The womankind everfirst: 2

The womankind everfirst


Previous Chapters

Chapter 2

It was in the evening when the telegram from the Swedish Embassy in Ved Nagar clattered through the electric machine of the telegraph office.

The girl on the machine at the time pulled the message out with a yell.

“Look it who won the Nobel Prize!” she shouted.

The other girls came out of their chairs running, and the jubilation, the joyousness attracted the three delivery humanoid robots also.

Ved Nagar didn’t have any human servants at all.

It was a thoroughly roboticized City State with special privileges as was Jammu and Kashmir.

A Municipal Government was running it under Indian Constitution.

Eventually, the exclamations and the buzz of excitement brought Muħammad Ħanīf, the manager, out of his cozy cubicle.

He was reading the Constitution of Ved Nagar and drinking a juice, beside the heater.

Muħammad Ħanīf appeared buttoning his trouser up.

“What’s up?” he called out, “What’s up? What’s going on here?”

One of the girls passed the strip of tape to Muħammad Ħanīf.

He read it.

Muħammad Ħanīf grinned broadly.

“Allah! Alħamdulillāhi rabbil åālmīn. It’s a big day for all of us.”

“Let me deliver it.” One of the girls offered cheerfully.

“What do you think of me, Nūr Jahān Ħāmid Jamīl?” Muħammad Ħanīf smiled at her, “Am I a damn fool? This is solemn occasion. Isn’t it? This is something Mr. Muħammad Ħanīf would do personally.”

“Bet you just want to have yourself another look at your fiancée, Al Zubaydah Al Nādir.”

Muħammad Ħanīf was startled somewhat.

He never anticipated Nūr Jahān Ħāmid Jamīl could dare such a tease to him.

Nūr Jahān Ħāmid Jamīl was interested in Durgesh, yet she couldn’t get anywhere near Mr. Mayor.

It wasn’t that Nūr Jahān Ħāmid Jamīl wasn’t beautiful.

If it would have been so, Nūr Jahān Ħāmid Jamīl would never herself had dreamed of Durgesh.

The fact that Nūr Jahān Ħāmid Jamīl was extremely beautiful had made her dare to dream of Mr. Mayor.

“Take care, sister,” Muħammad Ħanīf said sympathetically, “This message here is too important. You get it ready now.”

He read the message once more.




The message was addressed to doctor Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās Seven hundred eighty six Durgesh Al Zāhidah Al Imrān Avenue Ved Nagar.


For Begum Al Zāhidah Al Imrān it was always a pleasure to lie on the hard table in the darkened room beside the elaborate electrocardiograph equipment.

Only few people could understand it.

An efficient, antiseptic nurse dabbed the paste on her chest, arms and legs, and then applied the electrodes with their five lead wires-one to her chest, two to her arms and two to her legs.

This experience was soothing, relaxing, and always conducive, always helpful to clear thinking.

She engaged twice a year in this experience at the behest of the Ved Nagar Government.*

This evening, however, as Al Zāhidah Al Imrān stretched on the table, chest, arms, legs bared, half watching the beautiful nurse attach the cool electrodes to her beautiful skin.

Her pleasure was shadowed faintly by apprehension.

She reasoned that the apprehension had entered into the EKG test because today the test was especially important.

In the three years past, since she had accepted the Government’s offer to join the high-level staff of the Society for Basic Research outside Ved Nagar, she had attended these checkups, one in January and one in July, as a matter of routine.

Seven years, she remained in the live in relationship with Durgesh.

The tests were never against her.

Begum Al Zāhidah Al Imrān could never believe she was perfectly all right, only because she was in live in relationship with the Hindu she utmost detested.

She could not bear his ever obsessed by almost entire beautiful Musalmān houseladies, Hindu Penis, could cure her by only penetrating her female genital organ.

She changed her medical experts.

Yet, the report never changed.

It was always the same.

Was Durgesh really Ħazrat Mahdi ålayhissalām?

But then why has he established Ved Nagar, instead of Dārussalām?

She was medically fit when she lived in relationship with Durgesh.

She wasn’t medically fit those seven years ago.

She isn’t medically fit again after she returned to her ever loving husband, Maulānā Al Rashīd Al Wahāb.

“You shouldn’t have come to me again, Zāhidah.”  Her ever-loving husband, Maulānā Al Rashīd Al Wahāb, had said.

“Why don’t you understand, Rashīd, I love you.” Begum Al Zāhidah Al Imrān said with tearful eyes, “You sent me to him I detest very much. Aren’t seven years enough to find out he isn’t a Muslim and he would never be.”

“That’s not our problem exactly, Al Zāhidah Al Imrān.” her ever loving husband, Maulānā Al Rashīd Al Wahāb, tried gravely to explain to her, “Our exact problem is that I want you to live, to be alive, if not for yourself, for me, for our daughters, and now for our sons too.”

“They aren’t our sons, my ever loving husband, Maulānā Al Rashīd Al Wahāb. Durgesh has fathered them.”

“Nevertheless, you are their Ammī, their real mother. Aren’t you?”

Begum Al Zāhidah Al Imrān cried.

“Why did you sent me to Durgesh, Rashīd? Why the hell did you sent me to him?”

“Because I had done everything in my power to keep you alive except Durgesh’s ever infallible Sex Therapy. I hadn’t another option.”

“But even seven years couldn’t cure me.”

“You were cured entirely.”

“Then why it’s again there as soon as I returned to you?”

“Because you need Durgesh’s ever infallible Sex Therapy constantly nonstop.” her ever loving husband, Maulānā Al Rashīd Al Wahāb, said gravely, “Al Zāhidah Al Imrān, you have to go back to Durgesh.”

Begum Al Zāhidah Al Imrān was startled.*

Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās would remember the evening as a crucial moment of self-revelation in her mature years.

Twenty-eight was a mature year.

Wasn’t it?

Al Zubaydah Al Nādir was mature even at her eighteen, Just eighteen Just Adult.

If not, why she was having sexual relationship with Durgesh when she was Just eighteen Just Adult.

Some persons really run far ahead of their actual age.

Al Zubaydah Al Nādir, Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās’s cousin was one of them.

She wasn’t even a bit ashamed of herself that Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās caught her red handed.

“Red handed?” Al Zubaydah Al Nādir smiled at Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās patronizingly, “What the hell do you mean,  Saåīdah?  I wasn’t committing a theft. Was I? I am already eighteen. I am an adult legally and I have chosen my life partner. What’s wrong in that?”

Durgesh is my Ammī’s live in relationship partner.”

“So what? Durgesh has infinite beautiful Musalmān houseladies as his live in relationship partners. If you can choose him your own life partner, why the hell can’t I?”

Durgesh is sixty six already. He is forty eight years older than you.”

“I haven’t any objection even a bit.” Al Zubaydah Al Nādir winked at Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās, “Although I never believe he is more than twenty eight. Some of my girl friends say he himself looks never more than eighteen himself. Just eighteen Just Adult himself.”

“You and your ever Durgesh obsessed ever crazy girlfriends!” Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās sighed helplessly.

Al Zubaydah Al Nādir again winked at her,

Durgesh is incredible, isn’t he?”

Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās watched her wristwatch.

It was 6:18.

She remembered reading somewhere that most of the dummy clocks used for advertising by American jewelers were set or painted in, at about 8:18 in the incorrect belief that this was the moment that Abraham Lincoln had died.

Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās never liked it.

Abraham Lincoln’s death should not be remembered.

His great life must be remembered instead.

Durgesh never believed that the death was an integral part of life.

He believed in immortality always.

That’s why Durgesh was so ever young that none could tell he was sixty-six.

The  everDurgeshobsessed young Musalmān lady brigade of Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan herself claimed Durgesh was thirty six only.

Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan herself was thirty four now, the duly elected President of Modern Democratic Årabia.

Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās was glad that she has won the same Nobel Prize now, her ideal, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, had won four years ago.

Durgesh had won it even before for establishing religion as an everlasting endless movement of humanity whether it was Hinduism, Islam, Christianity, Judaism, Persianism or any other religion whatsoever.

In this historical ship, there were many Nobel Prize winners.

Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās and Al Zubaydah Al Nādir were waiting for me.

The magnificent green vessel of HVSI had, an hour ago, left behind the coast of Ved Nagar and was now cutting through the choppy, the uneven sea toward the Swedish port of Göetborg.*

Al Zubaydah Al Nādir smiled.

“Do you know what does HVSI stands for?”

“Sure,” Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās watched her cousin gravely,

Humane Values Secured Infinitely.”

“Muħammad Ħanīf claims it isn’t true.”

“Your fiancé? That’s manager at Swedish Embassy, Ved Nagar?”

“That’s right.” Al Zubaydah Al Nādir chuckled, “He says HVSI actually stands for ‘Hindu Vishv Sansthān Interuniversal’.”

“It stands for both: ‘Hindu Vishv Sansthān Interuniversal: Humane Values Secured Infinitely’. It’s the actual full name of the social organization.” Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās said proudly.

“Social or Political?” Al Zubaydah Al Nādir asked evocatively.

“Can you tell me of another organization, only single one, that protects humane values as sincerely and as profoundly as HVSI?” Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās said, “HVSI is matchless in everything humane profoundly.”

“I agree with you.” Al Zubaydah Al Nādir said honestly.

They heard footsteps directly behind them.

Both of them twisted quickly.

Their beautiful faces were smiling to greet me.

But their visitor was Begum Al Zāhidah Al Imrān instead of me.

Their reactions didn’t hide their disappointment.

Begum Al Zāhidah Al Imrān smiled regretfully.

“Sorry. You both the girls were expecting Durgesh perhaps.”

“Sure,” Al Zubaydah Al Nādir cooed, “However, it’s better you, Kħālājān, than none anyone.”

Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās didn’t even looked at her Ammī.

“You are still angry with me, Saåīdah?” Begum Al Zāhidah Al Imrān asked her pleading almost.

“It’s better we shouldn’t talk on it.” Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās said tersely, “I never imagined my mother is as selfish and as lacking gratefulness as you are. You are never grateful what Durgesh did for you for seven long years.”

Begum Al Zāhidah Al Imrān sighed.

“You can’t understand, Biŧŧo. You haven’t married someone who is as great as your Abbū, Maulānā Al Rashīd Al Wahāb.”

“I agree with you. Most of the Pseudo Musalmīn let their wives die instead of surrendering them for Sex Therapy. I’m really proud of my Abbū, Maulānā Al Rashīd Al Wahāb, that he is one of the great true Musalmīn. Ħuzūr sallallāhu ålayhi wa sallam brought Islam to protect the lives of the Årab womankind who were being buried alive when they were only a child. Durgesh says Doctor Ali Sina and his co-authors never talk of this greatest achievement of Ħuzūr sallallāhu ålayhi wa sallam and the true Musalmīn of that time. Yes, the true Islam couldn’t survive as long as it should have due to the ever selfish imperial activities and ambitions of Yazīd malåūn lånat ålayhi, nevertheless it doesn’t mean Ħuzūr sallallāhu ålayhi wa sallam absolutely failed in his sallallāhu ålayhi wa sallam greatest mission of establishing humanity in then Arab and the other countries.”

Begum Al Zāhidah Al Imrān settled in the wicker chair across from both of them.

“You really believe Durgesh is Ħazrat Mahdi ålayhissalām?”

Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās watched her Ammī ironically.

“If Durgesh isn’t really Ħazrat Mahdi ålayhissalām how are you being cured only by living in relationship with him?”

“I don’t believe it’s only because I live in relationship with him. He is the ever utmost successful Sex Therapist. He is doing some kind of Sex Therapy only known to him and to none else ever.” Al Zāhidah Al Imrān said, “I have lived in relationship with Durgesh for seven long years despite the fact that I hate him immensely for his ever shrewdest sexual relationships with the infinite Panjvaqtah Namāzī extremely beautiful ardent Musalmān houseladies. Durgesh is a never curable utmost communal Hindu that have utmost pride in having sex with extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān houseladies.”

“You still hate him?”

“Yes.” Begum Al Zāhidah Al Imrān said bluntly without even a single moment’s hesitation.

“Yet you love him immensely when he penetrates you.” Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās smiled ironically.

“That’s the problem. I am unable to control my physical needs, my physical body. It loves the Hindu beast exclusively. It doesn’t love your Abbū, Maulānā Al Rashīd Al Wahāb, your father. It hates him for he never made me love as wildly as Durgesh does always.”

None of both was startled.

It wasn’t an unknown fact to anyone of her now.

“My brain loves Maulānā Al Rashīd Al Wahāb and hates Durgesh immensely,” Begum Al Zāhidah Al Imrān sighed helplessly, “While my body ravenously craves for Durgesh and hates Maulānā Al Rashīd Al Wahāb to the extent that I want to cuckold Maulānā Al Rashīd Al Wahāb to Durgesh and myself. While alone, I enjoy proudly that Maulānā Al Rashīd Al Wahāb has himself surrendered me to Durgesh that he should have sex with me, Sex Therapy my foot, and cure me. But when I return to my senses, I hate myself for it. I pray in my Salawāt, ‘Allah, punish me tremendously for what I’m doing with my ever loving ever moral husband.”

“Kħālājān,” Al Zubaydah Al Nādir said sympathetically, “Medically, you are suffering from split personality.”

“I know, what do you think I’m a damn fool?” Begum Al Zāhidah Al Imrān laughed ironically lightly, “I’m myself a PhD, girlies. Yes, I never got Nobel Prize for any services of humanity I rendered; nevertheless, I myself am never inhuman. Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās hates me today for something I don’t have any control over. She is a Nobel Prize winner now for her humanitarian ideals, yet she refuses deliberately to understand my disorder. Humanitarian ideals! Haha!”

Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās had herself asked the same question.

Durgesh understands it perfectly.

Her Abbū, Maulānā Al Rashīd Al Wahāb, understands it perfectly.

Her Ammī, Begum Al Zāhidah Al Imrān, understands her perfectly.

Even her Just eighteen Just Adult Kħālāzād cousin, Al Zubaydah Al Nādir, understands it perfectly.

Why doesn’t Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās herself?

Why doesn’t Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās have any sympathy with her own Ammī?

Why Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās is so irrational?

“You are a PhD now, Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās.” Durgesh himself had tried so many times to explain to her, “You must program your brain now more rationally.”

“You want me to offer Stavans instead of my Salawāt?” Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās was suddenly furious, “I never imagined my Ammī was so correct. You want to convert me into Hinduism?”*

I smiled patronizingly.

“Certainly not, my sweetie, never. I never want anyone to convert into anything s/he doesn’t want to be ever. Hinduism and Islam aren’t two separate religions at all. You just be a good Muslim, instead of being or remaining one of the Pseudo Musalmīn. Even Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā never wanted it. Otherwise, there were never any revelation of Allopanishad.”

Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās calmed herself.

Hell, Allah! She should have never reacted such childishly.

What a Pseudo Musalmīn childish reaction.

Most of the non-Muslims have the same complaint.

Most of the Musalmīn never react rationally.

They never try to understand what actually the non Muslim opposite him/her wants to say.

They just suspect him/her that he/she is trying to divert him/her from Islam and act irrationally furiously.

Allopanishad is an Upnishad of Atharvved.”

“They say it’s written by some Musalmīn in the regime of Shahanshāh Jalāluddīn Muħammad Akbar to convert Hindus into Islam. It is the basic holy book of Dīn-e-Ilāhī, a religion established by Shahanshāh Jalāluddīn Muħammad Akbar.”

Chapter 3


. More Creative Adult Sex in English from Durgesh

2.Durgesh in Hindi/Urdu

3. Science Fiction

4. On History

5. Commentary on Ved

6. On Hinduism

7. On Islam

The Yacht: 2

Midterm 2012 Volume 4

Kħātūn-e-Jannat Volume 3

Ved Nagar Volume 2

The Yacht


Previous Chapters

Chapter 2

Durgesh Al Hilāl Al Tayyab

I smiled at Al Hilāl Al Tayyab gravely.
“It’s not as simple as that, my twenty eight years old young Musalmān beloved. I am sixty four―”
She smiled sarcastically.
“You are fucking me, Durgesh. Can’t you be true even to your girlfriend for ten long years? No bloody sixty four can fuck me as wildly as you are. The most I can believe you to be, is thirty four, and it’s ultimate.”
I ignored the infinite times argued argument.
It was of no use ever.
“The point I was making, was that a condition by which a party is prevented from marrying is considered against public policy and void. Nevertheless that’s subject to certain qualifications. Particularly in the case of the trusts of the type that are known as the Spendthrift Trusts. The trust that was created under your Abbū’s will is exactly of one of the exact nature.
“Moreover, you may yourself note that there isn’t exactly any restrictions upon marriage itself. As a matter of fact, your Buā, Al Jalāl Al Tayyab, has been given a wide discretion in the matter. Your Abbū had immense faith on his youngest sister, Al Jalāl Al Tayyab.”
Nādirshāh Durrānī.” Al Hilāl Al Tayyab chuckled coldly.
“She has a wrong name. Al Jalāl Al Tayyab Buā must have been named Nādirshāh Durrānī.”
“Nonsense, Al Hilāl Al Tayyab,” I protested, “Al Jalāl Al Tayyab loves you even more than herself. You are the only heir to her too, and the only thing Al Jalāl Al Tayyab wants from you is, behave yourself, act your age, be responsible.”
“I am not interested in her money.” Al Hilāl Al Tayyab said furiously, “My Abbū has himself left enough for me.”
“You are getting Al Jalāl Al Tayyab wrong.”
“Stop protecting her. She doesn’t need anyone’s protection anymore. You have already trained her to protect herself from everyone.”
I smiled.
She was really impossible.
Her Abbū, Al Tayyab Al Muħammad, was right.
Her Buā, Al Jalāl Al Tayyab was equally right too.
Al Hilāl Al Tayyab needed constant protection from me.
Only I could control her optimum.
My ultimate intimacy with her, for ten long years even, had increased her arrogance instead of making her how to behave sophisticated.
The essential problem was, Al Hilāl Al Tayyab refused to learn anything new she did not know already.
“There are so many persons that say that some lawyers tell people what they can do and what they can’t, but you are always different from those damn fools. You invariably fix things ever so a person can do what s/he wants to do.”
I smiled.
My Uncut Hindu Prick was moving between her extremely beautiful ardent Musalmān labial lips more vigorously.
Her twenty eight years old young Musalmān Cunt was swallowing my sixty four years old Uncut Hindu Prick voraciously.
It was my constant experience that comparatively to my other women, my Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān women were more ravenous to fuck me.
It did not, of course, necessarily mean that the Musalmān womankind was more ravenous than the rest of the entire womankind.
In my original Param Purush body that was synchronized now within my own Antim Ācharañ Nāyak body, of course, I was fucking the entire womankind nonstop in Param Vyom, the Absolute Space.
Yet, it was true that ravenous women were there in every society, not only in Ummat-e-Muslimah.
There were numerous reasons for a woman to be ravenous sexually.
Most of the human societies almost always fought with Hindu Society that Hindus were the most sex oriented men.
Ved/Hinduism expressly, specifically, especially, preaches its men to be utmost sex oriented.
If some of the human societies didn’t fight with Hindu Society ever on this point, they almost ever hated Hindus for it, if not expressly, clandestinely at least.
Yet, even such ever biased anti Hindu societies too can’t deny ever, truthfully, that it was only the Hindu Society that successfully faced always every movement that was against humanity and humankind.
The entire history of entire humankind stands to its evidence whether someone acknowledges it or not.
When Pseudo Isālm was massacring the entire non Musalmīn it was Ved/Hinduism that stopped its ever imperialist ever utmost harmful-to-humankind aggression in India.
Islam had already surrendered to Pseudo Isālm at Karbala to Yazīd malåūn and his Pseudo Musalmīn bandits.
The ever vain boasting Persians surrendered to it, by surrendering their entire homeland herself, to Pseudo Musalmīn of Yazīd malåūn and his Pseudo Musalmīn bandits.
It was India only that’s still practicing True Islam anywhere.
Even Turkey is second to India in this matter.
It was one of the ever greatest in Musalmīn, Mughal-e-Åāzam, Shahanshāh, Samrāŧ Jalāluddīn Muħammad Akbar, that revived True Islam in India, calling it Dīn-e-Ilāhī, separating it from Pseudo Isālm expressly.
And then it started fighting with Pseudo Isālm.*

I smiled.
It was a smile of wisdom garnered from bitter experiences of my past sixty four years, of knowledge amassed, accumulated, from the confidences of thousands of women and men.
If Al Hilāl Al Tayyab could only have even infinitesimal confidence in her aunt, her Buā, Al Jalāl Al Tayyab, of what her own Abbū had on his youngest shrewdest sister, she could easily understand Al Jalāl Al Tayyab loved her not anything less than her brother.
But there was her ever closest friend, Al Shams Al Jisārat.
She thought her aunt Al Jalāl Al Tayyab was after her money.
“That’s somewhat true,” I said, “but not entirely. One can almost always get a way out of any situation. If there’s a will, there’s a way.”
“Well,” Al Hilāl Al Tayyab told me somewhat bitterly, “there’s a will in this case, my dear ever utmost experienced Hindu husband of sixty four years prudence. I want the way.”
Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb was never in the good book of Al Jalāl Al Tayyab.
“Al Jalāl Al Tayyab never liked Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb.” I said.
“Are you telling me?” Al Hilāl Al Tayyab asked me inordinately.
“Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb knows of this provision in the will?”
Al Hilāl Al Tayyab watched me with intense scrutinizing eyes.
“I think now Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb knows perhaps. He didn’t until now. Nevertheless, it’s immaterial. It’s neither here nor there. Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb is himself a millionaire. He does not need my money.”
“I see. I think actually you don’t want to marry Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb. You actually want to cuckold him to please my Practical Chief Wife, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan. Isn’t it?”*

Al Hilāl Al Tayyab smiled cunningly.
“What if I really want to do it?”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is anti-Muslim now, Al Hilāl Al Tayyab.”
“You are quite mistaken, my dear ever utmost experienced Hindu husband of sixty four years prudence. Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is herself Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånahā reincarnated. And she has proven it as many times as she razī Allāhu tålā ånahā has been challenged to prove it.”
“In front of ever immense superstitious Pseudo Musalmīn only.” I said bitterly, “I never interrupted her in her practical political strategies whenever they produced creative results.”
“And you think Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, your De facto Chief Wife now, isn’t actually Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånahā, reincarnated?” Al Hilāl Al Tayyab asked me ironically, “Only because you are not a Muslim, you are a Hindu instead. You haven’t any faith in Islam whatsoever.”
I kept fucking Al Hilāl Al Tayyab vehemently, patiently.
“Don’t try to make it a religious communal issue, Al Hilāl Al Tayyab.”
“You have no right to call our religious faith communal, Durgesh.” Al Hilāl Al Tayyab said furiously bitterly, “It’s not your faith. It’s not your religion. It’s up to us Musalmīn to define what our religion is and what’s not.”
Al Hilāl Al Tayyab was adamant not to argue rationally without any bias and prejudices.
It was Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s immensely thoroughly thought out deliberate strategy.
She worked on ever superstitious Pseudo Musalmīn and immensely biased, immensely selfish, extremely beautiful, Musalmān houseladies that were interested either in abnormal wild sex with me or in my ever infinite money.
Al Hilāl Al Tayyab wanted to cuckold Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb.
She wasn’t interested in truth at all.
Let the truth be whatsoever damn it.
She wanted to cuckold Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb because Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan wanted it.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan had promised to let her inheritance released to Al Hilāl Al Tayyab from Al Jalāl Al Tayyab.
Moreover, Al Hilāl Al Tayyab would have an immensely capable friend, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, to take care of her, besides me too.
Al Hilāl Al Tayyab looked at me,
“Don’t make any mistake about it,” her voice was vibrant with emotion, “I’m going to marry Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb. It’s final. You have got to find some way so that I can do it. I leave that end of it up to you.”
I kept fucking Al Hilāl Al Tayyab scrutinizing her carefully.
“Well, you are adamant to cuckold Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb, I think.”
“I am,” she said firmly.
“Okay. Let me look up the concerned court records before planning the optimum strategy. Let’s talk about it further, tomorrow morning.”
Al Hilāl Al Tayyab pulled her glorious Panjvaqtah Namāzī nude Musalmān bottom until my Uncut Hindu Prick was out of her Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt only its head remaining inside. Then she thrust it back into my nude male Hindu lap with her entire feminine lust.
It vanished into her Musalmān Cunt absolutely.
“Tomorrow morning is too late.” She shook her head, “The most I can afford is, this afternoon.”
I sighed disguising my exasperation.
“Okay. Give me time to look up the concerned court records in the meantime. Let’s talk further about it at four o’clock.”
“Okay.” She smiled at me ultimately.*

I fucked Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī engrossed in thoughtful appraisal.
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī understood my mood absolutely now.
She knew I never wanted to be disturbed when I was thinking.
Ultimately, I jabbed a button on the side of my desk.
A young woman of twenty eight popped her beautiful head through the doorway leading from a law library, watched me fucking Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī gravely, smiled impishly, and entered the room.
“Al Vaqār,” I said, “go up to the court house and find the papers in the Al Tayyab Estate. An Al Hilāl Al Tayyab was given property amounting to more than a hundred million dollars in trust. The name of the trustee is Al Jalāl Al Tayyab. Check the decree of distribution, and also the will. Make copies of the trust provisions, then get back here as soon as you can.”
The gorgeous young Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Beauty blinked her eyes swiftly, twice.
“Al Tayyab?” she asked.
“Yes,” I smiled at her, “Al Tayyab Al Muħammad.”
“And Al Jalāl Al Tayyab?”
“And Al Jalāl Al Tayyab.” I confirmed.
“Okay.” Al Vaqār Al Åbbās smiled at me seductively, turned, crossed the stateroom with confident steps, proudly aware of my ever appreciative Hindu male gaze on her young plump luscious Musalmān buttocks, and plunged into the outer office at my yacht.
I smiled at Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī.
She smiled at me too.
“Want something?”
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī was all alert now.
She knew very well now when to keep quiet and when to speak.
Her manner radiated assurance and efficiency.
“Let’s check our impressions about Al Hilāl Al Tayyab today.” I said.
“She looked me trapped or sulky today.”
“Be specific. What was she? Trapped or sulky?”
“Does it make a lot of difference?” Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī smiled impishly somewhat, squeezing her vaginal muscles around my entire Uncut Hindu Prick.
“Sure,” I said, “you had a chance to see her when Al Hilāl Al Tayyab wasn’t posing. You are a woman too. She doesn’t need to impress you. Almost every woman that’s beautiful, poses at least somewhat in masculine presence either knowingly or unknowingly.”
“I think you can’t blame us womankind for it.” Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī smiled.
“I never do.”
“Did she tell you the truth?”
“None of them tell us the truth the first time usually,” I said, “the womankind don’t especially more than the mankind. That’s why I decided to take your opinion too. Did she look trapped, or did she look sulky?”
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī spoke thoughtfully, weighing her words carefully.
“I never saw her so trapped and sulky before. She was both today. I think she got caught in some kind of trap and had turned sulky.”
I smiled and pushed my Uncut Hindu Prick into her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt entirely with immense sexual lust for her.
“Are you sure Al Hilāl Al Tayyab wasn’t in panic?”
“What do you mean?” Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī was suddenly all alert.
It was something new for her that a girl that appeared sulky ostensibly, might be actually in panic instead.
She had to learn from Durgesh infinitely even now.
Durgesh is perhaps the ever best psychologist now.
It’s immensely necessary to learn the human psychology as much as one can for not one’s progress only, but his/her survival too.
Durgesh is ever successful immensely in almost every field he is interested ever, because he never stops learning about human psychology.
“Nothing,” I smiled once more, “lots of people try to put a poker face when they are in a panic. It’s human nature. We never like to exhibit our weaknesses on others if we can manage it. Panic is a weakness. If the others know we are in a panic, even somewhat, they may take advantage of us at that time, our guards being down.”
“Wallāh, you are right. I never thought about it, Durgesh darling.” Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī kissed me on my lips cheerfully and squeezed her vaginal muscles appreciatively around my Uncut Hindu Penis.
“It’s elementary, my dear Watson.” I winked at her.
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī laughed appreciating me.
“When a person in panic tries to put on a poker face, nine times out of ten s/he looks sulky.”
“That’s right. Al Hilāl Al Tayyab is a self-willed little devil who usually always gets her own way due to her parents’ unbalanced parental love for her. Al Tayyab Al Muħammad was a business tycoon. He thought money was everything. His parents taught him this wrong lesson. Money is very important but not everything even then.”
“Al Tayyab Al Muħammad never paid proper attention to his offspring. He thought he is giving immense money to his daughters and that’s all his duty was to them.”
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī was listening to me with absolute attention.
“It made him careless to his daughter that she was developing an ungovernable temper. He realized it, but too late to improve it. I think Al Hilāl Al Tayyab is caught in some sort of a trap. She is trying to get out of it.”
“A hell-cat?” Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī smiled.
“A hell-cat.”*

Suddenly my receptionist there, Al Jamīlah Al Wahāb, pushed open the door.
“Yes, Al Jamīlah,” I addressed her.
“There’s a man in the outer office.”
“Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb.”
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī looked at me.
“I see,” I murmured.
“He wants information about Miss Al Hilāl Al Tayyab.”
“Al Hilāl Al Tayyab?”
“Who has just been here.”
“You told him she has just been here?”
“Certainly not.”
“What does he say?”
“He says that he wants to see you.” Al Jamīlah Al Wahāb smiled, “I asked him about his nature of business with you. He said it’s about a client of yours. I informed him that he would have to give me the name of the client. And tell me something of the nature of the business. He said that it was about Miss Al Hilāl Al Tayyab and he is very anxious to see you about her.”
“I see. What did you tell him?”
“I told him that I wasn’t familiar with the names of your clients, he would have to be more specific concerning his business. He is frightfully excited.”
“About what, the girl or his business?”
“I don’t know that. All I know is that he is excited and nervous.”
I reached a decision.
There was nothing wrong in meeting with the man they were trying to cuckold.
Why not warn him?
Let me see his response to the information.
Moreover, he could tell me something Al Hilāl Al Tayyab was hiding from me.
“Okay,” I said, “send him in,”
Al Jamīlah Al Wahāb nodded and turned, holding the door open.
“You may come in,” she said.
There was a rustle of motion.
A man came into the room.
He radiated restlessness.
He was a man radiating femininity, instead of masculinity.
He needed Stavans to change his mental blue print.
But it was not easy for him.
The communals had attached Stavans, meditation, with Hinduism.
Instead of advising meditation, Stavans, to him, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and Al Hilāl Al Tayyab were planning to cuckold him.
Eīshān Eīshān Shammā shamīshān!
Yet, I knew it was useless to argue with Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and Al Hilāl Al Tayyab on it.
They were irrationally adamant.
Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb walked with nervous jerky steps.
He was either in late twenties or earlier thirties.
“Good day, counselor.” He smiled with vibrant manners despite his appearance.
“Good day. Please, sit down.” I offered him a chair.
Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb hesitated, then sat down on the edge of one of the straight backed chairs.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb?” I asked him cordially.
“I want to find out whether Al Hilāl Al Tayyab called on you today.”
My face was patiently appraising.
“I’m sorry to tell you that I can’t divulge to you anything that my clients tell me in confidence. You should understand it’s a law office. Even a competent court can’t ask me who came to me to consult me legally and who didn’t. It’s not an information bureau, Mr. Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb.”
I said it politely, not harshly.
Why kill a person who is already being killed?
If I can’t save him from Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and Al Hilāl Al Tayyab, at least I could be polite to him.
Couldn’t I?
Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb jumped nervously to his feet, made some swift strides to the window, stood against the light for a moment, then whirled to stare at me.
His eyes were dark and smoldering.
He seemed to be fighting some overpowering emotion.

Chapter 3

1. More Creative Adult Sex in English from Durgesh

2.Durgesh in Hindi/Urdu

3. Science Fiction

4. On History

5. Commentary on Ved

6. On Hinduism

7. On Islam