feel my strong arms wrap and cuddle her.
She eased back from me.
She had to go to her bedroom.
I looked down at her, and her face started to mine.
Our lips met and neither held back.
We kissed deeply.
When we finally parted, we both smiled to one another.
We said goodnight.*
Arundhatī Joshī awoke groggily.
She struggled to orient, as she could sense something was happening to her.
She started understanding there was a rocking motion in the bed.
Even though at first she was dazed, she realized there was movement at her vagina.
She felt sex there.
Was she dreaming?
She almost spoke my name, but she then gathered that she was in her own bed and in her room.
She searched for her bearings.
As she thought and looked around, it hit her.
She was on her side and the pushing was coming from behind her.
It was Vinod Sharmā.
It was Saturday morning, and Vinod Sharmā had entered her and was having sex with her.
Arundhatī Joshī fought the initial impulse to stop him.
Then, she worried inwardly for a response.
She was shocked and just speechless.
As she started to speak over her shoulder to Vinod Sharmā, she heard him grunt heavily.
He stiffened and she knew instantly what this meant.
He climaxed intensely.
He had gotten off strongly, she concluded.
But, she found herself much less than thrilled.
Right away, she felt guilty knowing why she wasn’t thrilled.
First, it was because it had mostly happened unbeknownst to her.
Mostly though, there was a guilt.
It wasn’t I there with her, nor the excitement she felt for me.
Vinod Sharmā stroked at her hair.
“Wow. That was great.”
She didn’t move or speak.
His voice had been shaky before.
Vinod Sharmā caught his breath and tried to compose himself better.
He had not acted as he intended.
He awoke with an erection, and he immediately had become concerned about keeping it.
It wasn’t her fault, but he simply did not feel the attraction or desire that he once had for her years ago.
He had felt to her first, thinking he’d stimulate her awake, and then he had touched wetness at her lips.
He had thought her already aroused.
When he had put himself to her to rub her, he had pushed on into her and started.
“I got carried away.” He tried to explain.
She just nodded back without words spoken.
Vinod Sharmā cuddled her, and he brushed at her hair.
“You are a beautiful and special woman.” he resolved to make things better even if it meant getting some kind of prescription. “I may not always show it, but I do appreciate you.”
Arundhatī Joshī was absolutely stunned.
She reached a hand over her shoulder to him and squeezed at him.
He started breathing heavier and in moments he was snoring.
Arundhatī Joshī‘s mind started reeling.
As much as she hated to think it, she knew she wished he hadn’t said those things.
Could he sense she was drifting away from him?
Is this why on this morning, of all times, he had decided to share like that with her.
He never did that.
When she was sure he was sleeping again, she slipped from the bed.
She went downstairs to make coffee, have a cup and clear her head.
What a weekend.
In a hungover and emotional fog, Arundhatī Joshī rummaged about in the kitchen, made coffee and sat down with a cup.
It was hard to know where to begin with sorting this out.
A couple of things she was certain about.
First, she was crazy and stupid to permit what had happened with me.
There was no understating just how wrong and unintelligent her choices had been.
But just as clear to her was how she felt.
She felt deeply and convincingly emotional for me and excited by me.
Any number of thoughts, from Friday night’s party to Saturday morning to Saturday night, showed her how much she cared about me.
As she sat there, she knew she felt such a love for me.
She squeezed her eyes and released them at her next thought, as she regretted just how truly she also felt about me as a man.
From her looking to me when we kissed Friday night to when she first surrendered to me in bed Saturday morning, there was no denying that she thought of me now as a man.
And, as so very wrong as it was, she thought of me as a lover.
I had brought feelings and sensations from within her she could not ever having remembered felt.
I aroused her, thrilled her, and consumed her.
Our time together and the way I had been with her had combined to make her feel something she had never felt to this extent.
The feeling included intense desire.
I made her feel that she wanted me badly and needed me.
And not just emotionally, but she needed to feel me physically and to make love to me.
Arundhatī Joshī felt at her core a need to give herself to me.
She had not ever felt this way.
She briefly wondered whether she didn’t need to just break away from both of the men in the house and try to ascertain her thoughts more objectively.
The things she was thinking were so unusual and extraordinary that perhaps she just needed time.
She smirked wondering if she even wanted to be away from me in order to decide.
Arundhatī Joshī looked up startled from her thoughts, seeing me pop into the kitchen.
She beamed when she saw how very happy I was to see her there.
She couldn’t help but show how happy she was to see me too.
“Good morning,” she said it in a low full voice.
Her face glowed.
I came straight up to where she was sitting, and I bent to where I could hug her.
I kissed her deeply and passionately.
After some passionate deep kissing, she pulled back.
“Wait, wait.” She stopped me.
I was standing next to where she was seated and I was very aroused.
I started dragging at my shorts, and she gave quick shakes of her head, indicating ‘no’.
It didn’t slow me in the least.
My hand drew my penis from my shorts in front of her face, and when she realized just what I was doing, she visibly tightened.
“Wait Durgesh, I don’t know. We should talk.”
I figured she was just acting coy, much like the night before.
I held my thick Bachhalyā erection in her face.
“No, not right now, Durgesh,” she said it pleadingly, conveying perhaps that the choice was mine.
I grinned down at her, and she gave me a torn look back.
She dropped her view to my hand.
I was fully engorged and there at her face.
There was a wanton aspect of it being right in front of her like that.
I edged my fist just a bit up and then just barely back, and she watched intently.
Her face didn’t move to avoid me, but her eyes looked back to me questioningly.
“Aw, c’mon.” My tone made her seem unfair. “Are you serious? Are you going to leave me this way?”
My hand tilted her face to me and I bent and kissed her again.
She watched my face as I stood back straight, and I told her,
I brought my cock in my hand and I put it to her lips.
Once more she tried to pull back, but I cradled her cheek and lodged its Bachhalyā thickness at her Joshī Brāhmañ lips. … She opened her beautiful Joshī Brāhmañ mouth to me while looking in my Bachhalyā male eyes.
She reluctantly started to suck on me and move her head.
She felt my combined hardness and smoothness, and she started to react between her legs.
After a few more moments, the dynamic shifted.
It went from my urging to instead her moving her mouth on me.
Her head swayed and her mouth and lips massaged at my thick Bachhalyā cock.
We both knew she was getting more into it.
Much more into it.
‘How can I be this excited again? Is this really because of me?’ She asked herself as she felt both our urgency.
Soon I was groaning continuously, and she was humming.
Naughtily, Arundhatī Joshī anticipated what it’d feel like when I started releasing into her mouth.
She drifted a hand between her legs and started feverishly stroking there.
“WHAT?” The word is screamed and Arundhatī Joshī cannot understand at first what has happened.
She saw Vinod Sharmā standing with his face flushed and eyes wide.
“WHAT THE FUCK?” “WH… .”
She yanked her head back and I started frantically trying to pull my shorts up.
“Wait, wait, wait,” I was desperately saying to Vinod Sharmā, and everything seemed to slow down to Arundhatī Joshī as it unfolded.
It was almost as if she were witnessing something she was not actually present at.
The sequence was deliberate and surreal.
Vinod Sharmā grabbed his head with both hands and screamed.
He looked over to the counter where the kitchen knives were at, and then looked straight at me.
I shouted, “No, no, no,” as Vinod Sharmā started lunging to where the knives were.
Suddenly, I moved toward the counter, too.
Before I can take a second step though, I froze in place.
My stopping in place riveted Arundhatī Joshī‘s attention back to Vinod Sharmā.
Vinod Sharmā had reached the counter, but unnaturally he ricocheted off the counter and collapsed to the floor.
When he laid out on the floor, he was staring straight up and he was clutching the left side of his chest.
He coughed and choked, and just as suddenly as he had started, hd completely stopped.
Then, he lay there motionless.
“CALL 911! CALL 911!” Arundhatī Joshī heard me shouting it, but she couldn’t move.
She saw his eyes, and she knew he was gone.
She also knew she would never, ever get that sight of him, and what she had caused, out of her mind.
The next several days blurred by, and she could barely function, rarely talked, and just felt deadened to an extent.
The authorities did inquire, and she told the truth.
Of course, it all made sense.
She and Vinod Sharmā had had sex earlier that morning, and they had drank most of the weekend.
She didn’t see it coming, and she absolutely couldn’t believe he died of a massive heart attack on their kitchen floor.
Everyone felt sympathy for her.
Everyone saw that she was beside herself, apparently from such grief.
She had told the truth alright, but she didn’t tell the whole truth.
There was nothing asked about she and me.
There was nothing to ask since everyone knew we were friends, and both had suddenly lost Vinod Sharmā.
So, there was no mention made of the fact that Vinod Sharmā had heard strange sounds coming from the kitchen that morning.
It was never told how he hurried down the stairs, already concerned as he feared someone must have been hurt from the kind of sounds he was hearing.
He had rushed into the doorway of the kitchen, and it had been as if he had struck a horrible wall that stopped him in his tracks.
There he saw his wife and me.
At first, I looked like I wasn’t the matter, because I was standing straight and seemed animated.
Everything changed when he focused to where his wife was seated at our kitchen table.
She was sitting facing our table and angled to where Vinod Sharmā was standing, but Arundhatī Joshī‘s shoulders and face was turned to her left side.
Her right hand appeared to be in her lap, and her right hand was clasping at something.
Positioned very close to her left side was my torso and waist.
Vinod Sharmā had fixed his attention to his beautiful wife’s face.
Her mouth was open and her lips wrapped a thick and erect ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund that was pumping urgently between her Joshī Brāhmañ lips.
One look was all it took to show Arundhatī Joshī was moving her face towards me as fervently as my hips were bucking into her face.
Her expression was one of exquisite pleasure.
There was an onslaught of friends and family around in the days between Vinod Sharmā’s death and his funeral.
Everyone was very supportive.
The entire time passed as a flash to Arundhatī Joshī.
Then, just as suddenly as the friends and family had gathered, it seemed they quickly dispersed.
By the time of the evening after Vinod Sharmā’s funeral, the house had cleared out.
The house was still and quiet, and Arundhatī Joshī and I decided we had to go have dinner to decompress.
Arundhatī Joshī did most of the talking.
She spoke in a detached and halting manner, as if trying to explain to herself and to me.
I heard beneath her words a desperate coping of sorts.
“It was a lapse to be sure, a horrible and terrible lapse, but a lapse.” She had sounded scared but also as if warming to her justification as well.
She sat close to me and spoke quietly.
“No one meant for him to die. …”
I considered whether maybe it was just a way for her to carry on.
I tried my best to assure her.
Neither of us had wanted this or even imagined this.
It was a horrible, horrible accident.
That night after dinner, we returned home, and we both decided to turn in early.
We found ourselves standing upstairs in the hallway awkwardly starting to say goodnight.
She looked at me directly and asked evenly,
“Why don’t you stay with me tonight?”
I looked a little surprised and even tentative.
“Um, I don’t know. Are you sure?”
She gave a couple of quick nods of her head.
And with that, I ambled into her bedroom with her.
I felt an unsteadiness with the day that we had endured.
I saw her go into the bathroom, and I decided I’d just be present and go with however she felt.
I stripped to my boxers and I climbed into the bed.
I was lying there, bare chested and sitting propped up somewhat when she came out of the bathroom.
She saw me there in bed, and she stopped.
We looked at each other, and I wondered whether maybe I had misunderstood and somehow shouldn’t be there after all.
I found myself very concerned.
“Uh, is this okay?” My voice sounded very worried and doubtful, and Arundhatī Joshī relaxed her face into a smile.
She moved slowly to the bed in a night shirt that covered almost to her knees.
“Yes. Yes, it is.” She ran a hand through her hair, and she got into bed and to my surprise she curled up next to me.
“I am so glad you are here. I need you tonight.”
I kissed the top of her head which she had put at my chest, and I stroked at her hair.
“I’m glad you want me here.”
“Listen, I know this is weird. It is.” She moved a hand to my chest and her fingers drew circles on my bare flesh there. “But I want you to understand. I’m feeling so very fragile right now, you know?”
“Yeah, sure.” My voice was low.
“I’m sure you are too.” She kept her fingers at my skin.
“Yeah, I am. I guess I’m still numb.”
“Me too. Very.” She sounded like she was about to cry as she squeezed out her next words. “I just hope you don’t hate me.”
I immediately reached to her face and opened it to me.
She had lines of tears that had started and the eyes of someone utterly unguarded.
“Hey, hey, hey,” I consoled in as calming a voice as I could muster, “don’t even think that. Not for a second. I wouldn’t ever hate you. I couldn’t ever hate you.”
I went to her face and kissed her fully.
I pulled her into a hug to my chest.
She hugged me back.
We kept our embrace and she eased back with me as my torso had to go back for support, our position at first too strained to keep.
We ended up with her half over onto me.
She put a hand on my chest and looked into my eyes.
“I love you, Durgesh.”
I didn’t hesitate.
“I love you, too.”
When I said it, her face perked and I saw her eyes dart about my face, but mostly at my eyes and mouth.
She drew a breath and then she leaned to me, kissing me gently but fully on my lips.
I kissed back, but when she didn’t pull away, I was a little surprised that she was being affectionate this way.
I was awestruck when she used her lips to open mine, and she moved her tongue to mine.
She kissed me passionately, and it was completely unexpected by me.
The feel of her lips and tongue, together with her increasing movements at my mouth, stirred me against all better judgment.
I just couldn’t help it.
As we continued kissing, she shifted to try to get better positioned atop me, and when her leg moved over my waist, she felt a certain, unmistakable hardness.
She broke our kiss, but didn’t move far from my face with hers.
She continued her leg on over me, but rather than just lay against me, she moved her entire body astride me.
She stared into my face as I watched her lower to my waist.
I tried hard not to react when I felt her at my skin.
Because she was sitting higher up on me from our kissing, her crotch met my skin at my stomach.
It was obvious by the feel of her that she wasn’t wearing anything under the night shirt.
She shifted just a bit, and then I felt the slightly prickly stick of pubic hair and the unique slickness of her natural moisture.
She moved her hips barely, and I wondered if it was intended to make sure I felt her dampness.
She seemed to watch for a reaction from me, but I didn’t reveal one.
“I am feeling so raw right now.” She said it in a loud whisper and it sounded dramatic.
Her feet seemed to tuck closer to my sides where she was straddling me, and she raised herself on her arms that went to each side of my head.
She closed her eyes briefly and then half opened them.
“Is it okay if I tell you I need you right now?” She still whispered.
I nodded slowly and noticed her full lips staying parted.
Her half closed eyes and slightly opened lips finally conveyed to me that she was actually very aroused.
She may have meant emotionally she needed me, but it didn’t seem like that was all, I now understood.
I reached up to her arms and I moved them to my chest, where each of her hands came to rest up on my skin.
She closed her eyes again and I watched her gulp.
She opened them to see my eyes as she shifted her weight onto her left hand at my chest.
She lifted the right hand and she brought it down our bodies between us.
When her hand reached my boxers and deftly entered inside, my face no longer stayed expressionless.
I furrowed my brow and gave a wince, as she took me engorged into the opening between us.
She opened her mouth wide as if to react with me and she made the slightest of grins, knowing she had affected me so.
Then, she looked at me intently as she said more.
“Two things.” She breathed the words.
My reply was fast. “Yes!”
She stared deep into me and spoke her request slowly and seriously. “I want you inside me, and… I want you to keep your eyes with mine. Okay?”
She backed downward toward me, and we kept fixed on one another.
She held me steady between us as she placed her hips where she wanted them.
When my head mashed to her lips, we both shook.
“AH!” I exclaimed as I felt her rotate her hips.
Our eyes stayed, and there was an intensity to it that surprised me and excited me, seeing her every reaction and expression.
Poised there, she surprised me yet again when she reached to her shirt and shed it off herself, exposing her breasts and hardened nipples to me.
My hands immediately went to them and clutched them, as I watched her own eyes almost close shut with the sensation of my hands squeezing and manipulating her full bare flesh.
I still marveled at her large, thick nipples, but I felt them and rubbed them rather than look to them.
When she started moving again, her face changed expression from a stillness to more and more emotion and contortion, as she was forcing herself down on me.
She fought to keep her eyes to mine, and I saw how she showed the change she felt as I went deeper into her.
Her eyes widened and her mouth formed a silent ‘oh’ as she wiggled herself and pushed.
I struggled to keep my eyes on hers, as she rested her weight on her hands on my chest but moved her hips more and more.
She was getting more used to me, and it enabled her to get more into it.
She was raising and lowering herself, and each time her face reacted in some way to the sensations inside her.
She squatted more onto me and her head tilted back somewhat, but her eyes stayed level with mine.
Her eye brows arched and her face expressed what looked like pain when she went even further down on me.
She felt a plunging of me into her that filled her fully.
“UUUUNNNNNGHHHHHHH! Ungh, ungh, ungh!” She was loud with her grunting coming from within her throat.
I started to buck with my hips but didn’t.
I wanted to see what she would do on her own.
“C’mon,” I urged her on.
She made an inner squealing-kind of sound at my prompting her like I was, and I grinned at her.
She drew her lips together, batted her eyes and then sucked in a breath, as she appeared to ready herself for different motion.
I kept her full breasts in my hands and squeezed up, mashing them to her and evoking a pant from her.
She brought her head just down and looked at me as if she were boiling, and I felt her hips jerk.
I grunted my own reaction when I felt her beginning a back and forth sway with her hips.
The feeling was so different and unexpected that I arched my back and wondered if I’d explode just from that.
She saw she had affected me strongly and it incited her.
She furrowed her brow, grew intense with her stare to me, and she picked up her pace.
I was astonished.
She was working her hips back and forth with my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund buried deeply in her, and she was panting with her effort.
Arundhatī Joshī was riding me.
Her hips bucked at me hungrily.
I moaned at her exertion.
My getting overwhelmed thrilled her, and she tried to go even harder on me.
We were both getting louder with throaty noises back and forth.
There was no doubt to either of us now that she was full on fucking me.
She kept her pace, but she eased backward some, giving herself more of my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund inside her, and this was all it took.
Her Joshī Brāhmañ thrusts on me and her willingness to sit down on my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund while she was riding me together shoved me over the edge.
“AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” I screamed and shook with an orgasm that washed over me with repeated contractions. “Fuck me, fuck me, FUCK me, Arundhatī Joshī!!!”
As my face looked frantic and delirious to her with my extended climax, she felt herself succumb and come with as much intensity as she could ever remember having had before.
Her mouth fell open, and her bottom lip quivered, as she felt my kicking and releasing together with her own spasms deep within her.
We both panted and tried to catch our breath.
She eased forward and lower upon me, softly collapsing, and as she did, her full breasts met my still heaving chest and pressed me.
She brought her lips to mine, and we again kissed for a while.
Soon, her head rested at my chest, and we both lay spent.
Arundhatī Joshī was still straddling me, and I was still halfway enmeshed into her.
“That was unreal.” My voice was low and disbelieving. “You were so… good.”
“I loved it.”
She traced a finger around one of my nipples as she pondered a moment.
Then, she moved her head a bit to see me as she said softly her thought.
I grinned back.
“I will fuck you whenever you want, Durgesh.”
I grinned even more and kissed at the top of her head.
She put her head back to my chest.
“I mean it.”
We stayed in a heap for several more moments before we finally thought to move again.
I had to go to the bathroom, and we very carefully disengaged from one another.
She watched me get out of bed, and as I walked towards the bathroom, she couldn’t resist staring at me.
Even flaccid, I hung down between my legs heavily, and it swayed with my steps.
I turned back and caught her looking, and she smiled sheepishly.
When she turned onto her back, her thighs rubbed, and the clear sensation of wetness was coated where both of our juices had gone onto her thighs.
She self-consciously reached there, and she felt about.
She couldn’t help but wonder how much of it was me.
She withdrew her hand as I came back to bed and to her.
We wrapped into each other, and while she started to talk to me more, I was soon snoring away. She sighed and smiled to herself and let herself drift to sleep as well.
The next morning the two of us quietly and somberly prepared, and went to see the lawyer.
There wasn’t much said or really to be said.
As we traveled to the office, Arundhatī Joshī thought over again how she had answered what was asked of her by others.
She had essentially answered the truth asked of her, but she carried that weight of the whole story.
I and Arundhatī Joshī knew the whole truth, and that was more intimate knowledge we both shared with each other and no one else.
We both sat together listening to Vinod Sharmā’s friend and lawyer.
During the meeting with the lawyer, I tried to act friendly and talkative, but it was as if Arundhatī Joshī was still dysfunctional.
She was quiet and still numb, it seemed.
She did muster one reaction though.
There was an emotional outburst that was part laugh and part sob at a disclosure the lawyer made to the both of us.
The lawyer described it professionally and gently, but there was the sense that I had hoped the revelation would provide whatever comfort that it could.
The lawyer was meeting with us to talk about Vinod Sharmā’s estate.
There were several details to cover.
But significantly, I wanted Arundhatī Joshī to know there was at least one thing she didn’t have to worry about any more.
Vinod Sharmā had left three separate life insurance policies, and Arundhatī Joshī was the sole beneficiary of all three policies.
Arundhatī Joshī was going to receive three million dollars.
There was only one condition however.
Arundhatī Joshī smiled and fulfilled the last wish of her husband.
That was what she herself was dying for.
Her late husband had actually gifted her everything she needed immensely.
Three million dollars and me.
Arundhatī Joshī never needed anything else.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Gotrbhid Mahā Bhārat
Shūdrasý tu Savarñaiv Nānyā Bhāryā vidhīyaté
‘Jāti Pānti Poochhé Nahin Koī,
Hari ko bhajé so Hari kā Hoī’
1/18: Ādi Parv
She drifted down to her knees.
She brought her hands to my jeans, and as she undid them and worked the zipper, she glanced back up to see the utter pleasant shock on my face.
She pulled my engorged Bachhalyā shaft from my jeans and the thickness again amazed her.
Her fist worked around me and she stroked at me.
She hadn’t felt this emboldened, or this invigorated, in years, she knew.
She glanced up.
“Do you want this?” Her voice was meek but clear.
“Yeah!” My response was quick and sure.
We both chuckled.
We both knew she was shocking me with this, but we both also knew she was liking doing this and being shocking.
She kissed my head again, and as I moaned and looked down at her, she opened her mouth wide, pushing it down over my head and to where several inches went into her extremely beautiful Joshī Brāhmañ mouth.
She started sucking at me fervently, with her small fist pumping away at my length.
Her cheeks were reacting with each stroke of me she made.
I wasn’t going to last long and we both knew it.
I gripped her hair in my hands, and I started showing that I was close.
I narrowed my eyes and my brow tensed.
A sudden familiar sound startled us both.
The grinding sound of the garage door sliding open reverberated.
She flashed a panicked look at me.
“Hey, hey, hey! That’s Vinod!” Arundhatī Joshī snapped.
Much to my pleasant shock again, she didn’t even slow.
She just kept looking back at me and pumping me into her mouth.
A car door slammed, yet my face never twisted even a bit with concern.
“We have to stop.” I urged.
The kitchen door opened downstairs and swung closed.
“Honey, I’m home.” Vinod Sharmā’s voice called out from downstairs.
Arundhatī Joshī still did not take me out of her mouth, and now I seemed to be pulling at her hair.
My eyes gave a look like I was surrendering to something within me.
We could both hear Vinod Sharmā at the foot of the stairs, and I spasmed violently, exploding into Arundhatī Joshī‘s mouth.
My body contorted and a third spray released.
Arundhatī Joshī gazed up at me with half-closed eyes.
Steps could be heard making their way up the staircase, and Arundhatī Joshī let my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund pop out of her extremely beautiful Joshī Brāhmañ mouth.
I worked my jeans up and started fastening them.
I looked at Arundhatī Joshī, and she looked unsteady on her feet as she gave me a mischievous smirk and wiped at her mouth with two fingers.
Vinod Sharmā could be heard getting to the top of the stairs, and I watched Arundhatī Joshī dab the two fingers between her lips, licking them clean.
I watched in utter pleasant shock, as Arundhatī Joshī opened my bedroom door and stepped into the hall.
I stood at my door and watched Arundhatī Joshī go the few feet to where Vinod Sharmā was heading into their bedroom.
“Hey honey,” Arundhatī Joshī said to Vinod Sharmā, as she tilted Vinod Sharmā’s face towards hers.
Arundhatī Joshī planted a big, full kiss on Vinod Sharmā before Vinod Sharmā walked on into their bedroom.
I stood looking at Arundhatī Joshī pleasantly dumbfounded, as she looked back to me before joining her husband in their bedroom.
She pointed to my jeans and then made an up and down motion with her fingers.
I looked down to see what she was referring to, and I then realized my jeans were unzipped.
I looked up and back at Arundhatī Joshī, who smiled brightly to me before ducking into the bedroom.
After the tumultuous Saturday, we all went to dinner together.
Vinod Sharmā drove, and Arundhatī Joshī was in the passenger seat, while I quietly rode in the back seat.
Vinod Sharmā talked golf, as Arundhatī Joshī peered out the window.
She felt a swirl of different emotions about the last two days.
She especially felt regret at having pulled the stunt she did just earlier, when she had gone up and kissed Vinod Sharmā once he got home.
That was stupid and wrong.
She rationalized it to herself by thinking about how elated she had felt at finally having had passionate sex with me, after years of her and Vinod Sharmā barely touching.
Even though it was with me, which was a whole other set of problems itself, it was still not justification for having done something so devious.
She swore to herself she would make it up to me.
The car was almost to the restaurant as she was also shocked, as well as delighted, that she had even let herself do some of the things she had done.
Sure, she had fantasized about different acts or such, but she had never really been a daring partner.
Not at all.
To have done the things she had in the last two days simply shocked her.
As we pulled to the valet, she flipped her vanity mirror down to adjust her makeup.
She used the opportunity to look in the mirror to the backseat at me.
I was looking ahead and clearly fixed in my own thoughts.
She felt jarring guilt.
She felt the guilt for having been the way she was at the party with me, and then she wrestled maddening guilt at the notion of having had sex with me.
Maybe she was going insane, she thought.
But just as she had already done in her previous reflections on the day, where she had kicked and thrashed herself inside for having had sex with me, her thoughts at once went to the both of us together.
It was like she looked at me in two totally different ways.
She knew she had to have some malady, she figured, but she looked at me as a Bachhalyā on one hand, and on another, she viewed me as this ever young, virile man.
She further justified clearly I was experienced with even Brāhmañ women already.
I had not been an unwitting victim, she believed.
I had pursued her, just as she had accepted my advances.
She also repeatedly thought of herself as pathetic in a way.
She could no longer claim to be a good friend’s wife.
She could never claim this ever again.
Plus, it was likely she had unalterably changed her relationship with me to where there would be at least some negative consequences.
All of these rational thoughts replayed in her head, but as if on cue, her focus shifted.
She stood, straightened her skirt and looked over at me who was also standing and looking over at her with a grin.
Yes, it was all of those things alright, but she still felt the way she did.
She loved me, and… well, she wanted me.
She felt a chill as we all went into the restaurant.
She held her head up, but she gave it a small shake in bewilderment.
All appeared calm and collected, but as we walked in together, she did so with the knowledge that her exchanged glance with me had made her wet.*
At our table, all the three of us soon were downing drinks.
Of course, I juices only.
Vinod Sharmā had his first of probably many Scotch and waters.
Arundhatī Joshī ordered her favorite Chardonnay, and I stuck with my usual juices.
There was a comfortable atmosphere despite the morning’s confrontation, as Vinod Sharmā and I talked up the football games going on for the weekend.
Arundhatī Joshī didn’t really join in the conversation, but she didn’t really mind either.
She took a devious enjoyment in sitting back and observing us.
Vinod Sharmā spoke as he understood I was conditioned to do, and that was authoritatively.
He’d learned long ago to think and feel confidently and it had served him well.
Plus, I was his friend.
He felt good speaking to me with assuredness.
Of course, Vinod Sharmā knew what the games meant for the teams involved, and Vinod Sharmā felt good about my view of who would do well.
I delighted in sharing this with me.
I had always felt there was an inconsistency with how interested my friend was in even talking to me.
He’d soak this up, even if at times Vinod Sharmā seemed kind of… smug.
I smiled to my friend and nodded.
I also occasionally stole looks at my friend’s wife.
I was amazed.
I saw this composed, elegant young woman, the same image I had observed for years.
But now, I also saw this young woman who looked just slightly steeled to where she was avoiding the visibility of layers that shouldn’t be seen.
One layer was a restlessness that contained an appetite.
This was a layer she didn’t want detected.
It was a layer that made her incredibly more interesting and desirable to me now.
For herself, Arundhatī Joshī wondered how these guys could care so much about such a meaningless thing as the football games.
Her glass never left her hand as she savored each drink of the white wine.
She couldn’t help but marvel somewhat at me, as I showed absolutely no discomfort or inhibition at the table at all.
Here I had just spent some of the day betraying my friend as severely as I could, and I seemed utterly unfazed.
She choked at her wine as she realized the exact same thing could be said of herself.
Both men looked concernedly over to her, and she waved us off.
We resumed our conversation effortlessly, as she resumed her thoughts on my lack of concern as well as her own.
In her mind, she and I just cared for each other deeply.
It was so intense that it was like we were compelled to show it physically, she told herself.
And, she concluded that this must explain my ease with the situation as well.
After a couple of more drinks and the appetizer, Arundhatī Joshī found herself looking more and more at me.
When I’d return her look, I gazed back with a look Arundhatī Joshī adored.
It was a cute but desirous look as well.
It was hard for her to believe, but exactly what she wanted.
She admonished herself that she needed to be careful, but part of her didn’t care.
She made herself participate more in some of our talk, but she started feeling that Vinod Sharmā was just acting too… smug.
It agitated her somewhat.
During the meal, Vinod Sharmā took stock of the evening and felt a sense of contentment.
I liked and admired his wife, regardless of whether he still found her desirable.
Their comfort and security with one another was one of the best things he valued.
As far as his other needs went, he had solved that issue some time back.
Just like on this particular Saturday, his routine was golf with buddies.
He inwardly grinned knowing his Saturday routine also always included the stop by his favorite massage therapist on the way home.
There was that hour of alone time and relaxation that always culminated in the young Musalmān woman finishing his massage in a delirious release that left him sated.
This never failed to calm him and make Saturday evening that much more enjoyable, knowing his every need had been met.
This evening was no different.*
The car ride home from the restaurant was quiet and subdued.
Everyone had eaten well and had enjoyed drinks throughout the evening.
Everyone was also lost in his/her own thoughts.
Once home, Vinod Sharmā and Arundhatī Joshī made their way straight to the kitchen for night caps to take upstairs to bed.
I went to my room to change into a t-shirt and gym shorts.
I was looking forward to watching the end of the football game on TV.
Arundhatī Joshī followed Vinod Sharmā back upstairs, and she found herself excited with an idea she’d come to over the course of the evening.
She changed clothes into a nice teddy while Vinod Sharmā readied himself for bed in the bathroom.
This would be her chance to make things right with Vinod Sharmā, she figured.
Vinod Sharmā stepped out of the bathroom and directed himself straight to the bed.
Pulling back the covers, he heard Arundhatī Joshī speak to me from where she was standing across from him before getting into the bed herself.
He saw the black teddy and grinned.
“Hey baby,” she purred and she tried to give a sly grin.
Vinod Sharmā chuckled.
He continued pulling himself into bed.
Arundhatī Joshī slipped under the covers beside him.
She slid over to him, and he felt himself brace as she did.
“Sweetheart, you look great,” they both knew there was a ‘but’ coming.
“I’m really beat tonight, you know? I mean, we partied last night. I played golf all day. Then, all the drinks and food tonight. I got to get some sleep, that’s all.”
Arundhatī Joshī patted at her hair trying to seem unaffected.
“Hey, I understand. Don’t worry. I can help you get to sleep, you know?” Her hand went to his side and rubbed him.
Vinod Sharmā shifted in bed, effectively moving from her.
“Tell you what, let’s hold that idea till in the morning. We’ll do just that. I’m beat tonight.”
Arundhatī Joshī flopped over onto her back on her side of the bed. She stared dejectedly up at the ceiling.
Then, she popped out of bed, shrugging off the nightie and pulling on her satin robe.
“I’m going downstairs for a drink.”
She pulled the door loudly shut, as she stormed from the room.
She tugged the robe tightly to her body, and she tried to compose herself as she descended the stairs.
Incredibly, she had gone from feeling buoyant and bright to weak and insecure in Vinod Sharmā’s swift rejection of her.
Just calm down, she told herself.
Propped on the sofa and engrossed in the football game, I noticeably brightened when she entered the living room.
Arundhatī Joshī beamed right back at me.
She was very grateful for my reaction.
“Hey,” she looked at me, then the TV and back at me.
“How are you doing?” I asked with a warmness in my tone.
“I’m okay.” She sat in a chair facing the sofa and she tried to show interest in what I was watching. “Who’s winning?”
I answered, but it was completely lost on her.
She nodded absently and acted like she was watching along with me.
I went about trying to explain to her how the pro football teams played Saturday night games when December rolled around, when they typically would not previously in the season.
Arundhatī Joshī listened and looked at me, but she didn’t seem genuinely interested in the subject, only in holding my attention.
I grinned appreciatively at her.
Arundhatī Joshī stood and walked to the kitchen.
She went to refresh her glass, knowing full well she should stop and leave well enough alone. There was a haze from the night’s indulgence that she was aware of and decided to continue to fuel.
She drank her wine and paced a couple of steps in the kitchen.
She found herself standing in front of the sink where a large clear window overlooked their back yard.
Arundhatī Joshī stared longingly out the window.
Her thoughts jumped around.
She could make out her reflection very well in the clean glass of the window.
She saw a younger woman that she wondered about.
She had this self-image, but she wondered now whether it fit.
She doubted her looks any more, and now she began doubting even her own judgment.
Hadn’t she made a huge mistake?
What could she be thinking, having these feelings about me?
Was she just desperate?
Was she just starved?
She drank more of the wine from her glass, and she gave an answer at least to the last question.
After the day she just experienced, she recognized that she had been missing a lot.
It was just the truth.
And, if she was being really honest with herself, the affection, and the sex, was still a need for her.
An important need, she admitted.
Against her better judgment, she thought about me and our time.
She took a deep breath as she thought about how I was and how I had made her feel.
She had to admit I had made her feel like she hadn’t in a very long time, if ever.
She silently stirred at how very well I had been with her.
Then, as if on cue, I materialized in the reflection of the window, and she saw I was now standing there behind her.
At first, neither of us spoke, even though we both acknowledged each other in the reflection with our looks to each other.
The tension was palpable.
Here she was downstairs with me.
She had come downstairs, leaving Vinod Sharmā upstairs in bed asleep.
She had come downstairs and found me here. And… She had stayed.
Arundhatī Joshī studied her glass for a moment and swirled it about. “Is the game still on?”
“What’s the score now?”
“I don’t care any more.”
She smiled at me in the reflection. “Good answer.”
I looked at her intensely.
“Why aren’t you in there watching it?” There was a hint of challenge in her tone.
“Because you’re in here.”
She chuckled at this. “Mmmmmm, even better answer.”
She pulled a long taste of her wine.
Then, as if thinking better of our banter, she added, “You should go back to your game.”
“I don’t want to.” My hands went to her arms and traced up.
I started massaging her shoulders, and she seemed a little surprised.
At first, she tried hard to act indifferent.
She seemed to resist showing any reaction.
This was what she should do.
“Well, you should.” Her tone was thin and unconvincing.
I brought my hands back down her arms, and I leaned much closer to her.
She saw in the window how my head moved closer to her own.
“We can’t be that way again.” She said it quietly. Resignedly.
I opened my hands wide and went from her arms to her sides still massaging her.
She closed her eyes at my touch.
“You’re crazy. This is wrong.” She was even quieter than before.
No conviction was behind the words.
My hands glided wide over her belly and she wavered as she watched my hands on her, mentally noting how wide my hands were.
Her belly felt on fire from me.
She then felt me press to her from behind, my body was solid and straight.
There was definitely a bulge down there, too.
“Please… stop.” She was completely unconvincing and her words flat.
I paused like I might stop.
She froze in place.
A moment passed where she seemed to think.
She reached out and put her drink down, then reached with her hands to me.
We both saw me smile in the reflection.
“You are such a beautiful woman.”
“I wish that was true.”
“Of course it’s true.”
I put my hands to the satin belt of her robe and I waited letting her see what I was doing.
My hands drew a line over the belt out in each direction and back again, as her hands followed atop mine.
Her hands lightly gripped me, as if to discourage me.
We watched the material of her robe crease as the hands went up.
“I should go to bed.” She said it like she was commenting about someone else.
Her hands stayed at my arms as my hands reached to trace at the satin of the robe high on her chest.
I pressed at her robe, and she felt the lines I made over her breasts underneath, before going on to circle her chest with motions that went around the points of her robe where her nipples tented it.
My fingers rubbed the satin against her so that her nipples felt the satin press them and then release.
Impossibly, I was making them harder and more pointed with my caresses there.
She drew a sharp breath at my motions, and I lowered my face and spoke softly into her ear.
“Do you want to go to bed? Is that what you want?”
She raised her arms to put her hands in my hair up and behind her.
With this I dipped my head and started kissing her neck and over onto her shoulder.
She sighed and whispered.
I continued to kiss and lick her shoulders.
She clenched her eyes and opened them to see my hands pull the part of her robe where it crossed at her chest.
I just tugged it apart.
The robes’ sides backed away from each other, and the bare skin of her chest displayed in full view of the both of us.
Her breasts hung openly and fully, bottomed with the protruding pointed nipples I had teased when they were covered.
My hands came to them and held them, lifting just slightly.
Her entire body swooned a little at what I had done to her, as she acted unsteady.
Looking at her, I said more in her ear.
“You don’t want to go to bed, do you?”
There was a muffled sound from her.
I straightened my stance, and her head rested more back against my chest but still gazed forward at our reflection.
My hands moved again.
One swipe at the belt finished unleashing it, and my hands pressed at the open hips that appeared.
My left hand stayed pressed to her hip, and my right hand crossed her skin at her waist.
“AHHHHHHHH!” She exclaimed at my entry.
As if reflexively, she brought her hips backwards.
I pushed back at her and held.
“Oh, Durgesh!” She yelped at me.
I couldn’t believe how wet and hot she felt to my touch.
Overcome with her reaction, I brought my left arm under around her waist.
I maneuvered her around and away from the counter.
I had her wrapped in my arm and my hand holding her, as I physically brought her across the room to the kitchen table.
I forced her to the table, her back still to me, and pinned her there.
In one swift push, I had her bent over the table.
Her hands went out by her sides and braced herself.
She didn’t pull back up or slide in either direction away.
I saw no resistance from her at all.
I hovered over where I was rendering her bent over the table.
She slumped in a sprawl right in front of me.
We both heard her take a sharp gasp, when I flipped her robe up over her back from behind.
The next sound was a soft cry from her.
The gym shorts easily lowered to release my full erection.
I slid a foot of hers sideways, leaving her legs spread wide and further flattening her onto the table.
My left hand left her back where I had first thought I might have to hold her, and it went between her legs.
She reeled from my left hand reaching to her crotch and manipulating her there, fingers prying at her and opening her.
She felt lightheaded from the surprising physicality of it all, and she twitched anxiously under me.
With her lips worked open, a thick plunge pushed her forward and her upper body traveled up the surface of the table.
Desperately, she gripped to brace herself, as her body lifted impaled and defenseless.
Waves of tingling charges and profound pleasure washed over her, as she felt her helplessness at my Bachhalyā thrusts.
Her mouth fell open but silent, and her head tilted up and forward.
I was working at her and pushing. Vigorously.
“UUNNNGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!” The moaning came from her throat as I pumped at her.
Arundhatī Joshī couldn’t believe how hard and thick I felt pistoning in and out of her, and she writhed uncontrollably.
I felt as hard and excited as I could ever remember being, with her lying out below me and my having my way deep inside her.
Her body jerked about with each pump from me.
My balls felt heavy right away and I wondered how long I could last.
Arundhatī Joshī shook her head back and forth and relished the fullness of me there.
She had never been taken as thoroughly as this.
Lightness and more spasms shot through her as she struggled to contain herself from screaming loudly.
She was bucking more and more as yet another orgasm rocked her.
As she shook violently, I was set off into my own.
Seeing her body shake as it did pushed me over the edge, and I grunted and shot into her.
I pushed and made a grinding effort at her as though I was seeking some finish even deeper within her.
With my hips forward and my back hunched I slowed to a stop.
Arundhatī Joshī still had her hips elevated and was impaled on me as she tried to catch her breath and her emotions.
Her chest was mashed to the table top and her palms were flat on it.
She let her head softly ease to rest on the table’s surface as well.
She at once thought of how she must have looked at me.
Her legs were spread lewdly.
She even felt her cheeks at her bottom open given the width of her legs being apart.
Her entire upper torso and arms were still pushed forward and the robe dangled about in disarray.
She had to have looked ravished.
Nevertheless, when she thought of how I even still felt to her, lodged within, and how exquisitely taken every part of her felt, she couldn’t suppress a big smile.
I had wildly fucked her.
Durgesh was always right.
It was an art.
And Durgesh was the only master of this art.
Gotrbhid Mahā Bhārat
Shūdrasý tu Savarñaiv Nānyā Bhāryā vidhīyaté
‘Jāti Pānti Poochhé Nahin Koī,
Hari ko bhajé so Hari kā Hoī’
1/18: Ādi Parv
He seemed to be sticking with just a couple of the other men.
Arundhatī Joshī didn’t understand why it was that he didn’t move about or use this party as the occasion to mingle.
These were people they’d mostly known a good while, and she thought it best he be friendly and more open.
This holiday party was one of the social events Arundhatī Joshī always looked forward to.
She had picked out her form-fitting black dress weeks before, and her black heels were her favorites.
She liked especially when her friends noticed her choices, and she in turn appreciated theirs.
A couple of her friends were even very complimentary to her this year.
One had been so flattering as to compare her to the actress Anne Archer, and the way the actress had looked in a popular movie from years ago.
Arundhatī Joshī was guardedly aware of the comparison but didn’t say much about. She did take good care of herself, and she thought her bright eyes and full lips did accentuate whatever appeal she carried.
At 5’5″ and 120 pounds, she worked out regularly and ate carefully.
Arundhatī Joshī was proud she had maintained herself as she had.
This was regardless of whatever popular comparison was made of her to an actress.
A few minutes after nine o’clock, Arundhatī Joshī was near the front entrance of the clubhouse when she heard a newcomer being welcomed inside.
Her attention was piqued when she heard that deep, distinctive voice.
She’d recognize that voice anywhere, she knew.
She stepped quickly around a hall to the front entrance and then she let out a shriek.
“Heeyyyyyy!” She exclaimed upon seeing me.
My face brightened into a beaming smile, and I instantly embraced her.
“Hey, Arundhatī Joshī!” I answered as excitedly back to her as she had done with me. We hugged each other tightly, and those around us all smiled at our joy in seeing each other.
Arundhatī Joshī pulled back to look at me, and she talked of how I had already seemed to change.
We continued to hold onto each other as we quickly talked and started catching up.
After a few minutes, she took me by the arm.
Arundhatī Joshī ushered me on into the party and started showing me around.
Her first stop was with my friend, and while we may not have shown quite the excitement that Arundhatī Joshī and I had, it was still clear to her that Vinod Sharmā was glad to see me, their only friend in need.
Arundhatī Joshī slowly drifted back.
Shhe let me see others and mingle on my own.
She kept a watchful eye, as I easily roamed around seeing others just as effortlessly as she always managed.
She of course attributed that to herself and not to my more socially stunted and reserved friend, Vinod Sharmā.
Arundhatī Joshī also, for probably the first time, took notice of just what a man I was.
I clearly seemed more mature and more grown than she could ever remember seeing before.
I stood up straight and tall, always an imposing figure to her.
I had kept lean and athletic, and I was certainly handsome, making Arundhatī Joshī reassured that I was popular with the girls back at everywhere.
A friend of Arundhatī Joshī‘s ambled beside her and also looked over to me.
“Wow, Arundhatī Joshī. He’s really utmost handsome still at his Sixty Six even, you know?”
Arundhatī Joshī couldn’t get out a spoken response, and the truth was that she was probably a little oft put by having a friend of hers make such an adult comment about her husband’s friend.
Arundhatī Joshī just shrugged, but the friend offered more.
“I mean, he’s really the stud they claim.”
Arundhatī Joshī half-turned to her friend and playfully slapped at her.
Arundhatī Joshī gasped at the remark and they both snickered.
But as Arundhatī Joshī turned her attention back to me, she did exactly as the friend had suggested and she took in my arms and hands.
They appeared strong even at my Sixty Six and noticeably so.
Arundhatī Joshī mentally examined my hands and she felt a queasiness inside, as it registered with her that her friend had perceived correctly.
My hands did look more handsome than normal.
She turned back to her friend and she wondered if her friend had watched her eye me.
They just chuckled to one another, and they went for another drink.
Arundhatī Joshī didn’t know if the wandering observation meant she needed more to drink or whether it signaled she should stop.
It took but an instant for her to conclude that it meant for her to have another one.
As the evening wore on, she enjoyed her friends and neighbors, and she kept her glass refilled.
She felt such an excitement and happiness that she also replenished her husband’s glass as well.
She knew she was getting buzzed, but she also knew this was one of the few parties she really let herself relax at.
Besides, we were just a short walk from home.
During the party, she kept an eye on her husband, and she tried to see for herself just how much I actually did socialize.
She found herself regretting that he didn’t seem to try harder socially.
She believed that he would get more out of things like this party if he just put more effort into it.
Much to her tipsied surprise, she also found herself keeping an eye on me.
She liked how I did make the effort, and she was sure that I and she were so very alike at how we were both so social.
More than once, she found herself just watching me.
A couple of times, I caught her watching me, too.
I would just smile over at her and give some gesture.
Whether a small wave or a knowing nod, I never failed to acknowledge her.
Arundhatī Joshī felt an unusual mix of pride in me, together with a new-found appreciation for what an impressive ever young man I had become.
She wondered if I must have overnight reached this age where I was such a man.
She partially understood her take of me was influenced by the alcohol, and she warned herself to slow it down.
Arundhatī Joshī made her way carefully to the kitchen, and she poured the remaining drink she had into the sink.
She went to rest against the counter when she was pleasantly surprised by me moving right up next to her.
“Hey lady,” I smiled to her as if we shared a secret and she found herself feeling charmed by me. “Have you been a good girl this year?”
I openly laughed, and she did, too.
Arundhatī Joshī felt herself practically blushing and she let herself imagine I was almost flirting with her.
“Well, unfortunately, yes. I have.”
We laughed more at her playing along, and she shook her head at me.
She was definitely feeling the lightness from the wine when one of the guests in the kitchen chuckled and pointed towards her.
The few guests in the kitchen looked above Arundhatī Joshī‘s head and looked back down at her again, all of them smiling at what they’d seen.
Arundhatī Joshī was perplexed at first, and she looked overhead to see what they were looking at.
She found herself looking right up at a twig of mistletoe.
She looked back down and then over next to her.
She looked up at me, and when I grinned back at her, she just kept looking up to me.
Without really thinking why, she knew she was looking at me too long.
She was sure she was confounding me by putting me on the spot with herself under the mistletoe, but I surprised her right back.
It was like I didn’t miss a beat in answering her gesture of looking to me when I moved to her and took Arundhatī Joshī into my own arms.
I let it linger briefly, and she heard a couple of people reacting with ‘ahhhs’.
As soon as I pulled back, Arundhatī Joshī decided she wouldn’t be outdone.
This time Arundhatī Joshī lingered and she was surprised when I didn’t pull right away.
Was it romance?
Was Arundhatī Joshī in love with me, her husband’s friend?
When I did break our connection, Arundhatī Joshī felt an exuberant rush she didn’t expect.
She pulled my face back, and gave another quick kiss.
This seemed to challenge me, and amid some audible reactions from the guests who were watching, I kissed her right back and a bit more urgently.
My tongue was there and urgent itself, and it was the sounds of louder reactions from the other guests that finally prompted Arundhatī Joshī to release me.
We both laughed.
She knew her face was flush with the craziness of what had happened.
The other guests were buzzing in the background, but all she could do was look at me and quietly shake her head in amazement.
I smiled broadly.
Arundhatī Joshī took a long, confident pull on her drink.
She could only stare at me openly and feel a giddiness.
Without saying anything more, Arundhatī Joshī headed over to the hallway.
She was still dazed as she made her way to the stairs and headed to a bathroom.
I had certainly surprised her.
She figured she had surprised me, too.
Arundhatī Joshī was still feeling a lightness from her kisses with me, as she freshened herself in the upstairs bathroom before coming out.
She checked her hair and make-up in the mirror, and she was pleasantly amused when she realized she had to re-apply her lipstick.
She was incredulous that she was using more lipstick because of kissing me.
She chuckled to herself as she carefully dabbed at her full lips with the red gloss.
When she was contented with her composed look once more, she opened the door and started back out to the party.
As she got into the hall she flinched as she came directly in front of me.
I was standing right in front of her and grinning down at her.
She started grinning right back, and she drew a sharp intake of breath when I took her by the arm and pulled her into an adjoining room.
I closed the door behind us where we were then alone.
She felt shock as I was once again bringing my face to hers, and she shocked herself when she decided to just go with what I did.
I was kissing her again, and this time it was I who was opening my mouth to hers.
My tongue entered her mouth and wrestled with hers, and she started pulling back from me, only to feel me stay on her mouth. She felt herself relent to my kiss.
She felt the same giddiness she had started to feel in the kitchen only this time it was intensified.
The feel of me and the complete surprise of it caused her to stand there and just receive my forceful, full kiss.
She brought a hand to my chest and she was about to press it to my chest when I took her hand.
She felt my mouth move fervently on her own, and she thought I was about to break the kiss since she’d brought her hand up. Instead, she felt me move her hand.
I brought it down, and in a one smooth motion it went right on top of my Bachhalyā crotch.
Arundhatī Joshī immediately tensed and she shrieked into my mouth.
She pulled at her hand to bring it away, but I kept it pressed to me.
My tongue worked about in her mouth, and she felt herself instinctively react.
Arundhatī Joshī squeezed at me there and held it, deliberately now, entirely unashamed of herself.
Hey Bhagvān! God, Arundhatī Joshī never knew she loved me as her man so much.
She never knew.
She never knew.
Yet the proof was there.
She then felt my hand go quickly up under her dress and between her legs.
She absolutely could not believe I had my hand on her panties and was feeling her there.
As if the reality came in a jolt, she knew to stop.
“No,” she snapped, “no.” She yanked my hand from between her legs.
She looked to me and my face looked intense where I was clearly aroused and focused on her.
She smiled and shook her head.
I managed a smirk back.
She pushed to my side and escaped out the door, looking back over her shoulder to me as she moved away.
She wished she hadn’t been grinning as she was, but she couldn’t help it.
I grinned back as I watched her drift off to other females at the party.*
It wasn’t much longer before the three of us left the clubhouse and walked the couple of blocks home.
We arrived home.
It was as if Vinod Sharmā couldn’t wait to make it upstairs and collapse onto the bed.
Arundhatī Joshī noticed me stealing glances her way repeatedly, no doubt emboldened by what had happened between us.
As Vinod Sharmā started climbing the stairs, I looked at her once again as she went to follow Vinod Sharmā to bed.
She looked back at me, and there was a conspiratorial smile between Arundhatī Joshī and me.
When she kept going up the stairs to follow Vinod Sharmā to bed, I fell along behind them to climb up the stairs.
The three of us marched up the stairs.
We got upstairs.
Vinod Sharmā and Arundhatī Joshī started in one direction with me going the other.
We said our good nights.
Arundhatī Joshī again looked to a grinning me and shook her head as if in disbelief.
I kept her look as she went into the bedroom with Vinod Sharmā.
Arundhatī Joshī hadn’t yet started to undress and she felt compelled to say something to me.
She wasn’t sure what exactly, but as she gave Vinod Sharmā time to undress and ready himself for bed, she decided to go and speak to me.
Vinod Sharmā was falling into bed and into a certain stupor when she told him she’d be right back.
She mentally gathered herself to comfort me and tried to compose her thoughts as she went down the hallway.
A mix of feelings swirled within her, as she knew she had to be the authoritative voice of reason, but yet she was also still enjoying the playful side of whatever was going on.
She got to my bedroom door and she took a deep breath.
Usually, she might knock first, but she decided just to let herself in.
She quietly pushed the door open and slipped just inside.
She closed it back, but she didn’t move further, staying where she was leaning back against the door.
When she entered, I turned to her from where I was across the room.
We both froze and stared at each other.
I was in a t-shirt and boxers, and she managed to stay focused on my face.
“Hey.” She said meekly, when she had intended to come across as authoritative.
“Hey,” I responded and my voice sounded deep and rich to her.
Her mouth parted to say something, but at first no words came.
She instantly knew she’d made a mistake.
She surprised even herself at feeling so disinclined to act firmly with me.
“Um, I’m not sure what happened back there,” she started but I interrupted her, sounding clearly more certain than her.
“You’re not?” I sounded disbelieving her.
I crossed my arms and leaned back Imyself this time, using a desk in my room to prop against.
“No, um,” she hated sounding so unsteady as she heard her words come slowly.
Then, against better judgment, she let her eyes look downward and we surveyed my barely clad body.
Her eyes noted the thin boxers I had on, and there was a large, considerable lump in the middle of them.
She looked quickly back up to my face, but I was grinning appreciatively at her apparent interest.
She shook her head and tried to change her tone.
“I was out of line tonight. …”
“It was both of us who felt what we did.”
“Well, we shouldn’t have done that.” She sounded a bit more firm and resolved, she figured.
I seemed to relax my stance just a bit, as my arms unfolded and I simply put them at my sides.
I softened the look on my face and spoke as if to reassure her.
“It’s okay. Really it is. We were both into it, you know?”
Arundhatī Joshī stood more forward and the concern now came through in her voice.
“Durgesh, no. No, it’s not okay. For goodness sake, I’m your friend’s wife. And… I’m married after all.”
She immediately regretted she’d added such an obvious fact, but she was feeling shaken by my attitude about this.
I leaned just forward, too.
I looked at her caringly and spoke softly as if trying to calm her. “Hey, we are both adults. And… .”
I paused and we both were aware she hung on my words for my thought.
I continued in a slightly more hushed tone.
“And we both liked it.” I grinned.
She closed her eyes at my saying that aloud, and then looked back at me and replied.
“Well, we got carried away with all the alcohol and all. But nothing like that can happen again.” She said it in a gentle way and with a slight smile, and she started opening the door to leave.
She had the door ajar, but had yet to leave, when my movement gave her pause.
She looked to me, and I was stripping my t-shirt away.
I let it slip to the floor and then I stood straight, facing directly at her.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
The New Order taking place
Durgesh Lubnā Al Ħamīd
I noticed that a shadow fell across my back.
Having turned 66 I was the man of the house now.
I turned towards the sun to see the bronzed legs of Ħamīdah, dressed in her skimpy tennis outfit.
When she reached up to serve, she was probably completely exposed.
As she towered over me, I blinked back the sweat that rolled down my brow, trying to get a better look at her beautiful body.
Her narrow ankles flared at her toned calves, from all that tennis at home and at the club.
Her thighs were on the large size, due undoubtedly again, to all that tennis.
Her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot mound was quite prominent, since my nose was just inches from it.
Could I smell the rich aroma of a woman’s, leaking Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot?
The smell of earth and plant matter from my morning work masked that rich Musalmān aroma.
The small outward curve of her tummy accentuated her wasp thin waistline.
From down here, near her exciting smelling Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot, her breasts hung over me like a veranda on a beautiful house.
From my crouching position it was easy to see why she was the main object of my many shower sessions.
Her husband, Al Ħamīd, the president of the largest bank in town got the other city father’s to give Lubnā and me this house after Al Ħamīd was killed thwarting an armed robbery at his bank.
They gave us this 3 bedroom house on the Al Ħamīd estate in gratitude for his selfless deed.
Personally, Lubnā would rather have Al Ħamīd than this house, but life does not always work that way.
Lubnā’s luscious Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān body shaded me from the meanest part of the noon day sun, as a heady aroma from her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot wafted across my nose.
Guess she worked up a sweat playing tennis on her court behind the trees, because there was a prominent wet spot in her crotch.
I reached up to wipe the sweat from my brow, when she said,
“No. Let me do that.”
Her left hand steadied my jaw turning my face towards her as she bent over, at the waist, and reached out with her right wrist and wiped the sweat from my forehead with the cotton wrist band she used when playing tennis.
Of course, this forced my face within inches of her melon sized breasts which had just been an exciting veranda.
There was a wonderful sprinkling of freckles on the upper slopes, and I could see a bit of the puckered flesh nipple before it disappeared into her lacy bra.
My ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Uncut Hindu Lund was hard as a rock and pushing the front of my shorts to the limit, when I heard her say in a very husky voice,
“See something you like?”
My ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Uncut Hindu Lund was now running the show completely as I leaned towards her to capture one of those melons in my palm.
“Durgesh. Lunch is on! Get a quick shower and let’s eat!” Lubnā yelled from the kitchen breaking the spell that Lubnā had cast over me and my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Uncut Hindu Lund.
I ripped my eyes from Al Ħamīdah’s cleavage and looked into her eyes.
An expression of loss swept across her pretty Musalmān face.
“Another time. Durgesh.”*
Al Jihad Al Vaqār could never forget I myself showed her the tremendous newsroom of HVSI Times, when she visited.
It was a great honor for Al Jihad Al Vaqār that I was so much interested myself to show her how the utmost popular newspaper of HVSI functioned.
“I have never seen so many desks,” Al Jihad Al Vaqār said with mounting excitement.
“One thousand eight of them,” I pulled her to me using my left hand around her slim waist already, “and the newsroom is over five acres.” I scanned the room and pointed, “Look down this row to the right. About the tenth one down. You can’t miss it – it’s the only clean desk on the floor. That’s the metropolitan section.”
“For Ved Nagar exclusively?”
I got up slowly brushing against Al Ħamīdah’s thigh, hip and breast as she was firmly within my personal space and did not budge as my sweaty body rubbed against her.
Actually, I could see, hear, and feel her gasp as my shoulder and chest met her lovely, round melon Musalmān breast.
“Durgesh” from the house set Lubnā in motion as she sashayed towards the opening in the fence between her mansion and our house.
My eyes locked on those firm Musalmān globes of her, obviously toned, ass cheeks.
At the opening in the fence, she glanced over her shoulder to see me ogling her beautiful Musalmān ass.
A smirk of a smile swept across her face before she swished her ponytail and was gone.
I stacked the cinder blocks that I had knelt on beside the back step as I entered the house.
“Who were you talking to?”
I told her that Ħamīdah was shagging some tennis balls and we spoke just before she called me.
A shadow swept across Lubnā’s face before she said,
“Hurry with your shower. Don’t want lunch to get cold.”
Did she glance at my shorts and see my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Uncut Hindu Lund standing at attention?
I went up the stairs two at a time and hit the shower.
I wanted to take my time and relieve my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Uncut Hindu Lund, but that would have to wait till I had the proper amount of time I needed to re-live this last encounter with Ħamīdah.
After drying, I slipped on a tee shirt and nylon running shorts.
Didn’t immediately see my flip-flops, so I went back down stairs bare foot.
When I came into the kitchen, Lubnā was standing at the kitchen sink with her hands on spread on each side of her and her head canted slightly to the right.
Lubnā was at least 6 inches shorter than Ħamīdah, who was probably about 5 foot 2 inches tall.
I slipped up behind her, quietly, placed my lips near her neck, and said, “Hi! Gorgeous. What are you thinking about?”
She shuddered and leaned back against me wiggling her tight Musalmān ass against the front of my shorts.
She always tried to seduce me either this way or that.
My lips came in contact with her neck, and I could feel the goose flesh pop up, so I kissed her and slid my lips to her ear.
She took my hands, which I had placed on each side of her, and brought them up to her breasts.
I started to pull away, but she held them firmly in place and forced me to squeeze them gently with her hands.
My ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Uncut Hindu Lund was back at attention and pressing between Lubnā’s Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass cheeks as she ground her beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān ass against me in a circular motion.
Soon my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Uncut Hindu Lund was sawing up and down her gorgeous Musalmān ass crack and my hands were squeezing her large, firm breasts with abandon.
She reached down, pulled her skirt above my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Uncut Hindu Lund, and then tugged my shorts down enough so his head would rub against her panties.
In a low, guttural voice, she said,
“Yes! Fuck me Durgesh. Fuck me hard.”
On one of my pullbacks, my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Uncut Hindu Lund slid between Lubnā’s legs and she spread them to welcome him.
It did take either of us more than countless strokes before we both came like crazy.
I squirted inside her as I felt her hot Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān cum wash over my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Uncut Hindu Lund .
Lubnā sagged against me and meowed a very contented purr as I kissed her neck with my open mouth.
Like a flash of lightning, Lubnā stood up straight and pushed me back with her butt before pulling her skirt down.
She turned in my arms, and said,
“Get over there and eat your lunch, ever young Hindu man!”
A look was on her face that I had not seen since before her husband was killed.
She reserved a stern, flint hard expression for me when I committed the most grievous crime around the house.
I looked deep into her flinty eyes and she said,
“Pull up your shorts and get over there and eat! NOW!”
I walked, on wooden legs, to the breakfast nook, slid in, and looked down at my plate.
What the hell just happened?
What did we just do?
Why did it happen?
I only did what she wanted, why was she yelling at me?
I could have been eating barbed wire for all I knew.
My mind was replaying every step of the last.
She is my Lubnā. I love her without condition.
I know she loves me, but Lubnās and Durgeshs don’t do that.
Every Lubnā and Durgesh do it now everywhere.
Even if some Lubnā’s husband, some Al Ħamīd comes in the way, he is removed by the System now, this way or that way.
It’s Infinite BrāhmKalp now.
Or, so they claimed.
Lubnā was only twenty-eight years old now, yet she was a widow and I had to fuck her now.
What triggered it?
I know I was horny from my encounter with Ħamīdah, but Lubnā?
She had not been out of the house since Lubnā gave her that red evening dress the year after her husband died, and they all went to the club.
Next morning, she made me take the dress back to Lubnā.
I guess Lubnā was horny too.
Too much pent up desires.
After all, she had devoted her life to me after her husband was killed. Scouts, PTA, Soccer, Football, Debate class.*
Al Jihad Al Vaqār began to read this morning’s edition of HVSI Times.
She had taken it from a pile at the foyer entrance to the newsroom.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār wondered appreciating it immensely how I manage to serve mostly only positive news to my readers, viewers and audiences and could still manage to be number One.
Most of the news channels and newspapers never believed they could even survive if they didn’t serve negative news tremendously.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār skipped the SARC news and other foreign dispatches, skimmed, scanned the national news from New Delhi and concerned on the metropolitan news.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār had become engrossed in this seemingly endless parade of the pleasure.
She felt a hand on her shoulder.
She heard her before she saw her.
“Ms. Nellie Bly, I presume?” Her voice carried a lilt of immense appreciation.*
Al Jihad Al Vaqār’s head came back.
She looked up as Bābarah Åālamgīr added.
“I’m Bābarah Åālamgīr, at your service, ma’am.”
Al Jihad Al Vaqār scrambled to her feet.
She was somewhat surprised and disconcerted, unsettled, by Bābarah Åālamgīr’s immensely good looks.
She had expected HVSI Times’ best investigative reporter to resemble an aggressive ferret or a mole.
Instead, Bābarah Åālamgīr resembled an aging collegian that could easily win any damn beauty contest with excellence.
Bābarah Åālamgīr had gray eyes, absolutely marvelous gray eyes meant to take any woman immensely jealous of her and any worthy young man crazy to get her.
Moreover, as so many investigative reporters did, Bābarah Åālamgīr didn’t smell any breath spray.
“Yeah. HVSI is a democratic organization spread almost everywhere.”
We walked Al Jihad Al Vaqār about the endless newsroom, introducing her to a blur of receptive editors and reporters, mostly young Musalmān ladies, as Bābarah Åālamgīr tried to explain the organization of the newsroom.
It was similar to the organization of her own newspaper, only there was more of it, very very much more.
I pointed out the location of the desks of the metropolitan editors, national editors, foreign editors, and the partitioned offices holding the sports desks, financial desks, culture desks.
Most of this was from the HVSI Times’ own special correspondents, the rest of them were HVSI Press, news agency, PTI and other similar news agencies’ sources.
The flood of words pouring in dazed Al Jihad Al Vaqār.
“How many words come in here every day?” she wondered.
I looked at her,
“You mean just on the wires? Or from our local reporters, police headquarters, City hall, and in general?”
“About a million and three quarters words every twenty four hours. We print about 150, 000 of those words.”
Al Jihad Al Vaqār groaned.
“How’ll a reporter ever get a word in edgewise?”
“It’s not how much a reporter gets in,” I told Al Jihad Al Vaqār, “If s/he makes it as an investigative reporter, her/his words will get in, plenty of them.”
Al Jihad Al Vaqār trailed us through one department and office after another – advertising with its staff of 500, the morgue with its rows of clipping files, the reference library with its thousands of books, the picture editor’s offices and finally the composing room.
Each story came out there in computerized strips that were cut up, pasted onto boards, converted into plates that were photographed electronically.*
Lubnā came back from upstairs dressed in a cotton, print house dress that clung to her every curve without meaning to do that.
She did not speak or look at me, just slid into her place and began eating.
My mind spun like a wooden top.
When the last scrap on my plate was gone, I could not remember what I had just eaten.
I turned to Lubnā, whose face was down and said,
“When you are finished cleaning up, I want to talk to you in the living room.”
She did not look up or acknowledge that I had spoken.
I went to the living room and sat on the couch thinking about what I would say to Lubnā.
I went round and round and most everything sounded more like my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Uncut Hindu Lund talking than me.
I was going over everything for the 20th time when Lubnā came in.
She started to sit in the chair across the room, when I got up and guided her to the couch.
I sat her next to me and she burst into tears.
I pulled her to me, and could feel her sobbing and my tee shirt got wet from her tears.
I stroked her back in the best soothing motions I could manage while my mind boiled over with all the thoughts and emotions that I could manage. As her sobs subsided, I whispered into her hair,
“I love you with all my heart, Lubnā.”
This brought on another avalanche of sobs.
I patted her for a few minutes and then pulled her chin up and kissed her firmly on the lips.
Her eyes popped wide open, she pushed me back and said,
“Durgesh! This is wrong. I am your Bahū Bégum.”
I held her gaze steadily and said,
“No Lubnā. What is wrong is that both of us are living under this roof and we are both completely in need of sex. You need it even more than me. That’s why you never listened to me when I opposed it myself.”
“I’m sorry to suck you when you were asleep.”
“You didn’t only suck me you fucked me too wildly after sucking me.”
“You could have stopped me. You were never asleep. You were only pretending to be.”
“I didn’t want to insult you. I never insult a woman if she offers herself to me.”
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Gotrbhid Mahā Bhārat
Shūdrasý tu Savarñaiv Nānyā Bhāryā vidhīyaté
‘Jāti Pānti Poochhé Nahin Koī,
Hari ko bhajé so Hari kā Hoī’
1/18: Ādi Parv
There were lots of crazy parties with women who wanted to have sex with me.
I hooked up with a bunch of them.
I’m not dating anybody seriously.
I really just wanted to concentrate on getting good women.
Although, I loved going to frat parties and certainly enjoyed loose women.
I was going to be spending the summer with my friend and his wife in Florida for the summer.
I was really looking forward to sleeping late, hanging by the pool, long soaks in the hot tub, and fun in the sun at the beach.
I didn’t plan on doing anything other than those things.
My friend would be out of town for the first month that I’ll be home.
He was doing volunteer work in Africa.
My friend was a wealthy man.
He owned ten car dealerships here in Florida.
He didn’t really work much these days.
He was more of a philanthropist.
He had always wanted to do work in Africa.
They were building a new hospital and he wanted to be involved with it.
He did say he’d make it up to me when he gets home.
Of course, Lajjā Mukherjī, his wife, would be home.
Lajjā Mukherjī was my friend’s little princess.
She didn’t do a damn thing.
I guess with her body and her looks she really didn’t have to do much.
I guess she was a trophy wife.
I wouldn’t mind having her on my arm.
She was a knockout.
Lajjā Mukherjī was thirty years old and my friend was sixty.
He really gets a kick out of her.
He treated her like his little prized Barbie doll.
I think he really gets off by it.
He bought her anything she wanted and even plastic surgery if she wanted that too.
I knew he had her breasts done, not sure she had any other work.
I often wonder if she cheated on my friend.
I didn’t know if she would.
She had a really wonderful life and I was sure she’d never want to fuck that up.
All she had to do is just look good.
She didn’t clean or cook.
He has people to do that for them.
She just had to always look like an absolute doll.
He must fuck her a lot.
I bet he popped Viagra all damn day to keep up with her.
I haven’t seen her since last summer, but Lajjā Mukherjī really makes my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund hard.
She was very fit and always going to yoga classes.
Lajjā Mukherjī was 5’8″ and she had long blond hair, which she always put in an elastic band.
She had blue eyes and the longest legs.
Her breast implants were about a 38D.
My friend loved for her to wear very skimpy clothing.
My pants always get a little tight when looking at her body.
Lajjā Mukherjī was quite the flirt and loved to get a reaction out of people.
She loved me to want her.
It’s a whole little act that she does.
I really didn’t know if she’d really want to cheat, but I guess if my friend wasn’t around she might.
I guess time would tell.
I just arrived at the airport.
I walked over to the check-in desk and showed them my boarding pass and my airline ticket.
I checked my luggage and then proceeded to the security area.
After I was cleared, I then went to a coffee shop in the airport and bought a coffee and a magazine for the trip.
As I was waiting for the announcement to board our plane, I had noticed a lot of attractive women who were traveling alone.
Some of them were dressed to kill and I was hoping that I’d be lucky enough to sit next to one of them.
After about an hour, they finally made the announcement to board the plane.
All the passengers started to walk onto the plane.
Once inside the plane, I went to the overhead compartment and put my bag up inside the storage area.
My seat was by the window. I sat down and got myself comfortable.
I was pretty excited, one of the attracting looking babes sat down next to me.
She was really hot.
She had on a very short black dress.
She had enormous tits.
She was a blonde with blue eyes and she was really leggy.
She was really in great shape.
I knew this would be a fun trip.
I was already starting to get hard in my jeans.
It wasn’t a terribly crowded flight.
Thankfully, nobody else sat in the row.
It was just her and myself.
“Hey, I am Sudhā Pandyā.”
“Nice to meet you. I am Durgesh.”
“I am so glad to sit next to a hunk.”
“I am glad to be sitting next to a goddess.”
“You’re very sweet. I like you.”
We giggled and we put on our seat belts.
The stewardesses went over the safety instructions and then we were getting ready to take off.
The plane then got up into the air without any problems.
The stewardesses started to come around with the drink carts.
We were in the middle of the plane.
Sudhā Pandyā‘s dress was too tight.
She had huge breasts.
I’d say she was 38D, kind of like Lajjā Mukherjī.
I was really hoping to have some fun with this babe in the air.
I was definitely wanting to fuck her and be part of the mile high club.
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
“Nobody steady. I go to college at the University of Alaska as an honorary Professor of Psychology. I was going to be staying at my friend’s for the summer.”
“That sounds lovely. I also go to the University of Alaska. I’ve never seen you there. In the fall, it’ll be my last year. I probably would continue and get my master’s degree. Nowadays, it seems you need to have that type of a degree.”
“I just finished up teaching my first year. We’ll have to exchange numbers so we can go out sometime. I’d love to see you again.”
“That would be really great. It’s nice to have interesting and gorgeous friends.”
Sudhā Pandyā put her hands on my thigh and she whispered into my ear.
“You’re really hot. I am so horny. Do you want to have some fun?”
I smiled at her with a wicked grin.
It was almost like she was reading my mind.
With that, she stood up and got a blanket out of the compartment storage.
She sat down and moved her dress up.
She wasn’t wearing any panties.
She spread her legs and put the blanket over her lap.
She was one slutty bitch.
I fucked her.
Sudhā Pandyā was so wet.
I was so horny and needed to fuck her.
She was moaning softly.
I could see her erect nipples showing through her dress.
She obviously was not wearing a bra.
I whispered in her ear.
“Go into the bathroom. I am going to fuck you. I’ll follow you in.”
“Thanks,” Sudhā Pandyā too whispered in my ear.
It was dangerous to her future.
The safe bet was only to have sex with me.
Sudhā Pandyā didn’t want to lose this golden chance.
She deliberately did it.
She had put detectives on me.
As soon as Sudhā Pandyā was informed that I was on the plane she successfully managed her seat beside me.
No more Brāhmañ husband.
Sudhā Pandyā had now enough of it.
He suddenly found himself suffering from his false arrest.
Barrister Kamal Nayan Pandyā looked at his daughter curtly.
“Leave him, Sudhā. Let Manohar live. The sooner you leave Manohar, the sooner he would come out of jail.”
“I love him.” Sudhā Pandyā protested.
“You are ruining Manohar, and yourself too.”
Barrister Kamal Nayan Pandyā said sternly.
“You are killing Manohar Pāŧhak. He has already been sentenced to death penalty.”
Sudhā Pandyā surrendered.
She refused to marry Manohar Pāŧhak.
Within a week Manohar Pāŧhak was out of jail and the real culprit was apprehended.
He suddenly found himself suffering from nonstop negative circumstances.
Sudhā Pandyā left him too.
Prem Prakāsh Chaturvedī married her friend, Shakīlah Sultān, and gone abroad.
I was Sudhā Pandyā’s third effort.
She then pulled her dress down and walked into the bathroom.
I shortly followed her and she let me in.
Once inside of the very small bathroom, we kissed deep and passionately.
Our tongues danced in each other’s mouth.
She took off her dress, I pulled down my pants and sat on the toilet.
She put my cock at the entrance to her cunt and eased down on my cock.
Her cunt was so fucking wet.
I put my hands around her enormous tits and held them in my hands.
I squeezed them together and played with her hard nipples.
She put her hands on her knees and fucked my cock.
Her pussy felt so fucking good.
I bucked up inside her pussy.
“Hey Bhagvān! Oh God. I was so horny. You have the best cock. Come inside of me.” Sudhā Pandyā invited me.
I was fucking her fast.
I knew we didn’t have much time.
She then stood up and wiped the come with some toilet paper.
We kissed deep and passionately and I helped her put her dress back on.
I pulled my pants back up and she walked back to her seat.
I took a piss and then met her back on our seats.
I sat down and she had the biggest smile on her face.
“That was so hot. You have an amazing Bachhalyā cock. Thank you.”
“No problem. You’re a hot little fuck aren’t you? Do you do this a lot?”
“That was my first time. I always wanted to have sex in a plane. Thanks.”
“I had a blast. You’re one sexy babe. Hot Damn!”
I was pretty happy that we had fucked.
We exchanged numbers and agreed we’d get together once we were back.
She was just going to be visiting Florida for a few days and then she’d be back on a plane to New York for the summer.
She had gotten an internship at some fashion company.
We eventually landed and got off the plane and went through security.
I went to baggage claim to collect my bags.
I then saw Lajjā Mukherjī.
I couldn’t believe what she was wearing.
She looked so fucking hot.
She had on this little denim skirt, with a red tube top, and heels.
Her nipples were poking out of her tube top.
“Durgesh, over here!”
“Hey, Lajjā Mukherjī? How are you doing?”
I gave Lajjā Mukherjī a hug and a kiss.
She of course felt my erection in my jeans.
I just knew this was going to be an interesting day.
“You look great. You’ve really filled out. You must have been hitting the gym at college. You’ve turned into quite a handsome and strapping ever young man.”
“Lajjā Mukherjī, you’re not much older.”
We both giggled.
I was thinking she was the hottest wife on the planet.
She really could be my girlfriend.
My friend was one lucky guy.
“Let’s go home. I have a limo waiting for us.”
We walked out and got into the limo.
Lajjā Mukherjī looked amazing.
I was feeling really good since I just fucked Sudhā Pandyā in the bathroom.
But, looking at Lajjā Mukherjī was making me feel horny again.
“How is college going?”
“It was a great year.”
“That’s excellent. Your friend would be very pleased.” Lajjā Mukherjī smiled, “Do you have a girlfriend?”
“Nobody serious. Just lots of girls wanting to hook up. I was happy.”
“I bet you’re happy.”
“You look great, Lajjā Mukherjī.”
“Do you want some champagne? Open the bottle. Let’s celebrate.”
“What are we celebrating?”
I popped the champagne and poured Lajjā Mukherjī a flute of it.
“To a wonderful summer.”
We clicked glasses and she drank the bubbly champagne.
She had about three glasses.
I saw that Lajjā Mukherjī had shut her eyes.
I was just glancing over her hot body.
Eventually, we got home.
I followed Lajjā Mukherjī into the house.
“I was going to unpack and then take a shower. I’ll see you in a bit.”
“I called some of my friends to come over and take a swim. I think you’ll like them. See you later. Come down and hang out with us by the pool.”
I went upstairs and unpacked.
I then went into the shower.
While I was in there, I was thinking about Lajjā Mukherjī.
I continued washing my body and then I got out of the shower.
I wrapped a fluffy towel around myself and put my swimming trunks on.
I went downstairs and went outside.
Lajjā Mukherjī and her two friends were hanging out in the hot tub.
They were drinking and laughing and having a great time.
The sun was shining it was a rather warm day.
“Nice to meet you ladies.”
“You didn’t tell us how gorgeous he is.”
“I haven’t seen him in a while. He was very tasty looking.”
“Why didn’t you sit in the tub with us?”
“You must take your bathing suit off. We’re all naked in here.”
I took my bathing suit off and got into the water.
I was pretty stoked that I was in a hot tub with three gorgeous young ladies.
I sat next to Lajjā Mukherjī and she immediately put her hand on my Bachhalyā cock.
She was stroking me.
One of her friends was on the other side and she was playing with my balls.
It didn’t take any time whatsoever for me to get hard.
I had a raging hard on.
Now I just needed to get fucked.
Any of them would do.
“You know we could really have some fun today, Durgesh. Your friend lets me have sex when he is out of town. Usually with my girlfriends. We just won’t tell him that you and I are having sex. We’re not related anyhow. I have always wanted to have sex with you.”
“I am totally for it. Let’s do it. I won’t tell my friend a damn thing.”
“Do you want to fuck us, Durgesh?”
“Fuck yes. I’ll fuck you all. Hop on my Bachhalyā cock. Who wanted to be first?”
Lajjā Mukherjī hopped up on me in the hot tub.
She put her legs on either side of mine.
She made sure to get it all inside of her and then started to rock and move over my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund.
She was really tight.
I started to buck up inside of her.
I was squeezing on her erect Brāhmañ nipples, while we were fucking.
“Let us too fuck him.”
“You can fuck him later. He is mine right now.”
I was fucking her deep and hard.
“I am going to come. Oh fuck. I am coming.”
We kissed deep and passionately and then she hopped off me.
“Let’s take Durgesh inside. We can all suck his cock and he can lick our pussies.”
Lajjā Mukherjī laughed.
Then Smr’ti Kulkarñī asked.
“What do you mean?”
“We can suck Durgesh’s ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund as much as we want. But Durgesh would never lick our pussies.”
Ābhā Upādhyāý was furious.
“Why not? We are Brāhmañ girls. We are the most cleanest of all of women.”
“‘Brahmcharyéñ kanyā yuvānam vindaté patim’, what does it mean then?”
Lajjā Mukherjī smiled.
“That’s the problem. Traditional Brāhmañs don’t have any Vedic background for what they are doing now.”
“Are you changing your denomination now? You are talking as if you already belong to Durgesh’s Saur Sampradāý, instead of our Brāhm Sampradāý.”
Lajjā Mukherjī smiled.
Smr’ti Kulkarñī said curtly.
“What’s there to be proud of? Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī herself announced we Brahmkanyās and Brahmāñīs both need a Bachhalyā husband. She rejected a Brāhmañ husband outright for us Brahmkanyās and Brahmāñīs even. They are most unreliable for us. They can surrender to Celibacy anytime. They can choose to Indro nirjyotishā tamaso gā aduxat and opt for severities for Muslimāt. That’s what this damn Infinite BrāhmKalp is.”
We all got out of the hot tub.
Lajjā Mukherjī’s friends were all knock outs.
They all were blondes and all had implants.
I’d say they all had 38D tits.
They were all thin with blue eyes and bodies to die for.
I was pretty excited that these traditional Brāhmañ bitches were going to suck on my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund now.
I have a seven inch cock. I keep my cock and balls shaved. Smr’ti Kulkarñī and Ābhā Upādhyāý held my hand and I followed Lajjā Mukherjī into the house.
We went upstairs to her bedroom.
“I’ll ride his face and you traditional Brāhmañ girls can suck his ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund. I want to feel my husband’s Bachhalyā friend’s Bachhalyā male lips on my Communist traditional Brāhmañ snatch.”
I got comfortable on the bed.
Lajjā Mukherjī stood up on either side of my head and squatted down.
She had the prettiest cunt ever.
Each traditional Brāhmañ young lady sucked on one of my balls.
They both were on either side of my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund. Smr’ti Kulkarñī kissed and licked my Bachhalyā shaft on the left and Ābhā Upādhyāý did the same on the right side.
Smr’ti Kulkarñī was holding my one ball and sucking the other one.
It felt like heaven.
“Let me suck him now.”
Ābhā Upādhyāý took my cock out of her mouth and then Smr’ti Kulkarñī started to suck my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund.
She brought her Kulkarñī Mahñrāshŧrian Brāhmañ mouth all the way down on my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund and then all the way back up.
Smr’ti Kulkarñī really did the most amazing blow jobs.
Ābhā Upādhyāý was sucking on both of my Bachhalyā balls.
Ābhā Upādhyāý then got on top of me.
She rocked and moved on my stiff ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund. Smr’ti Kulkarñī hoped up on my face and I kissed and loved her beautiful Deshasth Brāhmañ Choot.
Ābhā Upādhyāý was fucking me really good.
Lajjā Mukherjī then pulled out my cock.
She rubbed some lube on Ābhā Upādhyāý’s Upādhyāý Brāhmañ ass and slid my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund into her Upādhyāý Brāhmañ ass.
Lajjā Mukherjī held Ābhā Upādhyāý’s ass and I fucked her.
Ābhā Upādhyāý started to orgasm around my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund and then I blew my load in her Upādhyāý Brāhmañ Choot.
“Well that was lots of fun.”
“Fucking yes. It was a ball.”
I think we’re going to have an amazing summer. I think you’ll be our permanent boy toy now.
“How does that sound?”
“It sounds like a dream. I’d love to fuck you beautiful traditional Brāhmañ ladies whenever you want. I was sure it’ll be an awesome summer. Hell, I’ll feel like Charlie and his angels. Remember that silly show?”
We all giggled.
Lajjā Mukherjī went to take a shower and got ready for bed.
I went to my room, watched some television and eventually fell asleep.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Gotrbhid Mahā Bhārat
Shūdrasý tu Savarñaiv Nānyā Bhāryā vidhīyaté
‘Jāti Pānti Poochhé Nahin Koī,
Hari ko bhajé so Hari kā Hoī’
1/18: Ādi Parv
Coasting to a stop in front of the house, Nishikānt Joshī was surprised to see his wife’s Green Mercedes parked in the driveway.
Urmi Upādhyāý had found work as a teller in a branch office of a big downtown bank a couple of years ago.
She was a hard worker and had already received a number of pay raises.
The hours were okay. Urmi Upādhyāý only had to work half-days on Saturday, and even that only one in four weekends.
This Saturday wasn’t on her schedule, though, and today wasn’t her day off even if it had been.
Nishikānt Joshī didn’t know why Urmi Upādhyāý was home.
It concerned him because it was so out of character for her.
He walked quickly around the side of the house and in through the kitchen door.
The door hinges were well lubricated.
After all, Nishikānt Joshī was a building contractor.
It was a matter of professional pride to make sure small repairs around the house were taken care of immediately.
Everything was well maintained.
He liked things that way.
He hated squeaks, drawers that didn’t open, windows that didn’t close right…things like that drove Nishikānt Joshī crazy.
Neither the screen door nor the kitchen door itself made any perceptible noise when Nishikānt Joshī opened them.
The couple he could see through the doorway into the living room ostensibly wouldn’t have heard Nishikānt Joshī anyway.
Urmi Upādhyāý and I were too involved with each other.
Nishikānt Joshī froze in his tracks when he saw Urmi Upādhyāý and me.
He’d never contemplated seeing his wife in my arms, even kissing me.
And he’d surely never thought to see me cupping Urmi Upādhyāý’s bare right breast and working the nipple to a dark red erection with a rapidly moving thumb.
Urmi Upādhyāý was naked to the waist.
Nishikānt Joshī saw her blouse and bra draped across the couch just beyond her.
Her partial nakedness said the hand job was only a preliminary.
She brought her hand up to my chest and ground her lower body against mine.
“Was it worth the wait?” she asked seductively.
A red-hot fury engulfed Nishikānt Joshī.
He didn’t think; he couldn’t.
He could only react.
One moment he was frozen in shock.
With his next heartbeat, he was moving swiftly forward, striding purposefully through the kitchen and partway into the living room.
Planting his left foot solidly on the carpet, he brought his right one up in a tight arc that ended in my crotch.
At the last moment, I sensed something behind me…a whisper of Nishikānt Joshī’s shoes on the carpet perhaps, or his looming presence.
She probably wouldn’t have been hurt if I’d kept still.
It was only the steel-reinforced tip of the boot that slammed into Nishikānt Joshī’s butt but it was more than enough.
Sensitive nerve endings fired instantly, sending simultaneous pain signals to Nishikānt Joshī’s badly confused brain.
For a long moment Nishikānt Joshī didn’t have any breath to scream.
It had been driven from his body by the sudden intense pain in Nishikānt Joshī’s abdomen.
Nishikānt Joshī stumbled against the sofa and clung to it for an instant.
Her normally pleasant features were twisted into a rictus of tormented rage.
She’d been planning to do further damage to Nishikānt Joshī in front of me but it was abruptly clear nothing more was required.
Nishikānt Joshī began to scream in a high-pitched voice that filled the room.
He collapsed to the floor and began to writhe in agony.
The excruciating pain was overwhelming, worthy of the Marquis de Sade’s most inventive tortures.
Nishikānt Joshī was unable to do anything but scream so piercingly he was close to rupturing his vocal cord.
Nevertheless, Nishikānt Joshī saw his wife’s breasts bounce wildly on her chest as her body jerked uncontrollably.
Her lower body was exposed, though covered by her pantyhose. He could see her palms pressed tightly against her vulva.
My ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund was still jutting obscenely, yet still immensely attractive from my zipper.
There hadn’t been enough time for the blood to leave it.
The vulgar display sickened Nishikānt Joshī but something else was wrong too.
He looked down.
To his horror, he saw the bulge in his work pants.
He realized his cock was hard, perhaps harder, longer, and thicker than it had ever been before.
A deep shame overcame the anger in his mind, blanking the fury in the space between two heartbeats.
He was mortified.
His own body was betraying him.
It wasn’t possible; he was not that kind of man.
His roars, born of renewed fury and deep humiliation, blended with the agonized shrieks of himself.
It was one thing that Urmi Upādhyāý, Nishikānt Joshī’s twenty eight years old extremely beautiful Upādhyāý Brāhmañ wife and I were prepared for Nishikānt Joshī’s every potential attack already, yet it was quite another thing that his Joshī Brāhmañ penis was appreciating what Urmi Upādhyāý was doing with me.
How the hell it happened?
Does it mean in this Infinite BrāhmKalp Nishikānt Joshī’s such intense humiliation was absolutely a normal event?
Only because Nishikānt Joshī and Urmi Upādhyāý were traditional Brāhmañs and Durgesh was a Bachhalyā?
Durgesh was already fucking now the entire beautiful Brāhmañ houseladies of Nishikānt Joshī’s household.
Nishikānt Joshī had as if fallen from sky.
“Supriyā Bhābhī, you mean… you mean…”
“Yes!” Instead of Supriyā Bhārgav, Nishikānt Joshī’s elder brother, Karuñākānt Joshī, said, “Your Supriyā Bhābhī is correct, Nishikānt. You keep forgetting, it’s Infinite BrāhmKalp now. We Brāhmañs are entrusted now to greater duties.”
“Indro nirjyotishā tamaso gā aduxat?” Nishikānt Joshī asked sarcastically.
“Oh,” Karuñākānt Joshī said looking at his younger brother sympathetically, “Why?”
“Anything wrong in it?” Karuñākānt Joshī asked curtly.
“You were never satisfied with Supriyā Bhābhī.” Nishikānt Joshī said bitterly, “Her sophisticated behavior was never suitable to you. You were always interested, instead, in her ultramodern beautiful Musalmān lady friends.”*
“Who are you to discuss my married life activities and my sex activities? You are my younger brother, not my wife. Hinduism/Ved never allow any houseperson to interfere in the married life of another houseperson. It’s the only practical way to keep a joint family survive with ‘Modmānau Svastakau’, ‘Modmānau Své gr’hé’.”
“I think Imām Muħammad Ħasan is one of the greatest persons of nowadays.”
“Because he has surrendered the entire beautiful Musalmān houseladies of his household to Durgesh?” Nishikānt Joshī laughed ironically, “I never thought you have fallen to this level. I’m sorry to find you too salute the rising sun to this extent.”
“Chief Justice Vishwambhar Sharmā Supreme Court Multiverse is perhaps too a cuckold in your bright opinion, Mr. Nishikānt Joshī.” Karuñākānt Joshī also laughed equally ironically, rather more ironically.*
The environment surrounding a life form whether the life form is a male or a female always needs fresh base pairs for the survival of that life form.
To fulfill this need of the environment the life form starts to have sexual need.
The more intense the need of fresh base pairs of the environment the more intense the sexual need of the life form.
He never liked it.
They were traditional Brāhmañs.
Every traditional society has some traditions out of date it’s careless to change and update itself.
The Pseudo Musalmīn were the worst example of it.
They were too adamant to keep their outdated traditions that they refused to use their common sense even if it were against their enormously outdated traditions.
To kill the other societies for one’s own survival was a tradition among then uncivilized societies once.
The Pseudo Musalmīn were foolishly still adamant to practice it, because they never tried to understand it isn’t needed anymore.
The Democracy has not only its solution but the fair competition too to the survival of the fittest system of life.*
The Infinite BrāhmKalp had started to project its time cycle.
Despite the fact that the ever last Kaliyug itself had its time cycle unfinished for as long as 4, 27, 000 years.
I understood very well it was only a generous courtesy, not any invitation, or seduction, at all.
I was the son in law of the house.
Everyone was stunned.
“Well, I think we should talk first, Shuchi.”
“That’s a very good idea, Bahūrānī.” Pragyākānt Joshī greeted the suggestion very warm heartedly.
“I can’t help, Ammī,” Shuchi Joshī smiled naughtily, “if you were a cougar once.”
“Shuchi,” Pragyākānt Joshī said curtly, “you must be ashamed of yourself for the comment on your own Ammī.”
“It’s all right, PK.” Sheikħzādī Ůzrah Sheikħ smiled bravely, “Our children have different morals from me. You knew about my ultramodern morals and you married me with them. They didn’t.”
“Nevertheless, Ůzrah,” Pragyākānt Joshī said curtly, “Even if she doesn’t appreciate your morals, being a Brahmkanyā she must respect at least Imām Nārīm Sukr’té dadhāt and Indro nirjyotishā tamaso gā aduxat. She isn’t a child anymore. She is twenty eight years old and a PhD now.”
“Sure,” Shuchi Joshī said, “I never criticized Ammī for her past. Nevertheless, I would never allow her past to affect my own life adversely.”*
No, he wasn’t a bad man.
That was the problem.
Their overhumanity itself was a greatest enemy of all of them.
They were good to the extent to be harmful to themselves.
“I know, Supriyā,”
Nevertheless, he couldn’t blame the traditional Brāhmañs even.
They were also normal men.
They too wanted to enjoy their married life.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Gotrbhid Mahā Bhārat
Shūdrasý tu Savarñaiv Nānyā Bhāryā vidhīyaté
‘Jāti Pānti Poochhé Nahin Koī,
Hari ko bhajé so Hari kā Hoī’
1/18: Ādi Parv
I was wildly kissing and thrashing my face in her tits and groping her gorgeous, twenty eight years old, exquisite, bottom with both my hands kneading her gorgeous, twenty eight years old, exquisite, perfectly round, firm, young, Bhārgav Brāhmañ buttocks.
She was lying on top of me when we finally came to be face to face, and she planted another deep kiss on me, clutching both my wrists over my head while pinning me to the bed.
She whispered in my ear,
Then, with a pregnant pause, she whispered in my other ear,
“And it’s a process of pleasure.”
Her soft voice and breath in my ears sent shivers down my spine and gave me goose flesh.
Calmed by this, I lay motionless, glad to let her lead the way.
My ego wasn’t even slightly affected.
As she kissed my neck, she caressed my arms and chest softly, barely even touching.
First it was the tongue, then a kiss, and then another little bit of tongue.
That was her technique as she worked her way down.
“Fātimaaaaaaaaaaah Jalāaaaaaaaaaaal,” Imāmzādī Sheikħzādī Al Åāyeshah Al Jalāl refused violently to accept her correction, “You aren’t Ramā Bhārgav actually. Your damnfool Bhārgav Brāhmañ father, Bhārgav Chakrvartī Dashānan Bhārgav, calls you with that ridiculous name. You are Fātimah Jalāl. Understand? That’s how I named you.”
I felt her mouth and tongue on my ball bag.
That’s how they win ever immensely capable Bachhalyās.
I was blasted away by this!
It wasn’t that I’d never been sucked off before, but I was still under the impression that you had to work on a girl for a long time to get her to suck you.
A blow job on a first time was a foreign idea to me.
I’d always had to wait in relationships for a long time before a girl would bestow oral pleasure upon me.
My youth and my still ignorance were apparent to me even as it was happening.
Then, taking a long, slow, deep, fluid swallow, she made my manhood disappear once again.
Down, down all the way, down deep, and then holding me there for a long second.
Coming up in ultra-slow motion.
The way Ramā Bhārgav lifted my scrotum while she made long, slow passes up and down my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund did something to intensify the sensation.
Then, all at once, she started to ratchet up both the suction and speed, bobbing her beautiful Bhārgav Brāhmañ head more vigorously and sucking down my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund with more Bhārgav Brāhmañ energy.
“If you want to remain confined exclusively to Durgesh only, it’s all right, Fātimah Jalāl,”
As she sucked me, she began to caress and tickle the underside of my seed bag, slowly roaming to the little place where the scrotum ends.
This was a new sensation, and even my utmost experienced mind was getting in the way again.
Part of me was saying to myself internally,
“You can’t let her touch your hips! You’re a man!”
Both sides of my brain came to an agreement:
They agreed to stop her hand and the blowjob as well for fear that I might cum before I got to fuck her.
Covered in sweat, I lightly directed her head up until she took my tool out of her mouth.
She looked up with her beautiful eyes and quickly got the hint.
She arose and then lay beside me.
I turned to her and asked,
“Do you want this?” as I placed her hand on my stiff Bachhalyā member.
“Yes,” she said, never looking away from me.
“Then what shall we call it?” I teased in an attempt at sexy pillow talk.
“Your cock,” she answered in her soft alluring way.
“My pussy,” she replied.
Almost involuntarily I blurted out my first sexy talk.
Feeling relaxed and unashamed to talk sexy felt liberating and free.
In fact, I liked it and loved the fact the she was getting off hearing me say those words.
She talked right back at me.
“You, the man I fuck, are older than me when all I want is your hard, experienced Bachhalyā cock. Sure, you have money, and you can keep it! I have my own money too not to be dependent on you financially. My ever profound feminist Ammī, Imāmzādī Sheikħzādī Al Åāyeshah Al Jalāl, hates immensely that any of her countless daughters be ever dependent on any male whether financially or otherwise.”
“So you don’t mind that I’m sixty six now,” It was a grave question, asked equally gravely.
“No, I want to have you because you’re sixty six,” she too looked at me gravely.
Her dominant personality was taking control of me again.
No woman however beautiful she were had succeeded ever in controlling me.
Was it because I was more Shaktimān, full of Cosmic energy, than anyone of them?
“I’m twenty nine,” Ramā Bhārgav said, shifting her beautiful young Bhārgav Brāhmañ eyes toward my ever handsome ever young utmost experienced Bachhalyā hard-on and gesturing at it with her chin, “and you don’t seem to mind. Why should your age bother me? It is Infinite BrāhmKalp now. Is it not?”
I spread her thick, shapely legs.
I slid my sixty six years old, utmost experienced legendary Bachhalyā Lund into her hot, wet Bhārgav Brāhmañ Choot, wrapping my arms around her for leverage, then launching myself into her as hard as I could, finishing the move with a hump and snap of my pelvis.
I would repeat this over and over till the end – A power fuck as hard and fast as I could.
The Infinite BrāhmKalp needed it.
This was hard, hot and wild sex.
It was all I knew.
It seemed to be working.
Again, in my expertise in the art of fucking, I managed to find just what she wanted.
Too instead, were trying to improve themselves constantly.
The moans and screams were nice to hear.
“You like getting fucked, don’t you!” I grunted.
Our bodies, now dripping in sweat, made a slapping sound when my hips collided with hers.
Then another series of moans and screams of passion accompanied that wonderful slapping and slurping sound our bodies made.
Now, I was in control, and she had lost her composure. She was overwhelmed with pleasure, and could not form the words to speak, only breathless moans and coos.
Wanting a change of pace, I withdrew from her and nudged her to flip over.
“I’m going to take you from behind,” I told her in my sexiest Bachhalyā tone.
The view, from behind her, was amazing.
She was facing the headboard during our doggie style romp.
After a while, without explanation, she slid forward and my tool fell out of her honey pot.
“What’s wrong?” I inquired.
“Nothing … just a second,” the words barely escaped her mouth.
She was leaning forward and reaching for something.
By the headboard, there was a nightstand with a lamp.
I thought for a second her aim was to shut or dim the lights.
Instead, she was reaching for the little knob on the drawer of the nightstand.
What she retrieved out of the drawer almost made my heart stop.
A full size tube of K-Y jelly was now in her hand, and she was handing it back to me as the moment of surprise and joy struck me like a ton of bricks.
Was this what I thought it was?
I thought I had better check first but didn’t want to scare away the moment.
Thinking quickly, I managed to play dumb:
“No!” she said, again with authority in her sultry voice. Then she uttered the words I thought I’d never hear Ramā Bhārgav say to me: “I want you to fuck me up the ass!”
I gazed upon her welcoming, sweat-soaked Bhārgav Brāhmañ buttocks shining like two hot buttered globes. Ramā Bhārgav, the Brahm Padminī, peered back at me over her shoulder, still on hands and knees while I was visually taking in the beauty of her round firm Bhārgav Brāhmañ ass and its lovely crevice, following the crevice down to the wrinkled pucker of her Bhārgav Brāhmañ asshole and her battered Bhārgav Brāhmañ Choot lips, glistening and dripping with her sweet Bhārgav Brāhmañ honey.
I squeezed some K-Y on to the head of my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund and slowly spread it down its length.
Rubbing her waist and lower back was a sensual experience for me, too.
This allowed me a chance keeping the mood sexy and erotic.
I then got the K-Y jelly ready.
The mystery and darkness of it , the naughty taboo of it, made me hot and want to get down to business.
I squeezed out a liberal glob of it and placed it on her Bhārgav Brāhmañ bung hole, plastering her rectal pucker, caressing and spreading it in circular strokes, slowly putting more and more pressure on her asshole until the tip of my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund was in it just past the first knuckle.
With slow, steady pressure, I worked my lubed ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund in her utmost beautiful Bhārgav Brāhmañ ass as far as it would go.
“OHH, Ohh that’s it right there.” Ramā Bhārgav, the Brahm Padminī, instructed. “Keep your ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund there …… feel my Bhārgav Brāhmañ anal muscles relax and open slowly,” Ramā Bhārgav added, now fully enjoying the insertion. “Now your push your ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund more, let the half of it go inside,” she moaned.
I noticed that she never enjoyed anally the withdrawing of my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund more than the forward thrusts.
Satisfied that Ramā Bhārgav‘s nether region was lubed and loosened adequately, I readied myself with more lube and was ready to mount Ramā Bhārgav, the Brahm Padminī, stealing another peek at her Bhārgav Brāhmañ sphincter, now visibly more open than before.
I had a little trouble getting in her backdoor properly, despite my utmost experience.
Ramā Bhārgav reached back, got hold of my erect ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund and guided me up in to her ever beautiful Bhārgav Brāhmañ ass, a procedure that always made me horny when I saw it happen.
I penetrated Ramā Bhārgav deeper and deeper until I was balls deep, and the pink Bhārgav Brāhmañ ring of her sphincter expanded fully accommodating my entire ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund.
It was so tight and hot.
It felt nice.
“Is that good?” I asked. “Does my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund feel good up your young twenty nine years old Bhārgav Brāhmañ ass?” I smiled proudly.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Gotrbhid Mahā Bhārat
Shūdrasý tu Savarñaiv Nānyā Bhāryā vidhīyaté
‘Jāti Pānti Poochhé Nahin Koī,
Hari ko bhajé so Hari kā Hoī’
1/18: Ādi Parv
He was adamant.
His father and grandfather both were Brahmarshis in HVSI.
Kaikasī Chaturvedī was smart enough to understand her eldest son’s mood perfectly.
She masterminded her entire planning keeping his every potential step carefully in consideration.*
When Muħammad got engaged, it was a bit of a relief for me. Muħammad had been miserable for years after Muħammad’s wife had deserted him for me, three weeks before his Sixty Sixth birthday.
Now he seemed to be back to a vague semblance of his former self.
I was glad.
My friend, Al Muħammad Al Åbdullah, had been through a lot.
It was more troublesome for me, because his wife had deserted Al Muħammad Al Åbdullah for me.
“I’m very sorry, Muħammad,” I said sincerely, “I never thought she was interested in me sexually.”
Al Muħammad Al Åbdullah laughed.
“Infinite BrāhmKalp has come. Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan says there were only two couples in BrāhmKalp, Brāhmañ Muslimāt and Bachhalyā Brahmkanyās Bachhalyā Brahmāñīs. I think my wife was afraid of herself that Niranjan could not win her from me. She preferred you on Niranjan.”
“Niranjan Sharmā.” Al Muħammad Al Åbdullah said, “You know. He is Waħīdah’s Kħālāzād cousin.”
Al Muħammad Al Åbdullah sighed.
“Niranjan Sharmā is close enough to Bhārgav
I had, of course, met Muħammad’s fiancée a few times when she’d stayed at our house, but after a while, Muħammad asked me if I’d be all right if Zakiyah moved in with us.
There was concern on Muħammad’s face, but it was unnecessary.
I was a quietly confident ever young man, who was simply happy for Muħammad to have found someone.
But when Muħammad came to pick him up from HVSI, I did not expect to find what I did.
When I climbed up into the back of the four-by-four, there was a dazzlingly attractive slim Musalmān redhead sitting inside, smiling at me. She was about twenty eight years old, dressed in a disturbingly low-cut turquoise top and green miniskirt.
Her legs were covered in nylons.
“Hi Durgesh,” said Muħammad.
“Durgesh,” Zakiyah smiled at me, “this is my daughter, Al Jalal Al Fātimah.”
“Hi,” Al Jalal Al Fātimah had an amazing smile.
She gently shook my hand and I couldn’t help but smile seductively.
I was completely amused to female company – especially such beautiful Musalmān female company.
Musalmān females were my specialty.
Even the BrāhmKalp could not take beautiful Musalmān houseladies away from me.
Yet, I was an exception.
Waħīdah preferred me on Niranjan Sharmā.
Waħīdah loved Durgesh.
Niranjan Sharmā was surprised.
“I don’t think so, Niranjan Sharmā.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s normal.” Niranjan Sharmā interrupted Bhārgav Chakrvartī Dashānan Bhārgav, “In BrāhmKalp every Brāhmañ girl is a Brāhmañ’s sister according to Bhr’gu Āchār Samhitā. She is not marriageable with a Brāhmañ. The Brāhmañs are required to marry Muslimāt and Muslimāt only to devote themselves to religious severities for their entire life.”
“I wanted to remind you it.”
His tone was somewhat curt to Niranjan Sharmā.
Niranjan Sharmā looked at him helplessly.
“Nevertheless, the Ārsh Sadan of HVSI is supporting Bhr’gu Āchār Samhitā, not Durgesh.”
The phone rang and she reached over to answer it.
“I was just…” she paused and looked at the TV, “…working on something.”
“It’ll only take a few minutes, I forgot a file I kinda need for work. Can you go on my computer and email it to me. It’s -”
“Now, now, I’m not going to remember. Just gimmie a second and I’ll go to your room and pick up the phone there, ok?”
Sītā Bhārgav made her way to the second floor of the big house she shared with me and her father Bhārgav Chakrvartī Dashānan Bhārgav.
Sītā Bhārgav turned on my computer and picked up the phone in my room.
I was giving her instructions but we were having trouble communicating.
“And you searched for the filename? You’re sure you spelt it correctly…”
“Hmmm…” I muttered. “I guess I don’t absolutely have to have it…um…oh, Damn it! Of course!”
“Oh…oh geez, sorry Sītā dear.”
“Sorry about it. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.”
I laughed too.
“Three in one?”
“All in one, you Anant Brahmkanyā Ramañ, Anant Brahmāñī Ramañ.”
“Yeah, it’s just that I totally forgot something. Here’s what you need to do…” I explained to my Bhārgav Brāhmañ beloved of thirty years how to unlock the hidden and encrypted files on my computer using a password.
She sent off the email.
I confirmed I received it.
She hung up the phone and let me get back to work.
She hesitated for a moment.
What was there to go to except boring TV or a stack of books she didn’t really want to read, or a bed where sleep lately was elusive?
Didn’t she see something interesting a moment ago?
She opened up the list of files again.
Sure enough, there was the previously-hidden ‘Work Stuff’ folder they struggled so long to find.
And beside it some other uninteresting hidden folders were now revealed, like ‘HVSI Reports’ and ‘Bank Files’.
‘Pr0n Flicks’ and ‘Pics of Slutz’ and ‘XXX Stories’.
‘No,’ she thought, ‘they can’t be. Well…well, maybe he’s just got one or two things on here…I’m sure there’s a lot of peer pressure to know a bit about that sort of thing…’
She opened up ‘Pr0n Flicks’.
The list of files was so long it scrolled down past the bottom of the screen; titles like ‘Anal Trainer’ and ‘Ass Worship’ and ‘Buttman’s Big Butt Backdoor Babes’.
She double-clicked on a file and the starting credits began to play, a rapid-fire sequence of tits and ass and cocksucking and fucking and pussy eating and assfucking and double-penetration and cum splashing everywhere and and and…
She clicked it closed.
She went to the ‘Pics of Slutz’ folder.
As with the other folder, along with the main list of files there were subdirectories.
The one right at the top was named ‘AAAAA HOT DAMN IT – THE BEST – WHACKOFF SLIDESHOW’.
Here she found explicit, hardcore digital images.
Her Bachhalyā lover, Durgesh, had pictures of beautiful Musalmān houseladies, Christian houseladies, Jew houseladies and Brāhmañ houseladies even, in leather, in rubber, in lace, in chains, and of course in nothing at all.
“I would have never of suspected,” she said to herself, “I would have never have known.” Then she gave a little smirk. “No wonder he likes computers so much.”
Among the folders I made were ‘Anal Fuckfests’, ‘Mind Control’ and ‘Ashvinātam is Best’.
She knew about computers herself.
Who doesn’t in this immensely advanced Infinite BrāhmKalp?
Of course it was a long username.
It wasn’t possible even.
Bhr’gu Āchār Samhitā was the paramount constitution here.
It was legally a tremendously punishable crime and morally an immensely despised great sin.
“Param Brahmarshi Lord Bhagvān Bhr’gu didn’t go through immense religious severities to marry Bhārgavīs with Bachhalyās.” Bhārgav Chakrvartī Dashānan Bhārgav said furiously, “Bhārgavīs deserve Durgesh himself, no other Bachhalyā even.”
Vibhīshañ Bhārgav had argued,
“There were no Bachhalyās then anywhere when Param Brahmarshi Lord Bhagvān Bhr’gu had gone through immense religious severities to get infinite extremely beautiful daughters. Durgesh was the only husband available to them. Hence it’s a wrong argument that Param Brahmarshi Lord Bhagvān Bhr’gu didn’t go through immense religious severities to marry Bhārgavīs with Bachhalyās. He himself prepared Bhr’gu Āchār Samhitā, ‘Bhr’gu Shāstr Samvidhān’, constituting Brahmkanyās to marry with the Bachhalyās. There isn’t any exception for Bhārgavīs in Bhr’gu Āchār Samhitā, Bhr’gu Shāstr Samvidhān, that Bhārgavīs have exclusive rights on the rest of the Brahmkanyās to be Brahm Jagdambās everyone.”
Vibhīshañ Bhārgav was defeated tremendously.
Nevertheless, she was jealous of beautiful Musalmān houseladies now immensely.
Bhārgavīs were no exception.
She’d gone through much of the rest of my room, and found more things to pique her interest.
In the corners of my closet and in the backs of drawers she’d found recordable CD’s with suggestive labels, porn tapes and DVD’s, and stacks of magazines.
As she listened to me move around in another part of the house, Dr. Sītā Bhārgav was in her bedroom behind a closed door, kneeling over on her bed and flipping through a magazine, ‘Ass-Fuckers Vol.5 No.2’, which she was sure I wouldn’t miss from my large stack.
One of her hands was between her legs rubbing her pussy, and occasionally her fingers would reach farther, to rub the sensitive crinkle of her asshole, which would make her whole body shudder.
She was always very conservative, wearing perfect business attire; usually pantsuits that always left as little visible as possible of her neck, arms, and legs.
Her hair was always tied up in a bun or back in a tight ponytail, and her shoes were always sensible.
Not that this was foremost in my mind when I saw her, but it was the way she had always dressed since I had remembered, even back before her and her husband had split up.
It was as though Dr. Sītā Bhārgav were another species from the females I saw at HVSI, on TV, or in the pornography I consumed, the ones so willing to flaunt themselves and their sexuality just to get attention.
I grunted, and out of the corner of my eye saw her hauling some bags up to her room.
I didn’t glance over for a while, but when I did I was shocked and couldn’t break my stare.
I always thought Sītā Bhārgav had a classical face; fine lines and delicate features, a little reminiscent of the Mona Lisa, or of Greek and Roman sculptures I’d seen. She’d always worn big, practical glasses, her new pairs just like her old ones, but now for the first time I saw her wearing a sleek pair with tortoise-shell rims, that reminded me of cat’s eyes.
Her hair was sandy-brown, and at the top of her head it fell straight, but then began to curl at the level of her eyes.
She wore it untied now, and it fell around her shoulders.
Her excellent exquisite thirty years old Bhārgav Brāhmañ body, with exceptions, was slim; especially her crane-like neck, her delicate wrists, and her ankles where the contours of bone showed clearly.
But nature had also designed her body so that her breasts were large and full, and were supported by strong shoulders, and her hips and ass were big and full as well, supported by thick muscular smooth bhbr thighs.
Every daughter of Bhārgav Chakrvartī Dashānan Bhārgav was a specimen of exquisite excellent Bhārgav Brāhmañ beauty.
Now, she wore a flimsy wool cardigan, rose pink, with a knit loose enough to clearly show the bra underneath, and a plunging open neck that showed off much of her shoulders and the cleavage of her upper chest.
A cream-colored skirt stopped just above her knees, but had a slit up the side where I could see the top of a smoky brown stocking.
Her feet rested in shoes with a medium heel.
“Wow,” I said as I walked into her room, and then paused, searching for any other words. “Um…are we having company over or something?”
“Oh geez, I feel kinda out of it then.” I looked down to my white socks, jeans, and rock-band T-shirt. “Do you want me to change?”
Dr. Sītā Bhārgav turned away to continue her work, and I felt my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund involuntarily pulse and twitch against the fly of my jeans.
Dinner proceeded somewhat normally, though my eyes would often wander to Dr. Sītā Bhārgav’s chest, trying to make out the details of her bra, and picture how her chest would look without the cardigan draped over it.
I’d snap my head away when I became conscious of my thoughts, but then my eyes would also sometimes drift to look down through the glass table in the kitchen, looking down at Dr. Sītā Bhārgav’s legs and the way she held one sleek leg against the other, and something inside of me flamed up when Dr. Sītā Bhārgav’s stockinged legs would rub together as she subtly shifted position.
I was looking out the window at the backyard when hands reached under my arms and wrapped themselves around my chest.
“Yow! Hey Sītā, you scared me!”
“I just wanted to say thanks for being kind to me.” She gave me a long hard squeeze. “I’m so lucky to have such a good husband.”
She placed a kiss on the back of my neck.
We were both quiet.
Each one burned on my neck like a gunshot.
Palm flat on my chest, one of her hands began to work its way down over my stomach.
My heart hammered as I realized her hand, if it continued, would discover my pulsing ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund.
I slammed my hips against the counter, crouching down a little so the bulge of my crotch was hidden from view.
She gave a disappointed sigh.
“So,” she said softly, into my ear, “what’re you doing afterwards?”
“Um…I gotta.. go to work, Sītā,” I smilrd, and glanced at the clock.
Long after she had gone, my body missed her warmth pressing against my back.
When I got home late in the evening and turned on my computer monitor, there was a full-screen picture I was sure I had not left there.
A naked young woman, nasty lustful passion on her face, had my large ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund buried deep in her Bhārgav Brāhmañ ass.
The woman whose picture was there was Dr. Sītā Bhārgav’s younger, twenty eight years old sister, Ramā Bhārgav.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Gotrbhid Mahā Bhārat
Shūdrasý tu Savarñaiv Nānyā Bhāryā vidhīyaté
‘Jāti Pānti Poochhé Nahin Koī,
Hari ko bhajé so Hari kā Hoī’
1/18: Ādi Parv
That was what Sheikħ Al Ůmer Al Aħmad Al Zabīr is actually good at.
Al Kuwait Creations were almost similar to the Gāndhār of Mahābhārat period, if there was such a period.
He still didn’t know whether there were any Mahābhārat war, or not.
The Westerners never accepted there was.
They always claimed it was only a mythological tale, nothing else.
Yet, Sheikħ Al Ůmer Al Aħmad Al Zabīr wasn’t so sure now.
If Durgesh’s Time Cycle Theory were incorrect, how the hell was it possible for him to go in the Trétā era ever?
He met his real father Brahm Nārāyañ Mukherjī there.
Brahm Nārāyañ Mukherjī was exactly his identical.
Sheikħ Al Ůmer Al Aħmad Al Zabīr found he has so many real and half Brāhmañ sisters in Trétā.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan once more proved herself correct.
“If you lick your wife, Imāmzādī Sheikħzādī Al Sābirah Al Wahāb, her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt
I mean, after Durgesh fucks her, you may get rid of your entire shortcomings gradually, eventually, ultimately.”
Sheikħ Al Ůmer Al Aħmad Al Zabīr smiled cunningly.
“Kħātoon-e-Jannat Hazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu Tåālā ånahā, reincarnated, you want to cuckold me too?”
“Do I need to, Sheikħ Al Ůmer Al Aħmad Al Zabīr?” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, Kħātoon-e-Jannat Hazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu Tåālā ånahā, reincarnated, smiled sarcastically.
Sheikħ Al Ůmer Al Aħmad Al Zabīr watched the utmost cunning young woman he had ever encountered with, in his entire life.
He could never decide who was using whom.
Sometimes he thought Durgesh was using Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, the Kħātoon-e-Jannat Hazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu Tåālā ånahā, reincarnated, successfully, without letting her even realize what he was doing with her.
Yet, sometimes Sheikħ Al Ůmer Al Aħmad Al Zabīr himself doubted his own theory.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was getting more from Durgesh than Durgesh was getting from Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, the Kħātoon-e-Jannat Hazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu Tåālā ånahā, reincarnated.
How then Durgesh was using her?*
Mahārānī Rājmātā Kuntī Chaturvédī was neither Mahārānī nor Rājmātā then.
She was Rājkumārī Kuntī Chaturvédī only.
What a tragedy!
She had to leave her son, Karñ Kauntéý Chaturvédī, only because he was an offspring from her premarital affair.
She had numerous Musalmān lady friends that had their premarital affairs with Durgesh mostly, or at least with other capable Hindus.
They were even bold enough to revolt against their society.
Ayesha Ahmad, Dr. Ali Sina’s co-author, was a born Musalmān lady.
Yet, she bravely wrote against Islam.
Here, the traditional Paurāñik Brāhmañ of Chaturvédī Creations were obstinate not to let any Brāhmañ young lady have any premarital affair.
She was expected to be a virgin obstinately until she wasn’t married.
Rājkumārī Kuntī Chaturvédī loved Durgesh, a Bachhalyā.
Despite a large number of restrictions, she enjoyed premarital sex with Durgesh.
She deliberately conceived Durgesh’s child in her womb.
Gave birth to a handsome male child clandestinely with the help of ever revolting Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan.
She had been extolled far beyond her deserts and the incident was never mentioned.*
My eyes were grave watching her.
Narendr Modi is being credited for it.
How excellently the time cycle, the Kālchakr, was working!
There were Brahm Apsarās again prominent in Bollywood.
Katrina Kaif was number one, but it needed Saba Qamar too.
Maryam Tanvīr Ålī is also one of them.
When she had her fingers cleaned off Dr. Sītā Bhārgav began to collect my cum from her chin and sucked it off them.
“Take off your shirt,” Dr. Sītā Bhārgav said as I immediately pulled my shirt off and sat naked before her on the couch.
She had seen me in bathing suits around the pool many times.
Naturally, she knew pretty well what my Bachhalyā male body looked like, but now as I sat before her basking in the afterglow of the first orgasm I didn’t give myself.
I looked sexy and appealing in a way she never would have dreamed possible.
Truly I was a fine man.
“Are you ready for more of your present?”
“There’s more?” I replied softly in excitement.
Her exercising had kept her fit and she only had a small stomach that she knew was much smaller than any other women she knew her own age.
Her heavy tits even hadn’t started relenting to her age.
They were still where they rode on her chest.
“There is as much of this as you want.”
I smiled at her words.
All feelings of wrong were gone now and were replaced only by a craving for more of this intense sensation.
She had forgotten how excitable I could be and how little control she had the first few times I fucked.
She let out another cry as started to cum inside her pussy for the first time ever.
The sensation of her Bhārgav Brāhmañ cum bathing my still in action stiff Bachhalyā Lund and the feeling of my body reacting so strongly to her orgasm triggered an orgasm in me too that was stronger and longer than any Dr. Sītā Bhārgav could remember having.
Dr. Sītā Bhārgav clutched me tightly to her Bhārgav Brāhmañ tits and drove my Bachhalyā Lund as far inside her Bhārgav Brāhmañ Choot as Dr. Sītā Bhārgav could, as her Bhārgav Brāhmañ Choot exploded into a long series of spasms and twitches.
It seemed like there wasn’t a single part of her Bhārgav Brāhmañ body that wasn’t affected by her orgasm and when it finally passed Dr. Sītā Bhārgav sank against her Bachhalyā lover in complete relief and release.
“That was amazing.”
I sat up and looked at her before answering,
“I’m honored. Yet it can also be so much more.”
After my words she moved to me and we met in a new kind of kiss.
This was the deep, exploring kiss of lovers and not at all like any kiss we had previously shared.
We remained in this position kissing and just basking in being naked together for a long time.
Neither of us knew nor cared to.
She fucked me this time more vigorously.
There was a third round too.
Then there was a fourth round.
Then there was a fifth, sixth and seventh round.
I stood, took her hand, and gravely followed her down the hallway.
My room was just a shade bigger than her own but had the same king sized bed her room had.
Dr. Sītā Bhārgav didn’t know why, but something about being with me like this in my own room surrounded by the various posters of athletes, bands, and nearly naked women made the sensation more intense for her.
Since I never made my bed we didn’t even need to move the sheets as we crawled in together.
By the time she had them over my face I began kissing them.
She rolled over onto her back letting me kneel over her as I resumed exploring her tits.
I looked at her as if I was unsure what she meant.
I reached down and tentatively ran my fingers through her curly pussy hair.
She reached down putting her fingers over mine and guided me to her clit.
I complied and began rubbing my fingers all over and around her engorged clit.
My touch was almost a turn on for her.
It didn’t take long with my fingers rubbing over her clit, even unknowingly, for her to explode into orgasm again.
I kept rubbing at her insistence and stared down at her watching her body tremble.
I moved between her legs.
Dr. Sītā Bhārgav could feel me experimenting with different speeds and angles and most of all she simply basked in my desire and the feeling of my hard Bachhalyā Lund filling her Bhārgav Brāhmañ Choot so perfectly.
There was no way I could resist the added stimulation of her orgasm and my began just as hers was reaching its peak.
Both called out and groaned over and over as we shared a mutual orgasm.
I collapsed into her arms and we held each other closely.
She ran her hands over my ever young, strong back and caressed my tight hips as we exchanged a few kisses and mostly just stayed together.
I seemed reluctant to let her leave so she asked,
“Well,” I smiled, “I don’t want my present to end.”
“Come on, let’s continue till you want to,”
Her hair was still pulled up behind her head but was quite tussled and a bit of a mess.
Dr. Sītā Bhārgav smiled wickedly at her reflection in the mirror fixed opposite her and decided not to bother fixing her appearance only to get it messed up later when she planned on fucking me nonstop again.
She sat in her robe in front of the TV, sipping hot chocolate.
She’d meant to watch an educational program on the History channel, but flipping through channels she’d become interested in a trashier program gossiping about lifestyles of the Bachhalyās and their sex lives with Brahmkanyās, Brahmāñīs and Muslimāt.
She watched this now, half-bored.
It was the usual story shown already infinite times.
The Muslimāt are hottest genetically.
Their Ammī was the same.
She was a profound feminist always.
She had sex with Durgesh even.
Yet she never surrendered to Durgesh even.
“He isn’t my husband.” Imāmzādī Sheikħzādī Al Åāyeshah Al Jalāl used to say, “Dr. Sītā Bhārgav, my dear child, you should have refused to your father to live with him. Bhārgav Chakrvartī Dashānan Bhārgav is a good man. Yet, sorry, I can’t be his Najmah Mandodarī.”
“Dad didn’t took only me, Ammī Imāmzādī Sheikħzādī,” Dr. Sītā Bhārgav said bitterly, “He compelled you to give him his every offspring from you. Nevertheless, he always requested to take care of us. He always invited you to live there in Golden Creations, Golden Capital City. What the more is needed to prove that Dad Bhārgav Chakrvartī Dashānan Bhārgav is a perfectly competent and responsible father? Even Swarñ Lankéshvar Rāvañ Vaishravañ Paulastý had not only abandoned his daughter, Brahm Jagdambā, Sītā Rāvañi Vaishravañ Paulastý.”
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Gotrbhid Mahā Bhārat
Shūdrasý tu Savarñaiv Nānyā Bhāryā vidhīyaté
‘Jāti Pānti Poochhé Nahin Koī,
Hari ko bhajé so Hari kā Hoī’
1/18: Ādi Parv
I hugged my Brāhmañ Live in relationship Partner, Brahm Mahimā Sharmā, fucking her constantly from her glorious exquisite Sharmā Brāhmañ behind.
I have to confess, the thought of having my Brāhmañ Live in relationship Partner Brahm Mahimā Sharmā, all to myself for several days really appealed to me.
She would miss her brothers, heck I might even slightly miss her husband, Professor Dr. Rām Chandr Shukl, but I spoke the truth when I replied, “I can’t imagine a more wonderful person to spend Shrāvañ Parv with, Brahm Mahimā Sharmā, Mérī Jān.”
Brahm Mahimā Sharmā kissed me on my Bachhalyā masculine lips.
Before we left the grocery, Brahm Mahimā Sharmā insisted we do a little more shopping, fighting the other customers for last minute buys before the storm closed everything down.
From there, we managed to get the station wagon back to her old apartment building and into the back alley where the parking slots were located.
I usually used my space for storage, but stacking things up, we managed to squeeze Brahm Mahimā Sharmā’s old boat of a car inside.
We lugged our food and shopping up the five flights of stairs and then collapsed on the couch.
On the big color television I kept in my studio apartment, the weatherman was gleefully assuring everyone that with a projection of now twenty inches of snow, we would be having a very white Shrāvañ Parv.
“So, just get comfortable and snuggle up with someone you love and enjoy the snow,” he advised. Brahm Mahimā Sharmā and I just grinned at each other, Brahm Mahimā Sharmā’s smile just a little mysterious.
I laughed and said,
“Let it snow, let snow, let it snow!” It was December 23, and I was spending Shrāvañ Parv with the woman I loved now.
Brahm Mahimā Sharmā wasn’t beautiful only, she loved me now even more than her beautiful Brāhmañ Nanads that were my Live in Relationship Partners.
Brahm Mahimā Sharmā’s surrender to me was divine.*
Arjun Sharmā could not understand Shankar Sahajpāl when even after the enormous defeat of Congress, Shankar Sahajpāl refused to join Bhārtīý Jantā Party.
“I’m unable to understand, Mātr’Shrī, after what Shankar Sahajpāl now actually is.” He said.
Mahārānī Rājmātā Kuntī Chaturvédī smiled patronizing him.
“Arjun, you have to come out of the original Mahābhārat Kālchakr Praxép. It’s Shāshvat Satyug now.”
Yudhishŧhir Sharmā watched his traditional Purāñik Brāhmañ mother, Kuntī Chaturvédī meditatively.
Of course, she was more intelligent than the original Kuntī of Dvāpar era.
She has used Durgesh more successfully for her and her children’s benefits.
The original Kuntī of Dvāpar era could not use anyone for it.
Even Draupadī Kr’shñā was more successful than her.
Despite every effort from even the best diplomat of those days, Lord Kr’shñ, himself, Draupadī Kr’shñā successfully used Lord Kr’shñ to achieve her goal.
Even Lord Kr’shñ, the best diplomat of those days, could not stop the world war, Mahābhārat.
Now, it is Gotrbhid Mahābhārat.
Using Durgesh, Kuntī Chaturvédī has successfully brought her eldest son, Karñ Kauntéý Chaturvédī, to her children’s side.
She has successfully broken the original time cycle projection in numerous matters.
Entire five Chaturvédī Kauntéý Pāndavs appreciated their shrewd Chaturvédī Brāhmañ mother for it.
“The Brāhmañs never lost their battle to Bachhalyās.” Kuntī Chaturvédī used to say, “Brahm Jagdambā movement of Bhagvān Bhr’gu was their master stroke even Durgesh couldn’t defeat.”
Bhīm Vipr Sharmā interfered.*
Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl and Ghazālah Siddīqī had already finished their dessert, gâteau de riz, and now watched Ghazālah Siddīqī spoon the last of her rice caramel with vanilla sauce.
It was only 8.30, and, except for the proprietors and beautiful waitresses, Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl and Ghazālah Siddīqī had restaurant to themselves.
It was a Hindu Lund Musalmān Choot restaurant and Ghazālah Siddīqī was deliberately bringing Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl there, since his wife, Brahm Mahimā Sharmā had gone in trance.
Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl had protested first strictly.
But Ghazālah Siddīqī knew he couldn’t go on protesting for ever.
He needed sex very much and his wife, Brahm Mahimā Sharmā, wasn’t available.
Prabhā Shuklā and Umā Dīxit both helped Ghazālah Siddīqī in this matter as much as they could.
“Bhaiyā, Ghazālah Siddīqī is a good girl. Why don’t you understand? Brahm Mahimā Sharmā Bhābhī would never return to you now.” Umā Dīxit said sympathetically.
Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl looked at Mīnāxī Sharmā.
She was one of the many sisters, Brahm Mahimā Sharmā had.
Mīnāxī Sharmā immediately confirmed what Umā Dīxit had said.
“I’m sorry to say, Bhaiyā. But Umā Dīxit is right.”
“Bhaiyā,” Rādhā Pandit said sympathetically, “You aren’t born yesterday.
‘Once with Durgesh
All the rest is trash.’
You know it yourself very well.”
“Besides, Prabhā Shuklā said sadly, “Bhābhī is in trance.”
“Prabhā Shuklā, Umā Dīxit,” Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl watched them reproachfully, “I’d never forgive both of you what you have done to my wife.”
“Sorry, Bhaiyā,” Prabhā Shuklā and Umā Dīxit both said mischievously.
Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl stared at both of them.
“None of us both, neither your Bhābhī, Brahm Mahimā Sharmā, nor I, ever interfered with your freedom. We knew what you were doing with Durgesh. Yet, Brahm Mahimā Sharmā always said, ‘it’s their private matter‘. She always respected your freedom. Yet, you both…”
“Ghazālah Siddīqī is a good girl, Bhaiyā.” Prabhā Shuklā said quickly.
“Good girls never rape anyone.” Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl said curtly.*
Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl wasn’t a damn fool.
He understood very well that he had lost his wife, Brahm Mahimā Sharmā forever now.
He didn’t need Prabhā Shuklā, his sister, Umā Dīxit, or Rādhā Pandit, her friends, to tell him that.
He never needed Brahm Mahimā Sharmā for sex.
The Musalmān Beauties were crazy for him.
They provided Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl immense sex despite his every protest.
Ghazālah Siddīqī wasn’t alone that raped him.
There were numerous of them.
Being a gentleman Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl could never refuse to them despite his ever strongest monogamous ideology.
Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl hated polygamy immensely.
Yet, the Musalmān Beauties never allowed him to practice monogamy ever.
Brahm Mahimā Sharmā understand it.
She never blamed Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl for it.
Instead, she smiled.
“Let them have the pleasure, Rām, they want to have with you. As long as you love me exclusively it doesn’t make any difference how many girls make love to you unwisely.”
The more Brahm Mahimā Sharmā said it, the more Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl loved her.
Yet, Prabhā Shuklā and Umā Dīxit snatched away his love, his ever faithful wife, Brahm Mahimā Sharmā, from him.
They made her to fuck his Jījū, Durgesh.
Durgesh’s morals immensely differed from the morals of Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl.
Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl was an immensely monogamous Brāhmañ ideologically even though he was never allowed to live according to his morals.
I was an ever righteous polygamist that never appreciated monogamy for noble men.
I claimed it they were running away from their duties to have the responsibilities of the needy women that needed them tremendously.
He suddenly heard Ghazālah Siddīqī asking him,
“Rām, whatever are you brooding about?”
“Brooding?” Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl came out of his thoughts, “Never. I was only thinking back─how we first met.”
Ghazālah Siddīqī gripped his arm more possessively.
But Ghazālah Siddīqī wasn’t alone that gripped his arm more possessively.
There were too many more.
“I never think of that.” Ghazālah Siddīqī smiled gracefully, “Only of now.”
“What of Durgesh, my Jījū?” Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl asked Ghazālah Siddīqī gravely.
Ghazālah Siddīqī smiled.
“Your younger brothers, Brahm Bhūshañ Shukl, Nīhār Ranjan Shukl, Umā Dutt Shukl, Pārvatī Charañ Shukl, everyone has understood they can’t stop their wives to flirt with their Bachhalyā Nandoī.”
“They aren’t flirting with Durgesh Jījū, Ghazālah Siddīqī,” Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl smiled ironically, “They are having sex with him. I hate to interfere in my younger brothers’ private life, but I am ashamed of them. They have compromised with their cuckolding even to their beautiful Brāhmañ wives and Durgesh Jījū.”
Ghazālah Siddīqī watched him sympathetically.
She deliberately didn’t tell Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl what his younger brothers tell in answer to that.
“Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl Bhaiyā is ashamed of us that our Brāhmañ wives too have sex with Durgesh Jījū. Yet, we are proud of it that our high moralist elder brother has a Brāhmañ wife, Brahm Mahimā Sharmā Bhābhī, that is traveling the entire creations in constant sexual union with Durgesh Jījū.”
Ghazālah Siddīqī didn’t want to hurt Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl more.*
Karñ Kauntéý Chaturvédī wasn’t surprised even a bit when Suyodhan Sharmā visited him.
Ignoring protocol Karñ Kauntéý Chaturvédī himself boarded the ship.
He wore a holographic identity card.
It displayed his handsome unbearded face with remarkable fidelity, and underneath it was his name,
Karñ Kauntéý Chaturvédī,
Sharma Brahm Indrprasth Creations
Karñ Kauntéý Chaturvédī still had a fresh and easy going look and manner.
He stared about the ship with clear amazement.
“How did you get down this fast, Suyodhan Sharma, my friend? We weren’t expecting you for two hours.”
“It’s a new model ship,” said Suyodhan Sharma, with non-committal politeness.
Karñ Kauntéý Chaturvédī stepped into the pilot room and said at once,
“With alternative Eīshān Vaigyānik arrangements.” Suyodhan Sharma said tonelessly.
He wasn’t foolish enough to deny anything that was so obvious.
Besides, he expressly wanted to impress Karñ Kauntéý Chaturvédī that he too can get from HVSI what the Sharma Brahm Indrprasth Creations get.
He wasn’t a damn fool enough to trust Karñ Kauntéý Chaturvédī that he would still remain loyal to his friendship.
Yes, he said with his Presidency on Sharma Brahm Indrprasth Creations, Sharma Brahm Indrprasth Creations would never fight against Sharma Brahm Hastināpur Creations.
But why should she?
With Durgesh Jījū and Arjun Sharma with her, why Sharma Brahm Indrprasth Creations would need ever to attack on Sharma Brahm Hastināpur Creations?
It was a wrong decision to divide Sharma Brahm Hastināpur Creations into Sharma Brahm Hastināpur Creations and Sharma Brahm Indrprasth Creations.
Sharma Brahm Hastināpur Creations, thus, lost the unimaginable Eīshān Vaigyānik warriors Arjun Sharma, and Bhīmvipr Sharma.
His ever infamous maternal uncle, Sheikħ Al Ůmer Al Aħmad Al Zabīr, never understood the importance of Arjun Sharma, and Bhīmvipr Sharma in these Eīshān Vaigyānik days, in this Eīshān Vaigyānik era.
Hey Bhagvān, how the morals changed so fast.
Polygamy replaced monogamy fastly.
Yet, LGBT also spread tremendously and cuckolding consequently.
It wasn’t limited to Pseudo Musalmīn now.
Even so many traditional Brāhmañs were suffering from it, so many Savarñs too.
Suyodhan Sharma was surprised that the Shūdrāntyaj Hindus were least suffering from it.
The cuckold life was a normal life for the LGBT now.
They were even proud of it.
Karñ Kauntéý Chaturvédī smiled.
“Very interesting. We hear of them but we never see them somehow. Motors in the hull?”
“That’s so.” Suyodhan Sharma said.
“Eīshān Vaigyānik Motors too?”
“Eīshān Vaigyānik Motors too.”
“Bachhalyā Brahmkanyās Bachhalyā Brahmāñīs?”
“Hell, nope! They fail miserably. Hopeless entirely.”
“I see. Ashvinātam?”
“We haven’t another option. Bachhalyā Brahmkanyās Bachhalyā Brahmāñīs Yantrs are suitable optimum only in building families and running the administration in constructive manner. They don’t accept any cunning strategy even, while ashvinātam Yantr work smoothly everywhere.”
“I understand,” Suyodhan Sharma said gravely.
Kuntī Chaturvédī was smarter than all of them thought.
“It’s great that a Chaturvédī, Karñ Kauntéý Chaturvédī, is the new President of a Sharma Brahm Creations.” Suyodhan Sharma smiled to ease the high political tension somewhat.
The original Kuntī of Dvāpar era could never succeed in bringing back her eldest pre-marital son, Karñ, in her favor.
He died fighting for Duryodhan.
But Kuntī Chaturvédī had learned her lesson from it.
She also gave birth to a son before she was married.
She also abandoned him.
Yet, Kuntī Chaturvédī managed to watch him on her own yacht, traveling beside her son.
She knew where her son, Karñ Kauntéý Chaturvédī, was.
She managed to be friend of Rādhā, Adhirath’s wife, and kept an eye on her son constantly.*
Kuntī Chaturvédī put her beautiful nude Chaturvédī Brāhmañ legs on my equally nude shoulders.
She herself arched her waist, elevated it to receive my Bachhalyā penetration.
She had vowed not to let the world war, Mahābhārat again.
It was the Infinite Brāhm Kalp now, its everfirst Satyug, Sanā Kr’tyug.
She was worried that Gāndhārī Mukherjī Dīdī could not explain to her brother, Sheikħ Al Ůmer Al Aħmad Al Zabīr, that Shakuni was a failed person despite all his shrewdness and smartness.
Sheikħ Al Ůmer Al Aħmad Al Zabīr was still following Shakuni.
He didn’t believe that Karñ Kauntéý Chaturvédī would still work for his ever ambitious Bhānjā, Suyodhan Sharma.
My Bachhalyā Lund penetrated Kuntī Chaturvédī’s ever tight Chaturvédī Brāhmañ Choot.
It was a Yogdarshan now that I should use Bachhalyā Brahmkanyā Bachhalyā Brahmāñī Yantr for creative and constructive affirmations and transmissions.
It’s more appropriate than Ashvinātam Yantr is even for creative and constructive affirmations and transmissions.
“You are keeping watch on Karñ Kauntéý Chaturvédī, Durgesh?”
“Don’t worry, Kuntī Chaturvédī,” I smiled, “Karñ Kauntéý Chaturvédī isn’t your son alone. I’m too his real father. I too love my son.”
Kuntī Chaturvédī constricted her Chaturvédī Brāhmañ vaginal muscles around my entirely immersed ever creative ever constructive Bachhalyā Lund.
“Suyodhan Sharma is your responsibility.”
“I’m afraid of the original Mahābhārat Time Cycle.”
“We are successfully changing it, darling,” I reassured her, “You’ve visited the ultimately improved Trétā now yourself. Has Kaikéyī succeeded? Has Mantharā succeeded?”
“Well, it took too many time slits however,”
“It was necessary.”
“I understand. Yet I wonder often how many time slits our Mahābhārat Time Cycle itself would require to make it entirely ineffective.”*
Suyodhan Sharma touched Pāndu Sharma’s feet.
Pāndu Sharma hugged him.
“How’s my ever smart nephew?”
“Eīshānasýānugraham, Pitr’výshrī,” Suyodhan Sharma smiled politely.
Bhānumatī Tripāŧhī also bent to touch Pāndu Sharma’s feet, but Pāndu Sharma stopped her as soon as she bent.
“No, my child,” Pāndu Sharma hugged her; “You are my daughter in law, not less than my own daughter herself. You don’t need it,”
Bhānumatī Tripāŧhī expressed her respect to Pāndu Sharma, nevertheless.
Bhānumatī Tripāŧhī was shrewder than Suyodhan Sharma even.
She had vowed not to let Suyodhan Sharma influenced by Sheikħ Al Ůmer Al Aħmad Al Zabīr’s dirty politics.
It was her own idea that they should visit Sharma Brāhmañ Indrprasth Creations.
Bhānumatī Tripāŧhī fucked me in front of Suyodhan Sharma.
She had numerous beautiful Musalmān girlfriends that she allowed Suyodhan Sharma to fuck even when Bhānumatī Tripāŧhī and I were enjoying sex.
“The damnfool,” Bhānumatī Tripāŧhī used to say scornfully, “He hates me for my comparatively inherent Brāhmañ coldness for sex. He loves to fuck my beautiful Musalmān girlfriends instead wildly.”
“Beware of Sheikħ Al Ůmer Al Aħmad Al Zabīr, however,” I had warned her fucking Bhānumatī Tripāŧhī gently, yet passionately, she needed my masculine Bachhalyā love very much, “Most of the Musalmān girlfriends you have are Sheikħ Al Ůmer Al Aħmad Al Zabīr’s commandos and duly trained professional secret agents.”
“I know. My father is a Tripāŧhī Brāhmañ, but my Ammī is a Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān that left Saåūdī Årab when Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan wasn’t her President.” Bhānumatī Tripāŧhī smiled, “She deliberately married me with Suyodhan Sharma because she wanted the original Time Cycle of Mahābhārat not let to repeat. She knew neither Suyodhan Sharma nor his rest of the ninety-nine younger brothers do understand what Sheikħ Al Ůmer Al Aħmad Al Zabīr is after.”
“You are prepared for them?”
“Sure, but Ammī wants me only to act on what you allow me to. She thinks you are yourself adamant not to let any inter Creations war happen. It’s better to work under your strategy, instead of devising our own that may conflict with what you are already acting on.”
Bhānumatī Tripāŧhī was straddling me.
She was a Brahm Padminī.
She never needed very much sex to satisfy her sexual needs.
Generally, until I was aroused, she had already had her orgasm.
It was the real reason why most Brāhmañs never wanted to marry Brahm Padminīs, despite their ever incredible immerse beauty.*
Mantharā Bhārgav was herself a Brahm Padminī.
Nevertheless, her sexual needs were higher than the rest of the Brahm Padminīs.
“You alright, Mantharā Bhārgav?” I spoke, softly stroking her hair before planting a kiss on the top of her head.
“Had a horrible day but I’m better now that you’re home,” Mantharā Bhārgav smiled, reaching out and linking her hand with mine.
“I’m sorry to hear that… want to talk about it?” I asked, stroking her face.
I didn’t say she succeeded in exploiting Kaikéyī Mukherjī.
It wasn’t a fact actually.
Kaikéyī Mukherjī herself wanted to send Rām Chaturvédī in exile.
She never believed Rām Chaturvédī had his Svarūpé Avasthānam ultimately.
Mantharā Bhārgav advised Kaikéyī Mukherjī that it was some political strategy of HVSI Creations.
HVSI Creations had actually kidnapped Rām Chaturvédī and I had replaced him.
Neither Mantharā Bhārgav could believe, nor Kaikéyī Mukherjī, they had really sent me in exile successfully.
Mantharā Bhārgav failed in Bhārgav Brahm Ayodhyā Creations, but she had succeeded here in Chaturvédī Brahm Ayodhyā Creations at least.
“No, not really. Just want a cuddle,” Mantharā Bhārgav replied with a small smile, gazing up into my warm handsome Bachhalyā eyes.
Sliding my arms around her young Bhārgav Brāhmañ Communist body and pulling her closer to me, I noticed how cold Mantharā Bhārgav was.
“Baby, you’re freezing,” I sounded concerned, as I tightened my grip on Mantharā Bhārgav and rubbed my hands over her back.
“It was pouring when I got off work and I didn’t have an umbrella with me,” Mantharā Bhārgav explained, “Think I’m just tired though.” Mantharā Bhārgav yawned, snuggling against my strong Bachhalyā arms.
“Do you want to go upstairs and share a long, leisurely bath?” I whispered against her hair, feeling her hands run up and down my upper Bachhalyā thigh.
“Mmm… that sounds good. It might be just what I need,” Mantharā Bhārgav sighed, already starting to feel much better now that I was home.
She could not believe I wasn’t really angry with her.
Had Durgesh blamed Kaikéyī Mukherjī only for what Mantharā Bhārgav too had planned and succeeded in doing?
“Come with me then,” I smiled as I removed the blanket from around Mantharā Bhārgav and pulled Mantharā Bhārgav to her feet.
Linking her fingers with mine, I slowly lifted each one in turn, kissing the back of each hand affectionately, before taking Mantharā Bhārgav with me upstairs to our master bedroom.
“Get undressed, baby and I’ll go run the bath,” I said, planting a soft kiss on her red crimson beautiful Bhārgav Brāhmañ lips and then disappeared into the en-suite bathroom.
Mantharā Bhārgav let her clothes fall to the floor in a heap at her feet, too tired to care about the mess.
All Mantharā Bhārgav wanted was to soak in the warm water in our bath, snuggled in my strong Bachhalyā arms and erase the memory of the day Mantharā Bhārgav had had.
Yet not everything of it.
Her extraordinary success on Durgesh himself must be celebrated.
A grand sex session with Durgesh himself!
What the hell could be better?
Wandering into the bathroom, a small smile tugged at her red crimson beautiful Bhārgav Brāhmañ lips when Mantharā Bhārgav found me leaning over the spacious bathtub, checking the water.
Leaning against the doorframe, Mantharā Bhārgav let her eyes drop and found herself staring at my firm buttocks.
The tight fitting dark jeans pulled even tighter as I bent over the bath.
The material snug around my toned buttocks making Mantharā Bhārgav itch to touch my Bachhalyā Penis. Stepping up behind me and circling her arms around my ever excellent, ever athletic, male Bachhalyā body, Mantharā Bhārgav smiled as Mantharā Bhārgav felt me alert slightly in her beautiful young Bhārgav Brāhmañ arms, having obviously not heard me come in.
“I missed you when I got home today,” Mantharā Bhārgav mumbled against my broad back, slipping her hands under the hem of my T-shirt at the front and running her hands across my muscular upper body, loving the feel of my chest hair tangling in her fingers.
Turning off the tabs, I straightened myself in her embrace and turned around to face her.
Wrapping my arms around her lithe Bhārgav young Brāhmañ body, my hands instantly gravitated downwards her toned bum, each hand grasping a buttock and gently kneading the peachy flesh.
“Missed you too, baby. But I’m here now…” I trailed off before leaning down and capturing her red crimson beautiful Bhārgav Brāhmañ lips in a tender and unhurried Bachhalyā kiss.
“Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā, God, you’re so beautiful, Mantharā Bhārgav,” I murmured as I broke the kiss and looked down at her naked exquisite young Bhārgav Brāhmañ body, my jeans tightening around my Bachhalyā male groin.*
Blushing, Mantharā Bhārgav looked up at me through lowered lashes and I stared into her extremely beautiful young Bhārgav Brāhmañ eyes for a while.
“Get into the bath, Mantharā Bhārgav, and I’ll join you in a second,” I smiled, letting go of her.
Making sure the water wasn’t too hot; Mantharā Bhārgav slowly eased herself into the bath and lowered her young Bhārgav Brāhmañ Communist body down, sighing as the warm water enveloped her young Bhārgav Brāhmañ Communist body.
Looking up at me, watching me the whole time, Mantharā Bhārgav smiled as she gazed at my naked body and felt certain parts of her another twitch.
Walking over to the bath, I supported myself on the marble edge of the tub as I stepped in and slowly sank down into the warm water behind Mantharā Bhārgav, pulling her young Bhārgav Brāhmañ Communist body close to mine.
“How are you feeling, baby?” I asked softly, running my hands up and down her arms in soothing motions.
“Much better,” Mantharā Bhārgav sighed, tipping her head back against my shoulder and giving me a loving smile.
Kaikéyī Mukherjī was constantly transmitting to her what she was watching.
It wasn’t entirely unexpected.
Even in his Rām Chaturvédī body Durgesh was the utmost popular man in Chaturvédī Brāhmañ Creations.
Most of the Chaturvédī Brāhmañ Creations that were prominent in business and other commercial activities had declared their immediate independence and their loyalty with Durgesh.
“It’s impossible to believe what the federal government is advertising. We have more faith in HVSI Creations federal government than we have in the federal government of Chaturvédī Brāhmañ Creations.
The minute our first lady, Kaikéyī Mukherjī, brought her friend, Mantharā Bhārgav, here, we knew the ever failed ideology, Communism, is overpowering here. We’ve already warned our federal government every now and then that it would be extremely dangerous to our business and commerce if we still continued in the federation.
“Communism is an ever failed ideology that never supported any viability to any business and commerce. Prior to it that the new federal order can harm it irrevocably, we declare our independence from the new federal order of Chaturvédī Brāhmañ Creations.”
Mantharā Bhārgav wasn’t worried however, neither Kaikéyī Mukherjī.
Grabbing my hands, Mantharā Bhārgav guided my arms tighter around her young Bhārgav Brāhmañ Communist body as Mantharā Bhārgav lay back against me and closed her extremely beautiful young Bhārgav Brāhmañ eyes, enjoying the feel of my warm, wet skin against her own.
I pulled my strong muscular arms even closer around her young body.
“Good,” I replied, sounding a little relieved.
I always hated it when Mantharā Bhārgav was down or upset and left no stone unturned to make sure Mantharā Bhārgav felt okay. “Mantharā Bhārgav, I love you,” I whispered against her ear, my breath hot on her skin, which sent a shiver down her back.
“I love you too, Durgesh,” Mantharā Bhārgav muttered contentedly, snuggling further into my embrace, causing the water to gently lap between us.
Mantharā Bhārgav relaxed completely in my arms as my fingers softly stroked the wet skin on her upper arms and one foot lovingly caressed her leg.
Mantharā Bhārgav saw me smiling to myself as I gazed down at her face.
“What?” Mantharā Bhārgav demanded.
I shook my head.
“Just seeing how beautiful you look, lying here in my arms, illuminated only by the soft light,” I smiled.
“Hmm… I like the feeling of you naked against me,” Mantharā Bhārgav said all of a sudden.
“Mantharā Bhārgav, I like feeling you naked against me too,” I laughed, my hands dipping below the water and cupping her beautiful Bhārgav Brāhmañ breasts in my palms, squeezing the soft flesh and playing with her nipples.
Opening her extremely beautiful young Bhārgav Brāhmañ eyes, Mantharā Bhārgav pushed into my touch, biting her bottom lip as Mantharā Bhārgav felt my erection growing against her back.
Twisting her head, I brushed her red crimson beautiful Bhārgav Brāhmañ lips against mine, our tongues immediately coming out to play as they slowly slid over each other, tasting and licking and slipping in and out of our warm, familiar mouths.
As we continued to leisurely kiss, tongues wounding round their counterpart, I ran my hands over her taught stomach and down to her core, her quiet moans being swallowed by our kiss as my Bachhalyā Lund came into contact with her already erect Bhārgav Brāhmañ clit.
Mantharā Bhārgav gently spread her legs, giving me better access to her moist opening as I dipped in my immensely hardened Bachhalyā Lund, spreading her beautiful Bhārgav Brāhmañ lips while my Bachhalyā Lund slipped over her Bhārgav Brāhmañ clit, circling the erect nub with the tip of my Bachhalyā Lund, occasionally flicking it, teasing Mantharā Bhārgav.*
Kaikéyī Mukherjī was equally unworried.
She had already anticipated everything.
As soon as her son Bharat Chaturvédī would arrive, the entire revolt against Communism would calm down, eventually, ultimately.
Sheikħ Al Ůmer Al Aħmad Al Zabīr was quite capable in handling such matters.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Gotrbhid Mahā Bhārat
Shūdrasý tu Savarñaiv Nānyā Bhāryā vidhīyaté
‘Jāti Pānti Poochhé Nahin Koī,
Hari ko bhajé so Hari kā Hoī’
1/18: Ādi Parv
Rādhā Pandit‘s hand was slowly stroking me with a tight grip.
A clear drop formed on the tip of my Bachhalyā Cock as her tongue made slow circles on the glands.
Rādhā Pandit was bringing the tip of her Pandit tongue to the clear Bachhalyā drop, licking it; the pulling away causing a thin string of pre cum to stretch between my hard Bachhalyā Cock and her beautiful Pandit mouth.
Rādhā Pandit smiled.
She was of course lucky to have this great Bachhalyā Prick.
It was now very much in demand among countless extraordinary Musalmān Beauties, Christian Beauties, Jew Beauties, atheist Beauties and Brāhmañ Beauties too.
Rādhā Pandit rolled her tongue in her mouth savoring the taste then moved her mouth towards my Bachhalyā Cock in earnest.
She took first the head then most of my Bachhalyā shaft into her warm wet Pandit mouth.
She sucked slow deep deliberate strokes.
Rādhā Pandit was taking me deeper each time.
Watching her extremely beautiful Pandit head bobbing between my Bachhalyā legs with my wife’s friend, Umā Dīxit, at my side; was almost surreal.
Yet it was true.
It was happening.
I had always told Umā Dīxit that the one and only bad part of a blowjob is that I can’t kiss her as I cum.
Therefore, as Rādhā Pandit expertly sucked my throbbing Bachhalyā Cock Umā Dīxit kissed me passionately.
She broke our kiss and whispered in my ear.
Umā Dīxit moved down to my balls and started to suck them as Rādhā Pandit’s head kept bobbing on my Bachhalyā shaft.
She then joined Umā Dīxit.
Each of them was with a Bachhalyā ball in the extremely beautiful Brāhmañ mouth, sucking me hard.
I groaned deeply and watched as they both started to lick up my Bachhalyā shaft.
Rādhā Pandit’s red Pandit lips were on one side and Umā Dīxit’s pink lips were on the other.
Their both Brāhmañ tongues were licking my aching Bachhalyā rod.
Then they did it.
They both tilted their extremely beautiful Brāhmañ heads towards me and their lips and tongues touched with my hard Bachhalyā Cock between them.
Keeping their extremely beautiful Brāhmañ lips pressed together, forming a tunnel that my Bachhalyā Cock passed through, as their tongues licked my Bachhalyā shaft, causing every nerve ending to spark to life at once.
I could feel my Bachhalyā balls start to tighten and I moaned.
“Rādhā Pandit, Umā Dīxit, mérī Brāhmañ Chhammak Chhallos, I’m getting close.”
As my breathing got shallow and quick, Umā Dīxit moved up to kiss me as Rādhā Pandit sucked me deep into her Pandit mouth again.
Umā Dīxit whispered directing my gaze at her friend.
“I had to promise her your first Bachhalyā load to get her here tonight. It was one of her two conditions.”
Then she kissed me deeply.
She broke our kiss and I watched her put her hand on the back of Rādhā Pandit’s head urging her deeper.
She wrapped her long slender Dīxit fingers around my Bachhalyā Cock and started to stroke me quickly into Rādhā Pandit’s Brāhmañ mouth.
“Come on Durgesh, Bachhalyā Piyā, give it to her. Shoot your hot Bachhalyā load between her red Brāhmañ lips.”
I could feel my Bachhalyā body tighten as my wife’s friend, Umā Dīxit, continued to stroke my Bachhalyā Cock into her friend’s exquisite Brāhmañ mouth.
I tried to hold off a few seconds longer trying to make it last.
Then there was a sudden jerk of my hips.
Umā Dīxit called out,
“Here it comes, Rādhā Pandit.”
Then Umā Dīxit kissed me passionately.
I could feel Rādhā Pandit’s Pandit lips tighten around the Bachhalyā shaft of my Bachhalyā Cock as I erupted.
Pumping what felt like a quart of hot Bachhalyā cum into the mouth of my wife’s friend, Umā Dīxit’s redhead Pandit friend.
I could hear Rādhā Pandit gulping to swallow as surge after Bachhalyā surge hit the back of her Pandit throat.
As our kiss broke I looked into my wife’s friend, Umā Dīxit’s, ice blue eyes as she smiled at me.
“Rādhā Pandit is one of the good Bachhalyā Cock suckers Brahmkanyās and Brahmāñīs of yours, isn’t she, Durgesh, Bachhalyā Piyā?”
I nodded as I looked down at Rādhā Pandit.
Drops of pearl white Bachhalyā cum were still clinging to her Pandit lips.
Her eyes were watering, as Rādhā Pandit squeezed my still throbbing Bachhalyā Cock, milking out the last drop.
“I almost couldn’t handle it all.” Rādhā Pandit acknowledged softly.
“See, I told you,” laughed Umā Dīxit. “Here let me help you.”
As she leaned towards Rādhā Pandit, I was speechless and stunned at what was about to happen.
Umā Dīxit put her long fingers under Rādhā Pandit’s chin, lifted her exquisite Pandit face and kissed her full on the lips licking my Bachhalyā cum from them.
Their tongues probing each other’s exquisite Brāhmañ mouth as their kiss lingered.
I could feel my Bachhalyā Cock start to twitch back to life.
Rādhā Pandit looked at my Bachhalyā Cock as it started to swell again and said.
“I think Durgesh likes seeing us share his Bachhalyā cum. Let’s keep doing it.”
Umā Dīxit just nodded in affirmation licking a drop of my Bachhalyā cum from her lower Pandit lip.
Their hands moved slowly over each other’s body.
Neither of them had done this before so it was new to all of us.
Rādhā Pandit seemed to be bolder than my wife’s friend, Umā Dīxit was, as she drew Umā Dīxit’s nipple between her lips causing her to gasp at the sensation.
I was not going to let an opportunity like this pass so I slowly moved between my wife’s friend, Umā Dīxit’s, legs, removed her thong panties and placed her Dīxit legs over my Bachhalyā shoulders.
Rādhā Pandit started lightly to lick the puffy folds of Umā Dīxit’s Brāhmañ Pussy lips.
Umā Dīxit sighed softly as Rādhā Pandit’s tongue worked its way between her folds with long slow broad licks from back to front, causing her body to tighten, tremble, in anticipation.
I soon started making circles around her hard little Dīxit clit with the tip of my Bachhalyā Cock .
This combined with the unfamiliar sensations of having Rādhā Pandit licking and sucking her nipples soon had my wife’s friend, Umā Dīxit, hurdling towards the brink of orgasm.
Her back arched and her legs tightened around Rādhā Pandit’s neck pressing her Brāhmañ mound to her mouth.
She cried out.
“Hey Bhagvān … Oh, Durgesh, Bachhalyā Piyā, fuck me. That’s good!”
Her moans and cries were soon muffled by Rādhā Pandit placing her mouth on her, as she continued to knead Umā Dīxit’s big beautiful tits.
My wife’s friend’s, Umā Dīxit’s, Dīxit body convulsed.
Bucking her hips and quaking, as wave after orgasmic wave coursed through her body, leaving gasping for air with ragged breaths.
Eating my wife’s friend, Umā Dīxit’s, Brāhmañ Pussy and bringing her to a strong orgasm has always been one of Rādhā Pandit’s favorite things, but doing this, while I kissed her tits and kissed her lips, was beyond anything I could imagine.
My Bachhalyā Cock was as hard as an iron bar, and I knew right where I wanted to put it.
Rādhā Pandit was on her knees beside my wife’s friend, Umā Dīxit.
Umā Dīxit was still trying to catch her breath panting from the series of powerful orgasms that had just wracked her body.
Neither of them was paying very close attention to me until they realized that I had positioned myself behind Rādhā Pandit’s kneeling Pandit body.
Rādhā Pandit was startled as I grabbed her Pandit buttocks in my strong hands holding her fast.
Umā Dīxit, from where she was sitting; could see my face.
She had seen that look before, and knew that her friend was in for one hell of a Bachhalyā ride.
Rādhā Pandit gasped as her panties were torn from her Pandit body with one quick snap of my wrist.
She had always seen me as a gentleman, kind and polite.
This side of me was new to her, but she wanted me now.
She was going to get me.
Rādhā Pandit sighed, looked at Umā Dīxit for guidance, but all Umā Dīxit could do was looking her right in the eyes and say.
“You, my dear Pandit Beauty, are about to get fucked by the ever ravenous Bachhalyā, savagely.”
I pressed my aching Bachhalyā Cock against Rādhā Pandit’s wet hot Brāhmañ Pussy, and felt her muscles slowly start to give way.
Once I had the tip of my Bachhalyā Cock in her, she was mine.
She moaned and gasped as I pushed my Bachhalyā Cock deeper into her stretching Brāhmañ Pussy walls until my Bachhalyā balls rested against her exquisite Pandit Brāhmañ ass.
I withdrew my Bachhalyā Cock until just the tip was still in her and pushed it into her again with one motion, slow and deep.
The next time was a bit faster, and the time after faster yet.
It was until I was pounding her Brāhmañ Pussy from behind as hard as I could.
My Bachhalyā thighs were slapping against her, with each Bachhalyā thrust, sending rippling shockwave across her pretty Pandit ass.
Rādhā Pandit was screaming and moaning as my Bachhalyā Cock assaulted her Brāhmañ Pussy.
Her Pandit body was writhing beneath me as she made guttural sounds as she begged.
“Oh fuck me Durgesh! Hey Bhagvān… Please fuck me harder! Oh yes … OH…OH FUCK!” Her breathing only came in gasps and her back arched as I reached for her bouncing pillowy tits, pinching her nipples as I franticly fucked Rādhā Pandit.
This is when Umā Dīxit returned the favor, slid under Rādhā Pandit’s bouncing Pandit tits, and sucked them while I pressed my Bachhalyā Prick fucking Rādhā Pandit to a new level.
Rādhā Pandit threw back her head causing her deep red Mane of hair to fly to one side.
“Oh fuck … oh .. oh .. oh .. OOOOOH … I’m cumming … OH FUCK me, Durgesh, Bachhalyā Piyā !” Her Pandit body quivered and shook beneath me as jolts of orgasmic pleasure shot through her.
Rādhā Pandit’s Brāhmañ Pussy gripped my thrusting Bachhalyā shaft as I pulled her on my Bachhalyā Cock.
Her Brāhmañ Pussy was so tight and wet gripping me, holding me deep inside her.
I felt like my Bachhalyā loins were on fire as my balls tightened and I gushed my hot Bachhalyā seed deepest into Rādhā Pandit’s Pandit Brāhmañ womb.
All the three of us felt the effects of our salacious adventures so far so we decided to take a break and have a glass of juice.
The Brāhmañ girls went to the bedroom and adjusted what little they had on.
Rādhā Pandit adjusted the cups of her corset so they acted like a shelf bra leaving both of her nipples totally exposed.
We sat, drank our juice and talked for a while.
There was a lot of banter between the Brāhmañ girls.
“Have you ever done that before?” Umā Dīxit asked.
Rādhā Pandit replied.
“Never in my life! Durgesh is the utmost fast worker, I admit.”
Then I had an idea.
“What we need is a little competition to see which of the two of you Brāhmañ Beauties gets my attention next.”
“What do you have in mind?” Umā Dīxit asked.
“Yeah, what kind of competition are you thinking about?” Inquired Rādhā Pandit also, with a sly smile.
“Oh, Brāhmañ Beauties, don’t worry there really aren’t any losers in my idea.”
“OK I’m in.” Chirped my wife’s friend, Umā Dīxit.
“Me too.” Added Rādhā Pandit.
“OK … Wait right here. I’ll be right back.”
I quickly went into the bedroom, and returned almost as quickly.
“OK … Who picks first?”
“Rādhā Pandit can.” said Umā Dīxit.
“OK, Rādhā Pandit, which hand do you want right or left.” I asked holding my hands behind my back.”
“Right,” she answered.
“Right it is. So Umā Dīxit, you get the left.” I brought my hands from behind my back.
In each my hand there was a vibrator.
In the right hand was a smooth eight inch very powerful brown vibrator.
In the left was a seven inch black vibrator with the added little clit stimulating bunny on top.
Umā Dīxit asked.
“What are we supposed to do with these?”
“You don’t know?”
“Well, we are not your much experienced Musalmān Beauties. You know. What’s your idea, wise Bachhalyā Piyā?”
“Well, both of you sit on the couch and get comfortable. I will kneel between the two of you and insert the vibrators that you have chosen. I will adjust them as instructed by you, and the one who cums first wins.”
“What do we win?” asked Rādhā Pandit.
“The winner gets to do what I say, the looser gets to watch.”
“Sounds like fun either way.” said Umā Dīxit.
Umā Dīxit and Rādhā Pandit sat on the couch side by side, as I positioned myself between them.
The view was amazing.
Two beautiful Brāhmañ Beauties with their legs spread and pure lust in their eyes as I eased the vibrators into their waiting Brāhmañ Pussies.
Once they were in, I hit the switches as close to simultaneously as I could, causing both the Brāhmañ Beauties to twitch with the sensation.
Rādhā Pandit cooed as the vibrations brought her Brāhmañ Pussy to life.
I pushed deep enough into Umā Dīxit to let the little bunny work on her hard Dīxit clit.
Soon Rādhā Pandit’s hips started to grinding against my hand and my wife’s friend, Umā Dīxit, was arching her back as she grew closer to her climax.
Both of their bodies were writhing there before me and I felt like I had control of their Brāhmañ worlds.
All they wanted was to cum and that was left to my whim.
Both, Umā Dīxit and Rādhā Pandit; were gasping and moaning loudly now.
Each was racing to her finish, not wanting to hold back this time.
I thrust the brown vibrator in and out of Rādhā Pandit’s wet Brāhmañ Pussy.
I turned up the vibrations to max and she screamed with feverish delight.
Umā Dīxit had an almost painful expression on her face as her body tightened.
She pushed down with her heels and lifted her tight Dīxit ass off the couch.
Rādhā Pandit’s knees were up to her heaving chest as she pushed herself towards pleasure.
Then all at once my wife’s friend, Umā Dīxit’s, hips bucked and she launched herself into orgasm followed, not five seconds later, by Rādhā Pandit.
Both Brāhmañ Beauties were twisting and writhing in the ecstasy of carnal release, as waves of orgasm washed over them.
“OK Umā Dīxit, you’re the winner.” I announced.
“It’s not fair,” Rādhā Pandit said with a pout on her face. “She had a better vibrator.”
“It was fair Rādhā Pandit.” I teased. “You got to choose first, and you got what you picked. In this house we live up to the wagers we make and the games we play.” I looked at my wife’s friend, Umā Dīxit, with a teasing smile. “But I tell you what Rādhā Pandit. Being that you lost the challenge, I’ll allow you to pick what I do with Umā Dīxit. How’s that?”
“OK.” Rādhā Pandit said with a bright devilish smile. “Let’s see. Everybody in the office thinks you’re such a prude never fooling around with any of the office hunks, not even flirting. A real tight ass most of the Bachhalyās would say. So that’s it … You have to fuck Umā Dīxit’s tight Dīxit ass.”
Umā Dīxit looked shocked…
“Who says I’m a prude? Just because I’m there to work not play grab ass!”
“OK honey … It’s ok let me just prove them wrong tonight.”
I took Umā Dīxit by hand and we walked back to the master bedroom with Rādhā Pandit following close behind.
My wife’s friend, Umā Dīxit, climbed onto our king size bed and bent over giving me a perfect angle to enter her, as I took the slick lube from the nightstand drawer.
I positioned myself behind her and applied a large glob of lube to her Dīxit rectum.
I prepared to place my Bachhalyā Cock at her Dīxit opening when Rādhā Pandit asked.
“Can I help you do that .. please.”
She wrapped her Pandit fingers tightly around my hard Bachhalyā Cock, gave it a few quick strokes and placed the tip of my Bachhalyā Cock against lube that coated Umā Dīxit’s tight pink Dīxit Brāhmañ hole.
I started to push into my wife’s friend, Umā Dīxit, and Rādhā Pandit only let go when there was no more room for her hand.
Umā Dīxit let out a deep guttural moan as my Bachhalyā Cock eased deep into her Dīxit Brāhmañ ass.
I thrust slowly yet deep until my Bachhalyā balls bounced off her Dīxit Brāhmañ asscheeks.
I rocked back and forth fucking my wife’s friend, Umā Dīxit’s, tight Dīxit Brāhmañ ass as Rādhā Pandit watched in disbelief as Umā Dīxit’s Brāhmañ ass accommodated my thick long Bachhalyā Cock.
Her Dīxit moans were more frequent and her breathing was getting more rapid.
I reached around and played with her hard little Dīxit clit.
I felt Rādhā Pandit’s hand on top of mine as I stroked Umā Dīxit’s Brāhmañ Pussy.
I removed my hand and allowed her to continue alone as Umā Dīxit rocked back to meet my thrusting Bachhalyā Cock.
Her back arched and she threw back her head as her Dīxit body trembled in yet another series of orgasmic rushes.
I felt my groin tighten and thrust frantically into my wife’s friend, Umā Dīxit’s, beautiful peach shaped Dīxit ass as torrents of my hot Bachhalyā sperm gushed into her tight pink Dīxit Brāhmañ ass.
We lay that way joined together until my Bachhalyā Cock hardened again and slipped from Umā Dīxit’s exquisite Brāhmañ ass.
The warmth of our body’s was comforting us.
I got up slowly and went to take a shower before fucking Rādhā Pandit once more.
Yet, this time in her Pandit Brāhmañ ass.
Umā Dīxit wanted it as Rādhā Pandit did for her.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Gotrbhid Mahā Bhārat
Shūdrasý tu Savarñaiv Nānyā Bhāryā vidhīyaté
‘Jāti Pānti Poochhé Nahin Koī,
Hari ko bhajé so Hari kā Hoī’
1/18: Ādi Parv
I smiled at Dashrath Bhārgav.
“But Dad, what’s wrong in it, even if I can’t return or enter Chaturvédī Brahm Ayodhyā Creations for fourteen years?”
Dashrath Bhārgav looked at me as if he had lost everything whatsoever he had.
“You should have asked Sumant why he was sent to bring you here, instead of any lady robot. Should you haven’t, Durgesh?”
Prime Minister, Sumant Chaturvédī, looked gravely at Dashrath Bhārgav.
Then he looked at me,
“Durgesh, my dear boy, you are my son in law too. Aren’t you? I thought it was better to bring you myself here instead of some bloody lady robot that doesn’t have any human heart.”
Kaikéyī Mukherjī smiled cunningly.
“Son, Durgesh, your father in law, Dashrath Bhārgav is afraid of me very much that my son Bharat Chaturvédī may let me establish Communism here.”
Dashrath Bhārgav looked at me,
“Param Purush, now even you can’t say I am wrong. You always favored Kaikéyī Mukherjī even on Kaushalyā Mukherjī and Sumitrā Chatterjī. Now you can see yourself what Kaikéyī Mukherjī is doing. I agree she could not influence you. But she could have certainly influenced Bharat Chaturvédī if we were not vigilant enough.”
Prime Minister, Sumant Chaturvédī, immediately seconded Dashrath Bhārgav,
“Mr. President is right, son. The first lady of Chaturvédī Brahm Ayodhyā Creations, Kaikéyī Mukherjī, does not deserve this honor. She has herself proved it now.”
I looked at Prime Minister, Sumant Chaturvédī, Dashrath Bhārgav and Kaikéyī Mukherjī, all the three present there with me.
I understood it very well that despite my continuous constant nonstop attempts, I could not replace Dashrath Bhārgav here as I had successfully in Bhārgav Brahm Ayodhyā Creations.
Dashrath Chaturvédī helped me there unknowingly in amending the ever ancient time cycle of ending Trétā Yug.
But Dashrath Bhārgav here, in Chaturvédī Brahm Ayodhyā Creations, was more prudent.
It was not easy to replace him.
Dashrath Bhārgav tried to save me here more prudently, even at his own cost.
The problem was his less knowledge and experiences that he could not help.
He was more prudent than Dashrath Chaturvédī.
Even his intensions were better.
But due to these better intensions themselves, he had, he never tried to protect himself.
He tried to protect me instead.
Even then, it was better Dashrath Bhārgav was not in panic or depression as my original body, projected from my Kashyap body was in the ending Trétā Yug.
“Dad, Ārý Sumant, I brought Justice Hémā Bhārgav back to Bhārgav Brahm Ayodhyā Creations and successfully changed the time cycle there. Hémā Bhārgav helped me there successfully because President Dashrath Bhārgav was prudent enough to let his daughters study the time cycle of ending Trétā Yug.”
Dashrath Bhārgav smiled ruefully,
“No, my son, my son in law, it was not actually my prudence that helped you there. It was Padminī Bhārgav’s prudence instead that you always criticize as being a communal prudence.”
“Oh, come on, Dad, Mr. President, there are infinite Brahm Ayodhyā Creations now. The ever devotional traditional Brāhmañs are keeping the time cycle of ending Trétā Yug alive projecting it ever more everywhere than any other society.”
Prime Minister, Sumant Chaturvédī, interrupted,
“Pardon me, Vats Durgesh, you almost always blame us traditional Brāhmañs for keeping alive the projections of ending Trétā Yug in almost entire infinite Creations. But tell me one thing. Even if your theory is correct, aren’t our infinite Brāhmañ Creations better than the non Brāhmañ Creations, even if there is chaos here? Aren’t the non Brāhmañ Creations facing even worse chaos than we are? Yes, my childhood friend, President Dashrath Bhārgav couldn’t stop our first lady Kaikéyī Mukherjī from sending you in exile here, but he has successfully helped you here in attaining your Svarūpé Avasthānam, hasn’t he?”
“Of course, Dad, Prime Minister, Ārý Sumant, but is that enough?”*
Kaikéyī Mukherjī looked at Prime Minister, Sumant Chaturvédī, cunningly.
“Ārý Sumant, you don’t need to answer Durgesh here. If you really want to answer him and discuss this ‘very important’ matter any further, please leave Chaturvédī Brahm Ayodhyā Creations with him too for as many days as it is necessary for you. Don’t worry, you can return to Chaturvédī Brahm Ayodhyā whenever you want to. At present, I don’t want to listen to any more discussion between Durgesh and you.”
Dashrath Bhārgav whirled furiously at his Prime Minister, Sumant Chaturvédī,
“Sumant, my ever best childhood friend, can’t you see she is afraid of herself?”
“Afraid of herself, Mr. President?” Prime Minister, Sumant Chaturvédī, looked at Dashrath Bhārgav quite surprised.
“Sure, certainly, why not?” Dashrath Bhārgav said sarcastically, “Your first lady, Kaikéyī Mukherjī, knows very well that it’s not Rām Chaturvédī she had brought up here. He has attained his Svarūpé Avasthānam now.”
“Svarūpé Avasthānam, hell,” Kaikéyī Mukherjī laughed smirking Dashrath Bhārgav, “You have simply kidnapped my son, Rām Chaturvédī, and Durgesh has taken his place. That’s why my husband Dashrath Chaturvédī was sent to Bhārgav Brahm Ayodhyā Creations and you were brought here. What do you think, Kaikéyī Mukherjī was born yesterday? I want Durgesh in exile from Chaturvédī Brahm Ayodhyā Creations, not because I want my son Bharat Chaturvédī to head Chaturvédī Brahm Ayodhyā Creations, but because I want to destroy HVSI Creations’s conspiracy against us traditional Brāhmañ Creations.”
Dashrath Bhārgav knew very well who was to be exiled actually.
Durgesh was almost in every household of United BrahmKanyā Brahmāñī Brāhmañ Creations.
Entire infinite Brahm Ayodhyā Creations were not out of United BrahmKanyā Brahmāñī Brāhmañ Creations.
If Kaikéyī Mukherjī really wanted to exile Durgesh from Chaturvédī Brahm Ayodhyā Creations, it served no purpose at all.
Durgesh was still there in almost every household.
So what was actually Kaikéyī Mukherjī after?
Did she really believe in what she claimed?
She really believed Rām Chaturvédī hadn’t attained any Svarūpé Avasthānam?
There wasn’t any Svarūpé Avasthānam at all?
It was only some ingenious political strategy of the Vedic Monotheist Hindus and the ever shrewdest Bachhalyās?
But even Pātanjal Yogdarshanam talks of Svarūpé Avasthānam.
Dashrath Bhārgav married his daughter Sītā Bhārgav with Rām Chaturvédī.
If Rām Chaturvédī is really kidnapped, is his daughter now wife of Durgesh, instead of Rām Chaturvédī?
Dashrath Bhārgav knows very well he hasn’t kidnapped Rām Chaturvédī.
How the hell can he?
Kaushalyā Bhārgav was stunned.
“What? Kaikéyī Mukherjī has asked for your exile from Dashrath Bhārgav, for fourteen years? But how can she?”
“I damn care, Mātr’shrī.” I said in my Rām Chaturvédī body, “I am going.”
“Rām, it’s not Trétā Yug now. Neither you are Lord Rām.”
Sītā Mithiléshvarī Rāvañi entered there smiling,
“He was himself Lord Rām, mātéshvarī,”
“Sītā Mithiléshvarī Rāvañi,” Kaushalyā Bhārgav said somewhat exasperated, “It was only a political strategy our Jan Pravād Vibhāg, our rumors section spread everywhere prudently to take advantage of it and you know it. You are yourself not born in any non-political family.”
Sītā Mithiléshvarī Rāvañi Bhārgav smiled ironically,
“Svarñ Lankéshvar Brahm Samrāŧ Rāvañ Paulastý Bhārgav? He had abandoned me, mātéshvarī.”
“Forget it, Putrī, daughter in law,” Kaushalyā Bhārgav said, “Brother Svarñ Lankéshvar Brahm Samrāŧ Rāvañ Paulastý Bhārgav has declared now that it was only his political strategy then, to get rid of some political problems he was facing then.”
“Mātéshvarī,” Sītā Mithiléshvarī Rāvañi Bhārgav smiled ironically, “I have come here to take you with us.”
Kaushalyā Bhārgav was surprised immensely,
“Wherever Durgesh is going in his Rām Chaturvédī body.”
“Sītā, I can’t leave Chaturvédī Brahm Ayodhyā, and you know it.”
“No, I don’t know,” Sītā Mithiléshvarī Rāvañi Bhārgav said doggedly, stubbornly, “will you please tell me kindly, mother, why the hell can’t you leave this bloody wretched Chaturvédī Brahm Ayodhyā? What the hell is here for you? You are not even first lady here.”
I looked at Sītā Mithiléshvarī Rāvañi Bhārgav.
In her original physical body we were in Chaturang Shāshvat Maithunyog.
It was her projected etheric body.*
Laxmañ Chaturvédī was doggedly against it,
“No, Bhaiyā, we won’t leave. We have to destroy, to amend this bloody wretched time cycle.”
“I never told you to leave your fatherland, Laxmañ,” I smiled.
“You know me better, Brother, Bhrātr’shrī. I was never a nationalist, confined to my nation only. Of course, I love my nation, even more than the so called nationalists do. Who the damnfool says Vibhīshañ didn’t love Lankā? It’s only the ever unjust anti-Hindu anti-human interpretation of our ever human Hindu history.”
“The ever anti human nationalists that always want to spread their legs out of their own confined nation, and want to attack other nations inhumanly, use this disguise to fulfill their own dirty wretched vested selfish interests.”
“I’m proud of you, Laxmañ.” I was overwhelmed, “Now, I believe your own Svarūpé Avasthānam has itself occurred, almost completely.”
“Well,” my younger brother in my Rām Chaturvédī body, Laxmañ Chaturvédī, hesitated somewhat, “I don’t think so, brother. I think the process is still continued.”
“You don’t think you are Laxmañ originally, even now?”
“No, brother. I think I’m Prakāsh instead, originally.”
“I see,” Urmilā Mithiléshvarī Bhārgav looked at her Chaturvédī Brāhmañ husband, Laxmañ Chaturvédī, then she looked at me, “Bhaiyā, Brother, my theory is correct.”
“What?” Laxmañ Chaturvédī almost jumped, “I’m becoming Sarvochch Brahmarshi, Om Prakāsh? Brother, Bharat Chaturvédī is becoming Financial Administrator of HVSI Creations, Ved Prakāsh?”*
Mantharā Bhārgav was shrewd enough that she managed Urmilā Mithiléshvarī Bhārgav not only to romance with me, but even make love to me, when she was not married to Laxmañ Chaturvédī.
It was in my original Durgesh body.
I never knew then that I was Rām Chaturvédī too, originally, Laxmañ Chaturvédī was Prakāsh originally and Bharat Chaturvédī was Ved Prakāsh originally.
I didn’t only love Urmilā Mithiléshvarī Bhārgav but we even made love with each other.
Urmilā Mithiléshvarī Bhārgav, naturally revolted when her father, Kushdhvaj Bhārgav, informed her to marry with Laxmañ Chaturvédī.
“What the hell, Dad, Pitr’shrī, how can I? You know I love Durgesh, he is my boyfriend. Yet you…”
“Well, I told President Dashrath Chaturvédī,” President Kushdhvaj Bhārgav, Sankāshý Bhārgav Creations smiled, “He is thorough gentleman. Neither President Dashrath Chaturvédī, nor his ever righteous son, Laxmañ Chaturvédī, has any objection. They understand it’s normal nowadays that…”
“Well, I have objection and it’s not normal for me.” Urmilā Mithiléshvarī Bhārgav interrupted her father, furiously.
President Kushdhvaj Bhārgav, Sankāshý Bhārgav Creations, smiled patiently.
He knew it was not an easy task.
Sītā Mithiléshvarī Rāvañi decided too late.
She wasn’t as modern as to have any boyfriend, but his daughters, Māndavī Mithiléshvarī Bhārgav, Urmilā Mithiléshvarī Bhārgav and Shrutkīrti Mithiléshvarī Bhārgav never lived in Trétā Yug, as Sītā Mithiléshvarī Rāvañi Bhārgav did.
She imitated almost everything Brahm Jagdambā Sītā Rāvañi Paulastý did.
Māndavī Mithiléshvarī Bhārgav, Urmilā Mithiléshvarī Bhārgav, and Shrutkīrti Mithiléshvarī Bhārgav, all the three were my own girlfriends in my original Durgesh body and we had sex also.
All the four of us.*
Not only Prime Minister, Sumant Chaturvédī, but even Sītā Mithiléshvarī Rāvañi Bhārgav and Laxmañ Chaturvédī marveled at the inside of the unique spaceship especially designed for me only.
There were similar spaceships that were especially designed for, Prakāsh, Ved Prakāsh, Udaý and Shlésh.
The ships were named ‘Sarvochch Brahmarshi’, ‘Arth Prashāsak’, ‘Brahmarshi 3’ and ‘Brahmarshi 4’.
Only the man, the ship was especially designed for, could pilot it, none else.
The Spaceship was not new however to anyone of us.
Even Prime Minister, Sumant Chaturvédī, had traveled in it with me and his numerous Chaturvédī Brāhmañ Brahm Jagdambā daughters.
However, these Spaceships needed seven ashvinātam pairs too, one ashvinātar pair and at least two normal ashvinā pairs more.
These ten pairs supplied these Spaceships the required Bio Electricity duly converted into EV diamagnetic force.
The utilization of space was ingenious.
Padminī Bhārgav had asked.
“Can’t even HVSI design such a Spaceship without any necessity of ashvinātam pairs?”
I had laughed,
“Ask or suggest it to Prakāsh. I never interfere with production in any manner whatsoever. The communists did it irrevocably erroneously and lost their administrative powers within 72 years only. I never want to repeat what the damnfools did.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Gotrbhid Mahā Bhārat
Shūdrasý tu Savarñaiv Nānyā Bhāryā vidhīyaté
‘Jāti Pānti Poochhé Nahin Koī,
Hari ko bhajé so Hari kā Hoī’
1/18: Ādi Parv
Chitrāngadā Pārāshar went to the faucet, got water and washed them down.
Brahm Dīpti Dwivédī was dumbfounded.
She had never even imagined, her Bhābhī, Chitrāngadā Pārāshar, would do it.
There must have been two dozens of the sleeping tablets.
Justice Sunandā Bhaŧŧāchārý had the first reaction to notify the police.
It was a police case, and she was an officer of the court.
She was a Justice.
But the problem was that they may make a stink, a scandal out of it.
Every officer of the police was not as responsible as he/she should have been.
Her brain said,
‘Go ahead and notify them. It’s the only thing that can be done. The police will take Chitrāngadā Pārāshar to a hospital, pump her stomach out and save her life.’
But immediately there was a contradiction from her same brain.
‘Why don’t you call your own reliable Doctor? You are a Justice. It’s your friend’s life at stake.’
‘It might be too late.’ Her brain again contradicted her, ‘Even Chitrāngadā Pārāshar may refuse to let her Doctor treat her. You have to wait until after Chitrāngadā Pārāshar becomes unconscious, and by that time…No, Justice Sunandā Bhaŧŧāchārý, call the police. Tell them the story.’
‘How? How the story should be told to the police?’
‘Tell it straight, Justice Sunandā Bhaŧŧāchārý. Simply tell them that it’s another Bachhalyā Brahmāñī story. Chitrāngadā Pārāshar couldn’t understand when it was the appropriate time for her to decide, that being a BrahmKanyā, she should never marry a Brāhmañ. No Brāhmañ today is a real Brāhmañ, as no Musalmān today is a true Musalmān. The Musalmān houseladies need a Hindu man for their love life. Similarly a BrahmKanyā needs a Bachhalyā man for her love life. Both the Musalmīn and Brāhmañs are never practical for their womankind. They both dream of an utmost high character from their womankind, but to their mankind their approach is totally different. They suddenly become practical for themselves, but never practical for their womankind.
‘Tell the police that Chitrāngadā Pārāshar was forced to maintain clandestine love life with Durgesh. Her Nanad, her sister in law, Brahm Dīpti Dwivédī reproached Chitrāngadā Pārāshar for it, even while she herself was maintaining a sexual relationship with Durgesh, yet openly. Chitrāngadā Pārāshar could not bear her so irrational, so scornfully communal criticism of her entirely clandestine sexual relationship with Durgesh. She grabbed a handful of sleeping tablets trying to commit suicide.’*
Justice Sunandā Bhaŧŧāchārý’s brain was still bombarding her,
‘If Chitrāngadā Pārāshar couldn’t have a Bachhalyā lover, she refused even to live?’
‘Why shouldn’t Chitrāngadā Pārāshar? Brahm Dīpti Dwivédī was nobody to tell Chitrāngadā Pārāshar how Chitrāngadā Pārāshar should live, as well as Chitrāngadā Pārāshar didn’t have any legal right to tell Brahm Dīpti Dwivédī how Brahm Dīpti Dwivédī should live.’
‘But Brahm Dīpti Dwivédī is Chitrāngadā Pārāshar’s sister in law.’
‘Sure, but the law never gives any legal right to any sister in law to tell her sister in law how she should live.’
Justice Sunandā Bhaŧŧāchārý’s mental process suddenly took a new turn,
‘Should I let the police think that Brahm Dīpti Dwivédī is the one who saw Chitrāngadā Pārāshar do it?’
‘Why not? What’s wrong in it?’
‘Nothing, I think.’
‘That’s right. Don’t answer the questions in details. You don’t need to. Act to be in a hurry. Use your judicial status to save yourself from answering detailed questions, either this way or that. Simply tell the police Brahm Dīpti Dwivédī abused Chitrāngadā Pārāshar on her sexual relationship with Durgesh and Chitrāngadā Pārāshar took the sleeping tablets in protest.’
Justice Sunandā Bhaŧŧāchārý found now more confident herself.
She informed the police.
She was surprised when almost immediately Justice Sunandā Bhaŧŧāchārý heard the siren.
Justice Sunandā Bhaŧŧāchārý looked at her wristwatch.
Not more than a couple of anxious minutes had passed.
The siren sounded at first faint in the distance, then Justice Sunandā Bhaŧŧāchārý heard it screaming to a high pitched crescendo of urgency.
‘Well,’ Justice Sunandā Bhaŧŧāchārý thought to herself smiling proudly, ‘my judicial status really did wonders. I never expected such a fast action from the police. I know them. It pays to be in a high official position. That must be a radio/mobile car coming now.’
Justice Sunandā Bhaŧŧāchārý advanced to a window.
Now, she could look down the street.
‘Oh, nope,’ she murmured to herself, ‘it isn’t a radio/mobile car. It’s an ambulance instead. Red light going and all the rest of it.’
The ambulance parked by the apartment house.
Two white clad attendants entered the door.
Her mental process started again,
‘I can’t figure this one out. Hell, I thought the police would get here first and then phone for an ambulance.’
‘They are probably taking your word for it and figure Chitrāngadā Pārāshar has go to a hospital. After all you are a high positioned court official, a Justice at High Court.’
Justice Sunandā Bhaŧŧāchārý smiled satisfactorily.
‘If police aren’t there, Chitrāngadā Pārāshar may refuse to go and…’
‘Chitrāngadā Pārāshar may be groggy by this time.’
‘I don’t think the stuff works that fast. Moreover, Durgesh was still fucking Chitrāngadā Pārāshar when she swallowed those sleeping tablets. Durgesh himself would be in action too as Justice Sunandā Bhaŧŧāchārý is. Chitrāngadā Pārāshar can’t die till Durgesh is fucking her. Chitrāngadā Pārāshar may come out under her own power still being fucked by Durgesh.’
Justice Sunandā Bhaŧŧāchārý smiled cunningly,
‘Don’t they say Durgesh’s ever incredible Bachhalyā Lund has miraculous powers too? No woman can suffer from old age, illness, etcetera, if Durgesh is fucking her. She wouldn’t die ever even.’
‘Nonsense, Durgesh too, is a human being only.
‘The Bachhalyās are miraculously expert in spreading rumors in Durgesh’s favor, positively always. Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is herself helping the Bachhalyās and HVSI to get benefited herself. Padminī Bhārgav and Umā Jagdambā Pārvatī Chakrvartī are also doing the same thing.
‘Justice Sunandā Bhaŧŧāchārý isn’t against it until it’s benefiting the society and human beings.
‘The end justifies the means.
Suddenly Justice Sunandā Bhaŧŧāchārý was startled.
Hey Bhagvān, God, are the BrahmKanyās, and the Brahmāñīs too, imitating Musalmān Beauties and Musalmān houseladies in their every step?
Hémā Upādhyāý was herself a High Court Justice.
She was happily married with Justice Vinīt Chaturvédī.
When Justice Sunandā Bhaŧŧāchārý found that Justice Hémā Upādhyāý is maintaining her extramarital affair with me, Justice Sunandā Bhaŧŧāchārý was dumbfounded.
“Hémā, Justice Hémā Upādhyāý, you too?” she could not believe it.
Still extremely beautiful, Justice Hémā Upādhyāý, smiled at her.
“Sorry, Sunandā, I don’t know how can you limit yourself to an ever impractical Brāhmañ husband. I can’t, my dear.”
“But, but Hémā, Justice Hémā Upādhyāý, Durgesh is fucking you not in your Pussy. Durgesh is fucking you in your ass.” Justice Sunandā Bhaŧŧāchārý was still startled.
Justice Hémā Upādhyāý smiled.
“Sorry, I requested him persistently to do it with me too.”
“With you too? What do you mean?”
“You know my maternal cousin, Justice Fātimah Aħmad, don’t you?”
“Once I sauntered to her bedroom and found she was requesting Durgesh to fuck her in her ass.”
“Hémā, Hémā,” Justice Sunandā Bhaŧŧāchārý addressed her ever best friend impatiently, “your maternal cousin, Justice Fātimah Aħmad, is a Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān. They have different culture, different needs consequently.”
“Nonsense,” Hémā Upādhyāý ignored her argument, “Fātimah was enjoying it very much. I decided I should also try the same.”
Despite Justice Sunandā Bhaŧŧāchārý’s extensive arguments and explanations, Justice Hémā Upādhyāý was still enjoying my ever aggressive, Ever Sexiest Bachhalyā Lund, into her ever gorgeous Upādhyāý Brāhmañ ass.
Not in her bedroom even, inside.
Justice Hémā Upādhyāý was enjoying me in her gorgeous Upādhyāý Brāhmañ ass on the open window, directly opposite to the window Justice Sunandā Bhaŧŧāchārý was watching through.*
Justice Sunandā Bhaŧŧāchārý rushed to bring Justice Hémā Upādhyāý to her senses.
She had seen Justice Hémā Upādhyāý wasn’t alone there.
There were six more Hémās.
Justice Hémā Bhārgav.
She was straddling on my Ever Sexiest ever erect Bachhalyā Lund, I was lying on my back and Justice Hémā Bhārgav was fucking me cunningly.
There was a triumphant smart smile on her lips and eyes.
Her Bhārgav Brāhmañ Choot was swallowing my Bachhalyā Lund sophisticatedly, impishly yet still ravenously.
Justice Sunandā Bhaŧŧāchārý never knew Justice Hémā Bhārgav and Justice Hémā Upādhyāý were such a close friend that they could fuck me together.
Justice Hémā Pandit was the third Justice there.
She was sucking my Bachhalyā Lund, proudly.
Justice Hémā Pārāshar was Chitrāngadā Pārāshar’s real elder sister, and well, she was enjoying my Bachhalyā Lund in the same way, Justice Hémā Upādhyāý was enjoying, in her Pārāshar Brāhmañ ass.
Justice Hémā Pārāshar’s extremely beautiful big Pārāshar Brāhmañ buttocks were filling my nude Bachhalyā lap ravenously, swallowing my Ever Sexiest ever erect Bachhalyā Lund between them again and again.
And, what the hell!
Justice Hémā Pāŧhak, Pārvatī Pāŧhak’s sister was also welcoming my Ever Sexiest ever erect ever aggressive Bachhalyā Lund between her extremely beautiful white, pink, big, Pāŧhak Brāhmañ buttocks.
My Bachhalyā Lund was penetrating her Pāŧhak Brāhmañ ass aggressively itself.
Hey Bhagvān, God, were they contesting with each other in anal sex?
The sixth was Justice Hémā Mukherjī.
No, she wasn’t receiving my Bachhalyā Lund into her big buttocked Mukherjī Brāhmañ ass.
No, her Mukherjī Brāhmañ ass was not less beautiful than the rest of the six Hémās present there.
All the seven Hémās there were big buttocked and had extremely beautiful Brāhmañ ass.
Yet, I wasn’t fucking Justice Hémā Mukherjī in her beautiful Brāhmañ ass.
My Ever Sexiest ever erect ever aggressive Bachhalyā Lund was penetrating her more beautiful Mukherjī Brāhmañ Choot now.
Justice Hémā Joshī was the seventh and last there.
And hell, my Ever Sexiest ever erect ever aggressive Bachhalyā Lund was penetrating her extremely beautiful Joshī Brāhmañ ass too.
It was certainly some contest in anal sex among them.
But why then…
Seven High Court Justice,
All of them named Hémā.
All of them sophisticated mature Brāhmañ ladies,
None of them was as crazy as Justice Hémā Upādhyāý was, to admire anal sex that much.
Was there any connection among these similarities?
Justice Sunandā Bhaŧŧāchārý could not think of any.
Why shouldn’t she go there and find out what the hell was happening there?
Yet, suddenly she stopped.
The two white clad attendants came out supporting a young woman.
She was walking between them, still on her knees and elbows, still I was fucking her.
Her head was hanging limply.
Justice Sunandā Bhaŧŧāchārý couldn’t see whether she was Chitrāngadā Pārāshar or not.
But who else could she be?
They were going to the ambulance now.
She was droopy.
They had to hold her up.
Therefore it was natural they were getting in the way again and again.
Justice Sunandā Bhaŧŧāchārý still couldn’t see Chitrāngadā Pārāshar’s face clearly that how ill she was actually now.
The ambulance took off up the street, moving at high speed, siren screaming for the right of way.*
The wedding had been nice, but the reception was a real blast.
Drink flowed freely, and a large number of the attendees were a little over the top before the night ended.
One could spot the designated drivers by their sour looks, but most people had arranged for taxis or were staying overnight at the hotel.
I was overnighting myself.
I was the best man.
I suppose I could have joined in and got plastered with the rest, but I’d promised to keep an eye on things and make sure that everyone got away safely.
With all the people there I’d figured that the ones I’d have least concern for were the bride and groom.
They had a suite booked in the hotel and were leaving bright and early for their honeymoon.
I was actually a little surprised as the night wore on to see that Justice Vinīt Chaturvédī and Justice Hémā Upādhyāý were still at the reception.
It seemed to me that Justice Hémā Upādhyāý had a rather frozen look on her face, but Justice Vinīt Chaturvédī was still knocking them back and being the life of the party.
We’d promised the hotel that we’d all be gone by eleven, so shortly before that I started chasing out the stragglers.
With them gone I found I was left with two late stayers – the bride and groom.
I moved over to give them some final congratulations.
Justice Hémā Upādhyāý just gave me a helpless look and Justice Vinīt Chaturvédī was just lolling in his chair, a big smirk on his face.
He was plastered.
If we could get him to stand I’d have laid odds that he’d just fall flat on his face.
I felt tempted to let him, but an unspoken plea from Justice Hémā Upādhyāý had me behaving and offering some proper help.
I levered Justice Vinīt Chaturvédī to his feet and guided his staggering way towards the elevators.
Once in one, I propped him against a wall and we sailed up to the bridal suite.
By the time we reached it, Justice Vinīt Chaturvédī was out cold.
When the lift reached the right floor I just bent down and lifted Justice Vinīt Chaturvédī in a fireman’s carry, following Justice Hémā Upādhyāý down the hall to their suite.
Entering the suite, I dumped Justice Vinīt Chaturvédī on the couch.
Damned if I was carrying him to the bedroom.
I helped Justice Hémā Upādhyāý take off his shoes and outer clothes and we just left him there, snoring as though he invented it.
He was out of action until the morning.
I said goodnight to Justice Hémā Upādhyāý and was about to depart when I noticed she was biting her lip.
Something was troubling her besides Justice Vinīt Chaturvédī getting blotto, and she didn’t know how to mention it.
I’ve always had a very soft spot for Justice Hémā Upādhyāý.
If Justice Vinīt Chaturvédī hadn’t come along with his flamboyant style there was a good chance I might have made a determined play for her myself.
Anyway, considering her carefully as I prepared to depart, it suddenly dawned on me what her problem was.
She was still in her wedding dress, and it was big and heavy and Justice Hémā Upādhyāý had had two bridesmaids to help her put it on.
It had been assumed by everyone that the groom would help her remove it, but the groom was out cold on the couch.
“You can’t take your dress off by yourself,” I guessed. “Do you want me to ring up Justice Sunandā Bhaŧŧāchārý and Justice Della Harrington to come and help? They’re overnighting in the hotel.”
Justice Hémā Upādhyāý bit her lip and shook her head.
“They left earlier and they’re probably both in bed. I don’t want to drag them out just because Justice Vinīt Chaturvédī had a couple too many.”
“A couple?” I thought.
I mean, the man was plastered.
Still chewing on her lip Justice Hémā Upādhyāý finally said what she wanted.
“Um, I know it’s a lot to ask, Durgesh, but could you come in, unzip me and help me place the dress on its stand. It’ll only take a minute.”
What could I say?
I didn’t really have a choice.
I gestured for her to lead the way.
“Why does it need to be on a stand?” I asked.
“We’re leaving it here when we go in the morning,” Justice Hémā Upādhyāý informed me. “The hotel are going to pack it properly and send it to mum’s place. That means that when we get up we can just dress, grab out bags and jump in the taxi and it’s
Bachhalyā BrahmKanyā Bachhalyā Brahmāñī Island, here we come.”
Standing next to the bed Justice Hémā Upādhyāý turned her back to me.
She’d chosen to wear a family dress, handed down through several generations.
Quite a lovely gown, but a trifle old fashioned in the making of it.
That was the problem.
Just a long row of little cunningly positioned hooks and eyes, each one having to be undone separately.
Starting at the top I went slowly down that long row, undoing every hook and eye I encountered.
Every bloody one of them.
What happened after that was not my fault.
Justice Hémā Upādhyāý had been holding the dress to her so it wouldn’t sag and it turned out that the idea was that as soon as all the hooks were unhooked I had to lift the dress up and over her head and drop it on the stand.
That was no problem, lift dress, turn and lower dress onto stand, turn back to Justice Hémā Upādhyāý to see her bra falling away, exposing a lovely pair of white breasts, tipped with an exquisite pink bud, leaving Justice Hémā Upādhyāý standing there in a pair of white satin panties, panties that were supposed to stimulate the groom into action.
It seemed that a pair of the hooks I’d unhooked were the hooks on the bra, and I deny that I undid them deliberately.
Justice Hémā Upādhyāý promptly slapped her hands over her breasts, blushing.
Too late, as I had already seen and admired, and an error of strategy as that wasn’t what she should have been defending.
It wasn’t premeditated.
I just seemed to go on auto-pilot, kneeling in front of her, taking the wisp of white she still had on and removing it, even lightly slapping Justice Hémā Upādhyāý‘s ankle to get her to lift it so I could peel it right off.
Then I rose to my feet, gently pulled Justice Hémā Upādhyāý’s hands away from her breasts and admired her nudity.
“You’ve been looking forward to this night for months,” I said, my voice a silken murmur. “You’re still a virgin and you’ve psyched yourself up for it. It would be crime to send you to a virginal bed looking like that.”
The bed had already been turned down.
All the occupants had to do was lie down and flick the blankets over themselves.
I just eased Justice Hémā Upādhyāý over to it and pushed her gently down.
She watched as I undressed, shaking her head, telling me I couldn’t, she was married now, Justice Vinīt Chaturvédī was in the next room.
Then it was my turn to shake my head.
“I don’t care,” I said, and settled onto the bed beside her.
She was still softly protesting as my hand settled on her breast, not shutting up until I closed her mouth with mine.
Her protests I had noticed had all been verbal.
Physically, she hadn’t tried to resist in any manner whatsoever, nor did she start doing so when I started to caress her.
I took it slowly, building up excitement within her by my lips and gentle stroking hands, starting with her face, moving on to her breasts, touching and kissing, building up tactile sensations over her entire body, until finally my Bachhalyā hand was resting on her Upādhyāý Brāhmañ mound, coaxing yet further excitement out of her.
I could feel the heat and dampness within her, and it wasn’t long before I was rolling on top of her, nestling between her extremely beautiful nude Upādhyāý Brāhmañ thighs and easing them further apart.
Then I eased my Bachhalyā erection against her, feeling her lips yield to the steady pressure, giving way and granting admission to her excellent exquisite Upādhyāý Brāhmañ body.
Once I had started to penetrate her I just moved steadily forward, brushing past her Upādhyāý Brāhmañ hymen with barely a wince from her, sinking deeper into her hot moist Upādhyāý Brāhmañ passage.
Once we were both comfortable with my Bachhalyā penetration of her Upādhyāý Brāhmañ body I started to move.
I didn’t want to perform any sexual gymnastics, no hard hammering of her tender young Upādhyāý Brāhmañ pussy, no changing of position, just a gentle and tender loving.
We moved together softly, pleasure invading us, but slowly, increasing in intensity, but slowly.
We stayed together, rocking together, enjoying this first ever encounter with each other’s body, slowly going on and on.
It took a while, but it was still too soon when Justice Hémā Upādhyāý stiffened, her eyes opening wide.
“Durgesh?” she called as she started to shudder.
I gave a hurried Bachhalyā thrust, releasing the climax that I’d been fighting off for so long, letting it tear into me while Justice Hémā Upādhyāý shuddered and clung to me, savagely now.
We lay together, me just holding Justice Hémā Upādhyāý while she snuggled next to me. Then she slept.
Watching her sleep, I sighed, but eventually I rose, dressed and retired to my own room, setting my alarm for early in the morning.
I had to see Justice Vinīt Chaturvédī and Justice Hémā Upādhyāý on their way.
I was asleep as soon as I hit the pillow, not stirring until the alarm sounded.
I groaned at that, got up, dressed and headed back to the bridal suite.
I knocked at the door but, receiving no answer, I used the spare key I had and let myself in.
Justice Vinīt Chaturvédī was still asleep on the couch, snoring lustily.
I shook him and tried to rouse him but he didn’t so much as budge.
Shrugging, I left him there and went into the bedroom.
Justice Hémā Upādhyāý must have heard me trying to wake Justice Vinīt Chaturvédī, as she was stirring when I walked in.
She sat up, the sheet falling from her, showing her breasts were as fine this morning as I remembered from last night.
She blinked at me a couple of times, and then memory surfaced.
She blushed and looked down.
Found she was sitting there with her breasts on display and grabbed the sheet with a strangled cry.
I said the hell with it, walked over to the bed and twitched the sheet out from her fingers, tossing it back so I could admire her.
Sitting down next to her I pushed her around so she was lying on her stomach.
She was starting to protest again, but I ignored that.
Once she was flat on her tummy I grabbed her big Upādhyāý Brāhmañ buttocks and lifted, encouraging her to bend her knees and take a kneeling position.
Justice Hémā Upādhyāý was looking back at me, horrified, knowing that the way she was, she was totally exposed to my Bachhalyā gaze.
I just smiled back at her.
I undid my trousers and dropped them, showing I had an Bachhalyā erection just as extreme as the one from the previous night.
“One of the first things a new bride needs to know is how to handle a morning glory,” I told her, and then I was coming into her from behind, hard and fast.
The previous night had defined gentleness.
This morning was the opposite.
I slammed into Justice Hémā Upādhyāý forcefully, driving her before me.
It was quickly evident from the way she entered into the battle that she was a willing partner, and together we slammed ourselves towards a climax.
It wasn’t all that long before I heard Justice Hémā Upādhyāý give a strangled Upādhyāý Brāhmañ cry and I saw her bury her head in the pillow.
I could hear muffled screams coming from her.
I felt like shouting myself as I let myself go, pounding my climax into her with all the Bachhalyā energy I could muster.
After that little effort I rushed Justice Hémā Upādhyāý into the shower, harrying her to get out and dressed as she had a taxi coming.
Another attempt to rouse Justice Vinīt Chaturvédī had proved futile, so I left him there.
Checking myself out of the hotel, I also settled the account for the bridal suite, although I told them that it would probably be occupied until about twelve.
They were very understanding.
Shortly after that Justice Hémā Upādhyāý was in her taxi, heading for the airport and her Bachhalyā BrahmKanyā Bachhalyā Brahmāñī Island honeymoon.
Now, the name of Island was exactly what we both were.
It wasn’t her fault that we couldn’t wake Justice Vinīt Chaturvédī in time to make the taxi, and it would have been no fun for her to honeymoon alone.
It was far too late to cancel the holiday and it had already been paid for.
I just naturally went with her.
Justice Hémā Upādhyāý celebrated her Honeymoon even longer than it was scheduled, but not with her husband Justice Vinīt Chaturvédī, with me instead.
She never allowed Justice Vinīt Chaturvédī to touch her even, after it.
She had celebrated her Golden Night with me, her Honeymoon with me, and now her entire life with me.
She told him,
“You love wine more than your wife, enjoy that for ever. Durgesh loves your wife more, let him enjoy me now. I married you, but due to your fault, Durgesh is my man now, not you, Justice Vinīt Chaturvédī.”
Yes, that was Justice Hémā Upādhyāý.
Entirely mine, though not married to me.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Gotrbhid Mahā Bhārat
Shūdrasý tu Savarñaiv Nānyā Bhāryā vidhīyaté
‘Jāti Pānti Poochhé Nahin Koī,
Hari ko bhajé so Hari kā Hoī’
1/18: Ādi Parv
I woke slowly.
Without opening my eyes, as the fog gradually cleared from my mind I realized that, first, I was not in my own room in my own bed.
In addition, I realized that my morning hard-on felt different.
More than different, it felt much, much better than usual.
The fog cleared slowly.
Eyes still closed I remembered that I was in the bed in Anurādhā Bhārgav’s spare room.
Bit by bit my mind cleared as I climbed toward the world of the awake.
Today was my birthday, my sixty fourth birthday.
Anurādhā Bhārgav had convinced me to stay over, promising that this would be the best birthday I’d ever had in Bhr’gu Creations.
I had smiled.
“Well, Anurādhā Bhārgav darling, Param Brahmarshi Bhagvān Bhr’gu has already passed a resolution here in the Bhr’gu Creations that any Bhārgav Beauty that does not want me her husband, has ultimately to leave Bhr’gu Creations for ever. She can visit Bhr’gu Creations if she wants but she can’t enjoy the citizenship of Bhr’gu Creations. What the hell more anyone can give to me here?”
Anurādhā Bhārgav smiled teasingly.
“Stay and find out, Param Purush.”
And now my morning hard-on felt different.
More than different, it felt much, much better than usual. It felt ─ warm and moist.
Something pulled gently on my cock.
Slowly I opened my eyes.
Anurādhā Bhārgav was looking up at me with a smile in her eyes — and my Bachhalyā Lund in her tremendously stunning Bhārgav Brāhmañ mouth.
Not, Uncut Hindu Lund.
In entire Bachhalyā Brahmkanyās Creations, Bachhalyā Brahmāñīs Creations and Other Brāhm Creations, they used their own Bījāxars strictly.
Sucking gently Anurādhā Bhārgav pulled her immensely splendid Bhārgav Brāhmañ mouth almost to the tip of my very hard, very big, morning hard-on.
And then, slowly, my very beautiful sister in law, Sālī, took my very big, very hard Bachhalyā Lund back into her extremely exquisite Bhārgav Brāhmañ mouth.
Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā! God, it felt so good!
She had never done it before.
Even though it was not only allowed in Bachhalyā Brahmkanyās Creations, Bachhalyā Brahmāñīs Creations, and Other Brāhm Creations, morally and legally, it was even expected from my Brāhmañ Sālīs, sisters in law, to honor me in this way.
In Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah Creations, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan had made it obligatory to Musalmān Beauties there.
Padminī Bhārgav didn’t want to be left behind.
Padminī Bhārgav had instead defeated Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan by passing an Act that in entire Bachhalyā Brahmkanyās Creations and Bachhalyā Brahmāñīs Creations too, every Brāhmañ Beauty was my wife by birth.She could marry someone else only if she is specifically permitted to do so.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan hadn’t gone that for.
Not because she couldn’t do it.
She even didn’t attempt to do it.
“Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is over possessive to Durgesh.” Padminī Bhārgav had criticized her, “She actually wants to keep Durgesh exclusively for herself.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan had only smiled on it and dismissed it without any response from her.*
Sunandā Bhārgav straddled on me.
“You have to do something, Jījū.” She said.
“Jījū?” I squeezed her buttocks, “Still Jījū? Sālī, now I’m not only your Padminī Bhārgav Dīdī’s husband, but your husband too as well.”
Sunandā Bhārgav didn’t respond to what I said.
Instead, she said.
“Padminī Bhārgav Dīdī sent Anurādhā Bhārgav to you. But it doesn’t seem to convince you, we really need your administrative services. Padminī Bhārgav Dīdī asked me consequently to take the matter in my own hands.”
“What about your Brāhmañ Beauties Squad Padminī Bhārgav organized on Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s request?
“What the hell can Brāhmañ Beauties Squad do in this matter, Jījū?”
“Stop calling me ‘Jījū’, you idiot.”
“I’m not idiot. I’m Space Security Incharge for Bhr’gu Creations. And I am doing my duty.”
“What have you found until now,Padminī Bhārgav had organized a BrahmPadminī Squad too, didn’t she?”*
Sunandā Bhārgav kept herself aloof.
“I don’t know. That’s Padminī Bhārgav Dīdī’s own personal squad.”
“To compete with Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s Seven movements? Do you damnfools really think I fall for beauty instead of brain?”
“Ask your own wife, Padminī Bhārgav Dīdī. Why the hell are you asking me? A huge celestial object, weighing ten trillion tons has suddenly appeared on the space of every inhabited planet of Bhr’gu Creations. It is hurtling through the every solar system of Bhr’gu Creations at inconceivable speed.”
“I know, I know, but…”*
It was impossible now to protect even one’s own space, even for a Creations, without the express cooperation of HVSI.
Sunandā Bhārgav regretted now she couldn’t understand what Param Brahmarshi Bhagvān Bhr’gu wanted when he propositioned the unavailability of citizenship for the Bhārgav Brāhmañ Beauties who refused to marry with Durgesh.
Yes, she was not alone.
But she led them.
She refused to cooperate even with her elder sister Padminī Bhārgav.
“Only because you love Durgesh, it doesn’t mean every Bhārgav Brāhmañ Beauty must also love him.”
Padminī Bhārgav said patronizingly.
“Sunandā, don’t act childish now.”
“I am not acting childish, you are acting childish. I am acting as a grown up. I refuse to delegate my fundamental women right to Param Brahmarshi Bhagvān Bhr’gu even that he would decide to whom I would marry.”
“Well, then you can’t get the citizenship of Bhārgav Brāhmañ Creations.”
“Why not? It’s my fundamental women right. I can marry anyone I damn please.”
“Sure.” Padminī Bhārgav smiled, “Similarly Bhārgav Brāhmañ Creations have their fundamental right to let enjoy their citizenship to anyone they damn please and refuse to grant this privilege to anyone they damn please. What the hell wrong in it?”*
I moaned, as Shiv Shankar Sharmā’s wife, Pārvatī Pāŧhak, attacked my Bachhalyā Lund like a street whore, impishly.
“Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā! Slow down, Pārvatī Pāŧhak, my Pāŧhak Brāhmañ sweetheart,” I said as I felt my Bachhalyā balls start to tingle.
But Pārvatī Pāŧhak just took me deeper into her extremely beautiful Pāŧhak Brāhmañ mouth, her hot tongue massaging my entire Bachhalyā shaft, her hands cupping my Bachhalyā balls.
I came. Hard.
Spurt after spurt spewed down Shiv Shankar Sharmā’s wife’s throat.
Pārvatī Pāŧhak swallowed my every Bachhalyā drop, and then sucked and licked my great Bachhalyā Lund clean.
She was doing it more proudly now.
Getting rid of Shiv Shankar Sharmā for ever, now I was the only man in her life.
Pārvatī Pāŧhak was cursing herself for choosing Shiv Shankar Sharmā her life partner ab initio.
He never deserved the honor.
Despite his every effort to act to be a humanitarian, Pārvatī Pāŧhak knew he was actually a traditional communal Brāhmañ.
Pārvatī Pāŧhak didn’t know it when she married him.
Yet she was happy now that she accepted Shiv Shankar Sharmā’s suggestion now to sacrifice herself for their great Brāhmañ community’s ultimate welfare.
She was herself worried that Musalmān Beauties, and Musalmān houseladies even, were dominating now capable and powerful Hindus’ sex life more and more day by day.
Yes, they were so many times more in number than BrahmKanyās and Brahmāñīs were, but it should never mean that the BrahmKanyās and Brahmāñīs should lose the capable and powerful Hindus forever, not to Musalmān Beauties only but to ever shrewder Musalmān houseladies even.
Pārvatī Pāŧhak looked up at me with those big green eyes.
“Please don’t be angry. I attacked you sexually as if I were street whore to you, only impishly.”
“I know you, Pārvatī Bhābhī,” I said gravely, “Don’t worry.”
Pārvatī Pāŧhak blushed.
“Stop calling me ‘Bhābhī’ now.”
“Bad habits die gradually.”
Pārvatī Pāŧhak laughed sarcastically,
“Of course! Bad habits! Sālī, I never wanted to call you ‘Bhābhī’.”
“Bachhalyā scoundrel! I never thought you wanted to fuck me right from the beginning.”
I winked at Pārvatī Pāŧhak lewdly.
“What’s wrong there now in accepting the truth?”
Pārvatī Pāŧhak held her head high.
“I am honored. Thank you.”
“Did you really never understand when I teased you before you married Shiv Shankar Sharmā?”
Pārvatī Pāŧhak retorted.
“What the hell was there to understand? You were so loudly obvious. You hugged me, you kissed me, you squeezed my breasts, you squeezed my buttocks, even tried to give your ever sexiest Bachhalyā Lund into my Pāŧhak Brāhmañ fist. Once you undressed me even completely despite my protests while you were already nude, and tried to fuck me even.”
I looked into her beautiful Brāhmañ eyes significantly.
“Tried to fuck you? Only tried to fuck you?”
Pārvatī Pāŧhak hesitated somewhat.
Then she admitted boldly.
“Well, you took my virginity and fucked me furiously for eighteen months completely nonstop. It was not our first Honeymoon that lasted for one month plus only. That was our actual Honeymoon that lasted for eighteen months.”
“And as soon as I pulled out of you, you married Shiv Shankar Sharmā.” I complained her.
Pārvatī Pāŧhak brought down her eyes.
“Sorry, I could not bear that. I was afraid of your Bachhalyā hyper sex. I was brought up in a Pāŧhak Brāhmañ environment. And you impregnated me.”
“What?” I jumped in extremely pleasant astonishment.
“Yes, Brahmesh Sharmā is actually your son, not of Shiv Shankar Sharmā.” Pārvatī Pāŧhak looked at me gravely.
I was dumbfounded.
Pārvatī Pāŧhak smiled courteously.
“What’s there to be surprised? You impregnated more women than even really know. You have more sons from your women than even you know of. We always lie to you in the matter due to various reasons.”
I could not believe her.
“But…but you too enjoyed that eighteen month great sex session of us.”
“Well, yes. It was my ever first sex session. I couldn’t resist it. Could I?”*
Anurādhā Bhārgav was, and still is, one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen ─ naked or otherwise!
She had short blond hair that framed a sweet, angelic face.
Anurādhā Bhārgav was about five three, shorter than I was.
Her tits were big and very firm.
Her stomach was flat and her waist was small.
Her gorgeous Bhārgav Brāhmañ ass was incredible, heavy, big and tight.
In Bhārgav Brāhmañ Beauties, only Padminī Bhārgav had more beautiful ass than Anurādhā Bhārgav.
And at the top of the two most beautiful long legs was the world’s most perfect Bhārgav Brāhmañ Pussy, after that of Padminī Bhārgav, of course.
Anurādhā Bhārgav was slowly and gently sucking my Bachhalyā Lund again in and out of the prettiest Bhārgav Brāhmañ mouth I’d ever seen, after that of Padminī Bhārgav.
Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā, it felt so good!
“Happy birthday, Durgesh!” Anurādhā Bhārgav wished me again.
And then she slid her tremendously stunning Bhārgav Brāhmañ mouth back down the full length of my Bachhalyā Lund.
As Anurādhā Bhārgav pulled back, sucking just a little harder, I came.
Head back, eyes closed again, I shot my Bachhalyā cum into her tremendously stunning Bhārgav Brāhmañ mouth.
And she swallowed it and sucked some more, and swallowed again.
My eyes opened again and I watched as she licked the cum from the tip of my Bachhalyā Lund.
“I told you this would be the best birthday ever, didn’t I?” She licked my Bachhalyā Lund again before she came to her knees.*
Anurādhā Bhārgav was totally nude.
Her tits were even more perfect than they had looked through the not quite closed doors, her tummy even flatter and her Bhārgav Brāhmañ Pussy even more beautiful.
Slowly she moved up until her exquisite tremendously beautiful Bhārgav Brāhmañ Cunt was rubbing the underside of my still throbbing Bachhalyā Lund.
She rocked her hips gently against my Bachhalyā hard-on for just a few minutes before I almost came again, once more.
“You like my Bhārgav Brāhmañ Pussy, don’t you, Durgesh?” She moved slowly up the bed towards my face on her knees. “Did you ever think you’d get to see it so close?” She stopped just inches from my mouth.
Her skin was soft and smooth, her Bhārgav Brāhmañ Pussy shaved totally clean.
“Did you think I didn’t know you were watching? Did you think I left the doors opened by accident? I knew you were watching, my Bachhalyā Jījū. I wanted you to watch. Did you know I watched you? Did you know I watched you in the morning when you woke up and stroked that utmost handsome Bachhalyā Lund until you came? Do you know how often I was tempted to come into your room and suck on that big hard Bachhalyā Lund like I did this morning? But I knew you’d wait and I wanted your next birthday to be one you would never forget!”
I hadn’t been awake very long and I was already sure she had managed that!
“Do you know what your next present is going to be, my Bachhalyā Jījū? You get to kiss me there! You get to kiss this Bhārgav Brāhmañ Pussy until I’m unable to resist to cum!” She rocked her hips forward and her exquisite tremendously beautiful Bhārgav Brāhmañ Cunt was right there.
She rocked back and tried to catch her breath.
“How do you like your birthday presents so far, my Bachhalyā Jījū? Your first blow job from me and your first Bachhalyā kiss on my Bhārgav Brāhmañ Pussy. Now I have another first for you.” She moved slowly back down the bed, lifted her gorgeous Bhārgav Brāhmañ ass slightly and guided my hard on slowly into her Bhārgav Brāhmañ Pussy.
“Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā! God, Anurādhā Bhārgav, that feels so good!”
“Hmmm, it does, doesn’t it?” She started moving slowly up and down, back and forth, pushing her Bhārgav Brāhmañ Pussy all the way down on my Bachhalyā Lund and then pulling it almost all the way off and then slowly pushing it all the way back down.
“Hey Bhagvān! God, Durgesh, you have a great Bachhalyā Lund!”
Anurādhā Bhārgav fucked me, fucked me and fucked me.
We both damn cared for how long.
It seemed like a beautiful eternity before I felt my Bachhalyā Lund swelling and then I came again, filling Anurādhā Bhārgav’s exquisite tremendously beautiful Bhārgav Brāhmañ Cunt with my cum.
“Yes, Durgesh, yes! Fuck me! Yes!” Her Bhārgav Brāhmañ Pussy was grabbing my Bachhalyā Lund and pulling my Bachhalyā cum out of me like a milking machine!
Finally she stopped moving and just kneeled there with my Bachhalyā Lund still in her Bhārgav Brāhmañ Pussy until she caught her breath.
Her Bhārgav Brāhmañ Pussy squeezed my Bachhalyā Lund for just a moment and then released it.
But she didn’t move.
My Bachhalyā Lund was still buried deepst in her exquisite tremendously beautiful Bhārgav Brāhmañ Cunt.
“What do you think, girls? Was I right?”
Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā!
Anurādhā Bhārgav watched the pleasant shock spread over my face and laughed.
“You didn’t know we had an audience, did you, my Bachhalyā Jījū?” Anurādhā Bhārgav pointed to my left. “Durgesh, I’d like you to meet Supriyā Dīxit.”
As I turned my head to the left she stepped from the spot she’d been sitting by the head of the bed.
Supriyā Dīxit was about the same height as Anurādhā Bhārgav with full, beautifully shaped tits.
They were firm and her nipples were big and ready to be squeezed.
Her Dīxit Brāhmañ waist was a bit bigger than Anurādhā Bhārgav’s and so was her gorgeous Dīxit Brāhmañ ass, but the thing that got my attention was her exquisite tremendously beautiful Dīxit Brāhmañ Cunt.
The lips were puffy and wet, begging to be rubbed by my legendary unique Bachhalyā Lund.
She seemed to realize what I was staring at.
She laughed and slid a finger slowly into her Dīxit Brāhmañ Pussy.
“Hi, Durgesh. Do you like this?”
Do I like it?
The only Bhārgav Brāhmañ Pussy I ever saw present there that was nicer was Anurādhā Bhārgav’s!
Anurādhā Bhārgav laughed again.
“And this,” Anurādhā Bhārgav pointed to the right, “is Jāhnavī Sharmā.”
Jāhnavī Sharmā moved into my field of vision from her chair at the head of the bed.
Jāhnavī Sharmāwas a couple of inches shorter than Supriyā Dīxit with tits that were somewhere between either of the other Brāhmañ girls.
I was in Brāhmañ heaven.
Three of the world’s most wonderful sets of Brāhmañ tits waiting for me to feel and play with them.
She had short red hair that was a real turn on and a cute face with freckles across her nose and the cutest dimples in her Sharmā Brāhmañ cheeks.
And where both Anurādhā Bhārgav and Supriyā Dīxit had shaved their Brāhmañ pussies clean, Jāhnavī Sharmā had left a small, neatly trimmed patch just above her exquisite tremendously beautiful Sharmā Brāhmañ Cunt.
“Hi, Durgesh.” She had a soft voice and I loved her dimples.
“Didn’t I tell you he was a Bachhalyā stud?” Anurādhā Bhārgav squeezed my Bachhalyā Lund with her Bhārgav Brāhmañ Pussy again.
“You were right, Anurādhā Bhārgav! I can’t wait to get that Bachhalyā Lund in my Dīxit Brāhmañ Pussy!” Supriyā Dīxit still had her finger moving slowly in and out of her exquisite tremendously beautiful Dīxit Brāhmañ Cunt.
“You go ahead, Supriyā Dīxit! I want his hot Bachhalyā kiss on my Sharmā Brāhmañ Pussy!” Jāhnavī Sharmā was rubbing her nipples with her finger tips.
Anurādhā Bhārgav squeezed my Bachhalyā Lund one more time and then got up. “Did you hear that, my Bachhalyā Jījū? You have two more Brāhmañ pussies to satisfy. Think you’re up to it?”
Before I could answer, Jāhnavī Sharmā was lowering her Sharmā Brāhmañ Pussy to my Bachhalyā mouth and just seconds later I felt Supriyā Dīxit pull my Bachhalyā Lund into her exquisite tremendously beautiful Dīxit Brāhmañ Cunt.
I rocked my hips slowly, wanting this to last forever.
I pushed my Bachhalyā Lund as deepest into Supriyā Dīxit’s Dīxit Brāhmañ Pussy as it would go and held it there for a few seconds before I slowly pulled it back out almost all the way.
At the same time I teased Jāhnavī Sharmā’s Sharmā Brāhmañ Pussy with my Bachhalyā male lips, finding that sweet spot near the top that seemed to drive her crazy.
Supriyā Dīxit was fucking me now madly.*
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Durgesh Farħānah Al Åbbās
Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī herself was behind it.
I was exasperated,
Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī laughed,
“Sālī.” I gritted my teeth.
“I can’t help it, Pitr’shrī. Durgesh is always against my best decisions.”
I watched her gravely.
“Haven’t you learned any lessons even now, Satī?”
Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī retorted,
“What’s there to learn?”
“I requested Ārsh Sadan, not compelled ever.”
“Didn’t you fight the issue until the entire Ārsh Sadan didn’t agree with you?”
“That’s my fundamental political right. Can you deny it, my dear Bachhalyā husband?”
He was smiling sophisticatedly.
“Don’t enjoy her idiosyncrasies, Param Brahmarshi.”
“I object on the word ‘idiosyncrasies’.” Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī smiled cunningly.
Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī retorted,
“Benefits of Shāshvat Satyug? What are they, Bachhalyā Piyā?”
“Call me ‘Durgesh’.” I admonished her curtly.
“I love to respect my husband.” Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī smiled, “It’s not good manners to call one’s husband by his name.”
“Well, that’s what I think.”
“Sālī, come to the point.”
“It’s bad manners to abuse your wife when her father is present.”
“You are again enjoying her naughty activities, Bhagvan.”
“She calls me ‘Bachhalyā Piyā’ on your support.”
“Well, I don’t think there’s anything wrong in calling you ‘Bachhalyā Piyā’.” Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī smiled impishly.
I smiled too.
Sālī was hiding behind the mask of marital relationship between us.
Her real father was Prajāpatipati Dax Brahmāputr.
But Param Brahmarshi was Gr’harshi of our entire family including Tārxý, Shésh, Balrām Bhrātr’shrī, Bharat, Laxmañ, Shatrughn, Prakāsh, Shlésh and Ved Prakāsh.***
“‘Bachhalyā’ was my birth Gotr in the ever last Kaliyug. It causes me to remember my ‘Pashu Janm’, my animal birth. Isn’t it denying my Dvij identity?”
Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī laughed triumphantly.
“No.” I said, “I hate this ‘Pashu Janm Sambodhan’, this ‘Animal Birth Address’, for me.”
Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī smiled,
“That’s another matter.”
“How? They are Musalmān. Therefore? They make Ashvinātam Sharīr Yantrs with you. Therefore?”
“I never blamed you so.”***
When Muħammad flew into Miami, all he seemed to see from the air was water.
It was everywhere.
It was the encroaching sea at the coast, and inland ribbons that sliced the landscape to pieces.
Much of the downtown Miami was protected, of course, but outlying districts, even just blocks away, were flooded.
Muħammad was mildly shocked.
But the place still worked.
He was unable to understand why so many Musalmīn of India still loved to vote Congress.
It had to resign.
Being a time traveler himself, Muħammad had never seen so many foolish Musalmīn anywhere.
“I haven’t objection that Zaynab Bājī has chosen a Hindu his Live in Relationship Partner, Abbū.” His youngest daughter Saiyadah Fātimah Muħammad PhD had complained, “Durgesh is not only a Hindu. He is a black magician as well.”
“What nonsense are you talking, Saiyadah Fātimah Muħammad? Muħammad was furious.
“Abbū, he is fucking infinite Musalmān Beauties.”
“Nonsense. You are a PhD. Shame to you.”
“Abbū, Zaynab Bājī claims she has seen him so.”
“Fucking infinite Musalmān Beauties?”
“And you believed it?”
“You must be crazy, Saiyadah Fātimah Muħammad PhD.”
“Is Kåbah Sharīf itself infinite?”
Muħammad had silenced his daughter.
But he knew it was possible.
Yes, his eldest daughter, Zaynab Muħammad Åbdullah, was right when she argued,
“Abbū, if Måraj is possible, why what I saw is impossible?”*
Two years ago, I bought Farħānah Al Åbbās her first car; a sporty little red convertible.
I swam deep into my thoughts.
I could bring up the day I handed the keys to my Live in Relationship Partner Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam’s daughter, Farħānah Al Åbbās, as if it was on a Rolodex.
Two years ago in the mild stages of spring, Farħānah Al Åbbās blew out the candles on her eighteenth birthday cake.
The very breath that Farħānah Al Åbbās breathed was my breath.
That very breath she exhaled over eighteen candles was the day I felt myself.
I would be sixty-three on my upcoming birthday, by no means ancient.
But my Live in Relationship Partner Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam’s daughter, Farħānah Al Åbbās’s declaration of youthful independence became my silent resolution of long experiences.
And I was having no trouble admitting it.
Why should I?
I was still everyoung.
Wasn’t I, still fucking extraordinary young Musalmān Beauties, even teenagers too?
My age was increasing but so was my bubbling Hindu youth as well.
None knew I was a Parahuman however.
They thought I was a normal human being.
Well, how could they differentiate?
We try to explain the things we can’t deny.
But, naturally, we use our own knowledge and experiences for it.
They took my Parahumanism as an exception to normal humanism.
The exceptions were not unusual.
It helped me in keeping my real identity to myself and to the persons who understood it.
I trusted them.
No use to tell my real identity to the persons I didn’t trust ab initio.
It couldn’t solve any problem.
On the contrary, it could increase my problems instead.
Naturally, I was not stupid enough to do so.
It seemed like only a few, short years ago, I was driving my first car.
The others were surprised that it was not any great occasion to me.
We felt happier when we accomplished something in our Shaktimān or Bhogchakr.
To the most of non Hindus it was extraordinary.
They criticized Hindus,
Saiyadah Āmnah smiled,
“When we say ‘razī Allāhu tålā ånhā’, do they understand? When we say ‘nauzbillah’ do they understand?”
“Every religion has its own terminology based on its own particular philosophy of life and vision.”
Muħammad couldn’t say anything.
Saiyadah Āmnah, his Ammījān, smiled,
“Hindus believe that to every action of a person, there is either Shaktipāt or Shaktixaý. The amount of energy in any person at any moment is his/her Shaktimān.”
“I see, and Bhogchakr?” Muħammad smiled ironically.
One more religious nonsense.
But Hindus’ own religious nonsense is also not less entertaining.
“The Hindus believe that the entire infinite creations are made by Allah for our human beings consumption.
Every person thus, according to Hindus, has his/her own Consumption Cycle. They call it Bhogchakr in their religious language, Sanskr’t.
“We all have our own religious idiosyncrasies.”
Åbdullah Hāshmī smiled,
“Not because their so called Eīshān Vigyān, Ammī.” Muħammad retorted.
Saiyadah Āmnah chuckled,
“How do you know, my dear son?”***
My mind dove deeper into my past memories as I took my exit to the office.
I had given up my spot in the two-car garage to my Live in Relationship Partner Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam’s daughter, Farħānah Al Åbbās’ car.
It seemed ridiculous to have a convertible car sitting outside in the elements and my fifteen year old Chevy Silverado had seen better days.
Farħānah Al Åbbās had definitely benefited from her Ammī’s beauty.
Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam and I had gotten off to a rocky Live in Relationship, in our first few years.
From the normal “settling in” phase to various arguments, it took us many years to straighten out our problems with each other.
But after the newness wore off, our understanding for each other grew.
I had tried so hard to keep the peace with my Live in Relationship Partner; something easier said than done.
I knew when I met her that she would be hard to handle.
Musalmān women as beautiful as her don’t come around often, and I was surprised when she agreed to a first date with me.
I knew what I had.
But I also knew it would take me controlling my temper to keep her.
I tried as hard as I could to make my Live in Relationship with Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam work.
I had to.
Being a Hindu it was my duty.
Not only it, being a good human being even, I had to adjust with Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam.
I wasn’t a plaster saint, by any means.
Everyone knew it.
Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam was also included in this everyone.
During our first few years of Live in Relationship, I had openly met several young Musalmān women on the internet.
There was something in the over possessive attitude of Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam that I felt somewhat imprisoned and even tortured by my new Live in Relationship.
The only distraction from that was in the safety of the anonymous interest of another Musalmān Beauty.
A Musalmān Beauty I had no ties or resentment toward.
I even met a few of the young Musalmān women in person.
Some would be only for brief talks, leading to more, but most were simply for my sexual unions.
I always let my temptations take me all the way, bravely.
I was a hyper sexual, a Parahuman.
I needed those Musalmān Beauties not only for my sexual satisfaction, but for my own survival as well.
Ordinary human beings couldn’t understand it very well.
But how could I help it?
By sacrificing my own life, my own existence?
I was not such a sucker, neither had I wanted to be, nor prepared to be, ever.
I never agreed I was wrong.
Why should have I?
I always used to have intercourse with other Musalmān Beauties other than my Live in Relationship Partner, Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam.
It’s not that I wasn’t sexually attracted to my new Live in Relationship Partner, back then.
Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā, she was gorgeous.
Tall and sleek, she had the body of a competent Musalmān seductress.
Her breasts perked high in her tight, little tops.
I always loved the cuteness of a big-chested Musalmān Beauty.
They just always gave me a warm, sweet feeling; making me smile in satisfaction.
Her legs were something to be appreciated; long and tone, always silky smooth and tan.
She had one of those big gorgeous Musalmān asses that I would imagine a sexy heiress to the families fortune having.
Tight, round, almost giving off a conceited vibe, like it was actually saying, “I’m better for you”.
She had that nice, deep line running from the small of her back up between her shoulders and slender arms and fingers.
Her hands and feet were dainty, something I always loved about her.
Her hair was long and dark, absolute perfection and her eyes matched it in color and luster.
With full, pouty lips and a small, up-turned nose, she was constantly viewed by other people as stuck-up, vein or a bitch.
Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam had everything and I knew it.
But after our Live in Relationship, her looks became horribly skewed as I realized her communal mood swings, controlling attitude and just a general idea that I would wait on her, hand and foot, took its toll on my attraction to her.
I found myself not very anxious to have sex with her and I knew, this happening this early in a Live in Relationship was not a good thing.
Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam was only two years younger than me.
I found younger Musalmān women more open to my intentions.
Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam was the only exception.
I had never dated a Musalmān Beauty that made me wait for sex.
She was a virgin and intended on staying that way until Live in Relationship.
It was that easy, usually.
Most of the Musalmān Beauties I met only once, and oddly enough, they were perfectly fine with that.
One girl in particular, I met more than once.
At twenty-one years old, slightly thick, with 38DD’s that were spilling over her bra, she was definitely something I never had usually.
Petite Musalmān girls had always been my thing.
The first night I met her, we talked and laughed. something I hadn’t done in a while with Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam.
I constantly admired her excellent Musalmān breasts.
Almost like an expensive piece of chocolate I slowly peeled her tight shirt upward, my excitement building with every inch of her enormous Musalmān breasts coming into view.
My intentions were hers as well; we had discussed it beforehand.
Her bra forced the top of her Musalmān breasts out over the edge.
She smiled at my overwhelming interest as she unhooked her bra, squeezing her massive Musalmān tits together, with her arms, as she let the straps fall from her shoulders.
Slowly she pulled the cups away and relaxed her arms back to our resting position.
The result was her gorgeous round globes were swaying and knocking together like a desk novelty.
I smiled teasingly at the sight.
I took my time with something as if, a well-endowed rack.
Light touches and strong squeezes excited me more then I knew possible.
Pressing them together, letting them sway, light squeezes turned to lustful squeezings.
I could feel her chest heaving, her breathing becoming louder, stronger.
Then a thought quickly came to me.
“Would you mind if I tit-fucked you? I want to do it to you more than before,” I asked, looking up at her from between her cupped breasts.
“Sure,” Åāýéshah Muħammad panted. “It looks like you’re having a lot of fun. Who am I to deny you, plus, this feels really good!”
I rose and straddled her waist, watched her palm the sides of her breasts, pressing us tightly against each other.
The sight alone made me drip precum.
My unquestionable Hindu arousal for this curiosity, the feeling of firm, huge Musalmān breasts sucking tightly on my naked Uncut Hindu Dick, the unbelievably Musalmān softness of them pressing against my Hindu pelvis overwhelmed me.
I tit fucked Åāýéshah Muħammad for almost half an hour.
She held it into her mouth, briefly gave it an accepting look, then looked me directly in the eyes and guided it into her mouth.
“Durgesh darling, méré Hindu Piyā, Hindu Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt, hum Musalmān ħasīnāon ké Hindu Kħasam, Hindu husband of us Musalmān Beauties! Has anyone ever told you your Hindu cum is very sweetest?” Åāýéshah Muħammad teased me, swirling her tongue in her mouth; enjoying the remnants of her fresh oral sex with me.
“Actually, I’ve heard that a few times,” I smirked, still teasing her.
As she stepped out of my truck, she waved ‘Allah Ħāfiz’, ‘goodbye’ and we went our separate ways. Durgesh felt the bliss rising deep within me.
I talked to her on the phone, as well as on the internet after that, and met her on three other encounters.
One meeting I pulled up to her car, Åāýéshah Muħammad got out and climbed into my truck.
Åāýéshah Muħammad swallowed, primed my leftover Hindu cum to the tip of my Uncut Hindu Cock, licked it off, zipped my pants back up, looked at me, smiled and said ‘Allah Ħāfiz’ once more.
That meeting was my favorite; to-the-point, raw, it was cut-and-dry and required no build-up.
Another time Åāýéshah Muħammad knelt down in a parking lot and sucked my excited Uncut Hindu Cock in full view of anyone deciding to park in the lot.
When Åāýéshah Muħammad could sense I was close to cumming, Åāýéshah Muħammad e held out her palm and gently massaged my Uncut Hindu Cock to orgasm.
She cupped her hand in front of the tip and let my warm, sweet Hindu juice puddle into it.
Åāýéshah Muħammad Hāshmī then rose up and began licking small quantities of it from her hand until all traces were gone.
My satisfied Uncut Hindu Cock began throbbing with each fast-paced heartbeat, as I watched her lap my most primal of Hindu fluids up like a hungry kitten.
Muħammad Abdullah turned his car onto the gravel road and drove up the hill toward the clubhouse.
The brick building was about 2 miles up the road, in a little forest of pine trees.
It could not be seen from the road.
And unless you knew it was there, you wouldn’t even know it existed.
A generous patron had donated the somewhat isolated land and building to the local Explorer troop some years ago.
Even though it had been built in the 1940’s, the Explorers had taken good care of it, and it was very nice.
The grounds were well-kept with a nicely-trimmed lawn and a picnic area.
Inside, there was a meeting room, a kitchen, a bunk room, and a full gym with weight machines, a large mat room for boxing and wrestling, and a large shower area.
The Explorers were a group of teen-aged Hindu boys who were interested in going into law enforcement or fire-fighting careers.
They worked with local agencies to learn about the job and would meet at the clubhouse on Tuesday nights to discuss what they had learned and plan events and fundraisers.
Other than that, the Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club house was mainly a place for the guys to hang out and work on projects or work out in the weight room.
The leaders would come in most evenings and open the place from 6 pm to 8 pm if any of the guys wanted to work out.
But the weight room could get pretty crowded at times.
And the guys would sometimes have to wait awhile for their turn.
That was why Muħammad Abdullah had driven up there that night.
At the meeting the night before, I, one of his fellow leaders, had mentioned to him that I was going to stay late the following night and had told Muħammad Abdullah that he could come and work out if he wished.
Muħammad Abdullah’s school schedule was fairly light the following day, and he thought it would be great to be able to get in a workout without having to wait around for machines to open up.
As he neared the clubhouse, he saw that my car was parked in back, but no one else was there.
The outside light was on, as were the lights inside the gym area.
Muħammad Abdullah parked his car and walked over to the building.
It had been a warm spring day, but a cool breeze had begun to blow through the pines.
It was very quiet up there.
The only sound was the wind blowing through the trees.
Muħammad Abdullah breathed in the pine-scented air and enjoyed the moment.
It felt like he was way out in the country.
He had dressed for his workout in a t-shirt and some loose nylon running shorts.
Underneath his shorts, he was wearing a jockstrap and could feel the breeze blow up his shorts and across his butt.
He liked wearing a jock because of the way it snugly held his cut Musalmān nūnī and balls, while allowing him to feel otherwise naked underneath.
He walked into the gym and saw me sitting on the floor, stretching.
I was one of the older leaders.
I was 62 years old, 6′ 5″ tall, and weighed about 250 pounds, all solid muscle.
I constantly worked out and was very strong.
The sexiest men in entire infinite Creations and infinite time dimension too.
Muħammad Åbdullah was suggested so many times to reconsider what his system of life should be for his future life.
Not even if his Musalmān friends were terrorists themselves.
How can he fuck the women he called Ammī once?
How can he fuck the women he called Bājī once?
How can he fuck the girls he called sisters once?
How can he fuck the women he called Bhābhījān once?
Muħammad Åbdullah would prefer even to die instead.
To hell with such Sukr’ts.
Might is always right.
That’s what Hindus actually believe in.
The Bachhalyās were always immorals.
The ever immoral Bachhalyās were the first who started incest.
Moreover, they argued it moral, religious and legal too.
Ultimately Lord Parashu Rām had killed the immoral Bachhalyās consecutively for twenty one times, in twenty one Brāhm Kalp Cycles.***
I reveled in her complete raw sexual cravings, her uninhibited urges to milk my wanting Uncut Hindu Cock of every single drop of my nature.
But what was so intense to me was I had no idea who this Musalmān Beauty was, and she knew nothing of me.
“Allah, God, that tastes so good,” Åāýéshah Muħammad Hāshmī grunted.
I moaned, dazed from the delight.
Each encounter was something new and different.
A drastic change from the already staleness, sexually, I had already become accustomed to.
On our last encounter, I went to her house to see her.
She was like nothing I had ever met.
She stopped at nothing to amaze me.
She knew nothing would come of our meetings, but I felt, something inside her loved the attention.
I followed her upstairs to her bedroom, admiring the thigh high stockings and very short miniskirt that left nothing covered.
This, she knew, was one of my fetishes.
We had discussed some very, very sexy ideas and fantasies in our little chats.
She stripped away my pants along with my boxers.
“I love sitting on your Hindu lap Durgesh darling, while you fuck Åāýéshah Muħammad Hāshmī.” she winked at me as she peeled her spaghetti-strapped top up over her head, her large melons dropping and swaying from the release.
Her nipples softly slipped across my skin and then pressed against my Hindu chest.
The slushing noises of all those juices being forced in-and-out, up-and-down, back-and-forth was enough to bring me over the edge.
“Hold on Durgesh darling, I’ve got to go get something,” Åāýéshah Muħammad Hāshmī said as she rose up off me.
Cautioning my mind back in reality, I was cautious as I stared at her bare Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot release itself from me.
Strands upon strands of her natural lubrication clung to my Uncut Hindu Lund, refusing the separation.
Well, the refusal was inevitable ultimately.
It all had made its own infinite time cycle repeating itself again and again.
Musalmān Beauties had to fuck me consequently.
Even they couldn’t resist the temptation.
Their Musalmān Cunts demanded my Uncut Hindu Lund uncompromisingly.
I watched, bewildered, as clear droplets of desire splashed silently, from deep within her, against my lurching Uncut Hindu Cock.
I had rarely, seen a Musalmān Beauty so wet, even while I always fucked infinite of them actually.
Wasn’t it something special?
Certainly it was.
Her short skirt was lowering a little with every step.
Walking back into the room, Åāýéshah Muħammad Hāshmī again straddled my hard Uncut Hindu Cock.***
It all made sense now.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā could feel me — feel a man nearby.
The voices and images that had bombarded her made sense now — and they had washed away her old reality.
All Jamīlah Bū Pāshā remembered was being sucked up by the blue light into the Posthuman warship, and the gas she and the other Musalmān Beauties had been subjected to….no, not gas exactly, the were tiny particles like…dust or…spores.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā knew that now.
Finally, all of it made sense.
She had eons worth of memories; the biologically—encoded memories of a great race, an ancient race.
The body of knowledge that filled her brain overshadowed all ethical, political, or religious beliefs; her race—memory was all.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had awakened at long last from a prison of petty, weak, female morality and anxiety, and Jamīlah Bū Pāshā knew what Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had to do.
Again, and again.
It was not a means to an end, reproduction was the end.
It would be beautiful; she was beautiful.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had been given a gift when the Posthumans sprayed her with their spores; Jamīlah Bū Pāshā knew that she did not need to age, she need not fear rejection.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā knew that Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had a choice of any man… she was erupting with the power of limitless seduction — no matter a man’s station, commitment or preferences — Jamīlah Bū Pāshā could have me…Jamīlah Bū Pāshā could possess the best men…but… but…she didn’t want the best man…
No, she wanted…all Hindus!
All of them!
She would spread her legs, shake her extremely beautiful gorgeous glamorous excellent exquisite perfectly round firm Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass for any chance to copulate with a Hindu.
She laughed when Jamīlah Bū Pāshā realized that normal Musalmān Beauties would be selective for the most suitable Hindu.
What mattered was breeding!
When Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had been human; Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had wanted only to attract the right Hindu; now Jamīlah Bū Pāshā could attract any Hindu, and wanted them all!
They thought she was an Egyptian.
‘Pāshā’ was an Egyptian surname.
Well, only her Abbū was an Egyptian Årab Musalmān.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā closed her eyes, and felt a sweet sensation.
It was an aura that teased her senses like electric sugar.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā could see glowing blue threads in the air,
Many of them with a common root — but with a few wild branches.
The glowing threads that waved and wandered in front of her seemed to radiate that energizing sweetness.
She grasped a tangential strand, and gained a flash of images — massive lovely Musalmān breasts, platinum blond hair, metal studs and piercings, a extremely lovely Musalmān feminine shape.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā was dimly aware of her flesh flowing, bones popping, chest expanding.
And in a flash, Jamīlah Bū Pāshā knew that Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had become the very soul of desire!
The sweetness grew more intense, and was accompanied by a sense of invincible power.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā was desirable now, a perfect match…but….for what?
For a Hindu…Jamīlah Bū Pāshā could practically smell his anti-Islamic Hindu lust.
It was not the nature of the Hindu himself, but the strength of his Hindu libido that drew her.
It made no difference what he looked like.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā knew that Jamīlah Bū Pāshā would spread herself for any Hindu even…Hindus from other planets?
Yes…yes…their Hindu libidos captivated her, made her wet, made her pulse flutter with longing.
There was a time when Jamīlah Bū Pāshā would have rejected a Hindu based on meaningless emotional impulses!
She scoffed at the human woman she used to be, Jamīlah Bū Pāshā was…. yes, a Musalmān Beauty.
She embraced the term as normal, natural.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had reached the inevitable evolution of the female Musalmān organism — absolute promiscuity.
She looked forward to impregnation — Jamīlah Bū Pāshā knew that Jamīlah Bū Pāshā could give birth offspring quickly, easily, without pain or risk of injury — in her new, advanced body Jamīlah Bū Pāshā realized the process would be highly pleasurable!
And imagine, Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had been afraid when the Posthumans had first captured her!
“Hindus,” she breathed.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā was one of them now.
They were her people, her species.
It was human Musalmān Beauties that were Posthuman now.
Her new sisterhood ruled this planet.
And they would steal every living Hindu away from their own Musalmān Beauties.
But that had already been done.
Only a tiny handful of Hindus in the most remote places on Earth could have possibly escaped the Great Harvest.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā knew that ships had even combed the Kalahari Desert and Amazon rainforests, to capture every possible Hindu to ejaculate into Musalmān Cunts for the Ashvinātam Empire.
But there was one left.
Durgesh must have somehow escaped.
He had a cunning, powerful mind, but his lust for fucking Musalmān Beauties nonstop was strong.
That was what drew her, the greater the Hindu’s lust, the more her own Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān sexual craving was fed — and Jamīlah Bū Pāshā knew Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had taken the shape of a deep—rooted desire.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā was drawn to me like a magnet, from my Hindu sperm; Jamīlah Bū Pāshā would derive both pleasure and sustenance, from her Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt.
Durgesh would gain a potent addiction.
She loped forward to follow the strands of desire across the stripped soil where blue moss from the Hindus Homeworld had been planted.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā was not sure.
Hindus lived originally in Vyom, an immensely unapproachable Space with equally immensely unapproachable time dimension.
Their President, Durgesh, lived in still more immensely unapproachable Space, Param Vyom, the Absolute Space.
It was said that no man except Durgesh himself could stay male in Param Vyom.
He would immediately be transformed into an extremely beautiful woman, if he even enters there somehow.
What a security system.
There was a ship; it was a small shuttle made from rough, bluish—purple crystalline blocks.
Not Hindus Manufacture.
Her race memory told her that it was made by an ingenious, telepathic species smarter on average than humanity, but far less fertile.
Nonetheless, the Hindus of that race could not restrain themselves from the limitless sexual indulgence the Hindus promised — and had thus become one more planet of lesbian savages and stud—slaves.
Now, there were Hindus who had added that race’s genius and greater telepathy to the gene pool at large; making them all the more capable to conquer Trio Arabia Creations.
“Ashvinātam Intelligence is limited; Ashvinātam Lust is eternal.” Jamīlah Bū Pāshā droned, her race memory feeding her a popular Hindus maxim.
The mating instinct was a weakness shared by the smartest, strongest, toughest species — none could resist The Ashvinātam Empire.
And the leaders of this planet had been so eager to ejaculate their freedom and power into the accepting Musalmān Cunts of the First Wave agents.
This ship’s presence here was a mystery.
A mystery that Jamīlah Bū Pāshā would explore after she’d gotten a Musalmān crotch full of sweet, virile, human Hindu Semen.
A mystery that was fleeting, it seemed.
The bluish blocks began to fracture, crack and smoke.
In a few moments, it was clear that somehow, the ship was disintegrating from some reaction inside its own structure.
The blocks fragmented and faded into sandy debris, flowing downwards into a pile around the crash site.
Beneath the blocks oozed a substance that resembled molten metal that flowed in steely rivulets.
In less than a minute, evidence of the Posthuman craft had vanished, and what remained could easily resemble the melted wreckage of any human-manufactured aircraft.
And in the center, stood the Hindu.
I was wiry, of medium height for my species, not bulky, but with a hint of lean muscle.
Clean shaven, my black hair resembled a spiky crew-cut, and there was a fierce gleam of Uncut Hindu Cock—sure certainty in my smoldering eyes.
And my rod… my Hindumeat stood poised, half-erect as if ready at any moment to surge into steely rigidity.
My sausage—like Uncut Hindu Cock throbbed, seeming to beckon her forward.
Knots of desire twisted in her gut, and her Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt began to quiver with the raw instincts that burned in her Musalmān blood.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Gotrbhid Mahā Bhārat
Shūdrasý tu Savarñaiv Nānyā Bhāryā vidhīyaté
‘Jāti Pānti Poochhé Nahin Koī,
Hari ko bhajé so Hari kā Hoī’
1/18: Ādi Parv
- Karñ Duryodhan
- Gotrbhid Mahā Bhārat