Durgesh Sidrah: One More Mastermind
Nādirā Kaif had to sign the register in the office-building elevator.
It was Saturday morning.
Katrina Kaif, was born in Hong Kong on July 16, 1984 to an Indian Kashmiri father and a whiteBritish mother.
One of eight children, all daughters, she was raised in Hawaii.
At age fourteen, she was approached by an agent and began modeling; her first job was a jewelry campaign. She continued modeling in London.
No one knew here that she was one of the seven sisters of Katrina Kaif.
She looked around.
All other offices were closed.
It necessitated a lot of last minute statements and reports.
Nādirā Kaif had been unable to get them together by quitting time Friday night.
So, she had promised Deepak Khandelwal that she would come in Saturday morning, finish computer feeding of the reports and have everything on a DVD, so that it can be transferred to his laptop the first thing Monday morning.
The situation was further complicated by the fact that the Diamond Mining, Smelting & Investment Company, Nādirā Kaif was working for, was not actually singularly owned by Kħadeejah Muħammad only.
It was a part of HVS GROUP OF COMPANIES.
Kħadeejah Muħammad was its Managing Director only, not the Owner.
HVS GROUP OF COMPANIES was owned by Hindu Vishv Sansthān.
And, the Life Time Chairman of Hindu Vishv Sansthān was Durgesh himself.
By ten thirty, when Nādirā Kaif was well immersed in her work, she heard the patter of running feet, then the sound of knuckles on the door and a childish treble saying,
“Nādirā auntie― Nādirā auntie!”
For a moment, Nādirā Kaif’s face softened.
Then she frowned with annoyance.
“Kush Khandelwal, Deepak Khandelwal’s seven year old son from his extra ordinary beautiful Libyan Muslim wife, Al Ħabībah Al Ħusain, worshipped the ground, Nādirā Kaif walked on.
It was Deepak Khandelwal’s plan to take her onto his bed, she knew.
Socialist People’s Libyan Arab Great Jamahiriya
الجماهيرية العربية الليبية الشعبية الاشتراكية العظمى
Al-Jamāhīriyyah al-ʿArabiyyah al-Lībiyyah aš-Šaʿbiyyah al-Ištirākiyyah al-ʿUẓmā
Al Ħabībah Al Ħusain had her approach to the Secretary General of the General People’s Congress, Miftah Muħammad Ke’ba.
Deepak Khandelwal was afraid of his wife, Al Ħabībah Al Ħusain, already therefore.
Nādirā Kaif, in turn, was strangely drawn to the youngster, Kush Khandelwal.
So, Al Ħabībah Al Ħusain, Deepak Khandelwal’s extra ordinary beautiful Libyan Muslim wife, was always kind to Nādirā Kaif.
She was, herself, not more interested in her husband, Deepak Khandelwal.
She was interested now in winning my heart itself.
“I was a fool to marry a Manager of a Company.” Deepak Khandelwal’s extra ordinary beautiful Libyan Muslim wife, Al Ħabībah Al Ħusain, had said once to her, “Nādirā dear, I could have won Durgesh’s heart myself.”
“Ħabībah!” Nādirā Kaif had stiffened.
“My playboy Hindu husband has a new girl friend, Sidrah Aħmad.”
“Allah!” Nādirā Kaif said under her breath, “Not once again.”
“She lives in Mumbai.”
“How do you know?”
“I have my own information sources.”
“Allah! Allah!” Nādirā Kaif said.
“Let your boss, Deepak Khandelwal fuck Sidrah Aħmad. I’ll fuck the great Freelance Writer and Barrister, Durgesh himself.”
Nādirā Kaif had looked at Al Ħabībah Al Ħusain with startled eyes.
The girl, playing with my Hindu Penis, in the courtroom, had spread her beautiful Muslim eyes wide now.
“And―and in strength too.”
“I’ve not seen any penis increasing in such a way. It’s―it’s miraculous. It’s wonderful. It’s surprising.”
Suddenly a man, sitting beside her, addressed her,
I smiled at him.
“Do you know her?”
“More than herself.”
I whistled almost.
“I’m glad to meet you, Aħmad Sāħab!”
“You are not glad to meet me. You are glad to meet my wife, Sidrah Aħmad.”
I smiled back at him and bent down on Sidrah.
She lifted her wonderful Muslim mouth expectantly.
I looked around us.
We were in the last line of chairs, in the courtroom.
Sidrah was between her husband, Åbbās Aħmad, and me.
Every one was looking at Hudā and the witness, Imāmzādī Almās Kaif.
There were only two men in the last line of chairs.
Public Prosecutor Åbbās Aħmad, Sidrah’s husband; and me.
Only― Sidrah’s husband and me.
All the rest were beautiful young Muslim women, bearing burqās.
Every one of them was bearing burqā.
And it was not Pakistan.
It was India.
I knew I was quite safe in kissing Sidrah Aħmad, openly, in the courtroom itself.
I kissed her passionately.
How beautiful Sidrah Aħmad was.
Her lips were juicy.
She clung to me.
I hugged her.
Both her pointed, erect, Muslim boobs were penetrating my wide Hindu masculine chest.
My right Hindu palm automatically went to her gorgeous Muslim buttocks.
It was habitual to do so.
As soon as, my brain felt, there’s a young woman, surrendering to me for sex and clinging to me, my right palm automatically went to her buttocks.
“Kiss me.” Sidrah Aħmad whispered to me, passionately, “Kiss me passionately, Durgesh! Otherwise I’d die.”
“Don’t worry, my darling, I’ll never let you die.”
I could not believe my ears.
“What?” I looked at him incredulously.
“He is right, Durgesh!” Sidrah Aħmad whispered under her hot, burning, scorching, breaths.
Her Sunni Muslimah breath was fragrant and intoxicating.
Both her hands were around my neck.
My Hindu Penis again demanded entry quite angrily.
I felt that if I don’t enter Sidrah Aħmad, my Hindu Penis would break down out of intense passion.
Suddenly, I pulled her on my lap.
The people were suddenly asking.
There was a sudden disorder in the courtroom.
Public Prosecutor, Nādir Muħammad had turned to us.
Judge Shrīkānt M. Āgnéý banged his gavel,
“Order. Order. What’s happening there? There must be no disturbance any more. Otherwise, I’ll clear the courtroom.”
Nādirā Kaif shut off her computer, crossed her secretarial office, entered the reception room and opened the door.
Kush Khandelwal, his eyes shining with eagerness, held up a laptop for her inspection.
“Hello, Nādirā auntie! Hello, Nādirā auntie!!” he said.
Al Ħabībah Al Ħusain, Deepak Khandelwal’s extra ordinary beautiful Libyan Muslim wife, moved steadily and deliberately on her high heeled light walking shoes.
She came almost marching down the corridor.
Nādirā Kaif put her arm around the boy, Kush Khandelwal, and lifted him up.
“He is the best gift to me from my ex Hindu husband, Deepak Khandelwal.” Al Ħabībah Al Ħusain, smiled at Nādirā sweetly.
Nādirā Kaif digested the information.
The information was altogether new to her, that Deepak Khandelwal was an ex Hindu husband, now, to Al Ħabībah Al Ħusain, Deepak Khandelwal’s extra ordinary beautiful Libyan Muslim wife.
Or, more correctly, ex Libyan Muslim wife.
Nādirā Kaif kissed Kush.
She knew, sooner or later, it was bound to happen.
Deepak Khandelwal was completely in a sexual magic spell of this Sidrah Aħmad.
It was to the extent that he was neglecting Al Ħabībah Al Ħusain, his extra ordinary beautiful Libyan Muslim wife, too.
“I see, you are not surprised.” Al Ħabībah Al Ħusain, smiled at her.
“I am already surprised, Al Ħabībah! Deepak is neglecting you for an Indian Muslim girl.”
“Not an Indian Muslim girl―a Sunni Muslim girl.”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you not Sunni?”
“You should have asked him.”
“You should have asked him, when he tried to black mail you to make you sleep with him.”
Nādirā Kaif smiled,
“I don’t blame him, Al Ħabībah!”
“We all―all of us―are human beings. When our stomach is filled, our life between our thighs starts to demand from us more and more.”
Deepak Khandelwal’s extra ordinary beautiful Libyan Muslim wife, Al Ħabībah Al Ħusain, sat down on a sofa.
“I’m listening.” She smiled, “I like your philosophy of life.”
Nādirā Kaif also sat down on sofa chair, opposite Al Ħabībah.
“Well, it’s not exactly original.”
“Influenced from Durgesh?”
“Heavily. The only thing, I can’t digest from Durgesh, is that he proposes―”
“I think, his genes make him to behave in such an absurd manner.”
Deepak Khandelwal stood leaning against the rail as an inky ribbon of black water widened between the ship and the dock.
The hoarse whistle bellowed into noise as spectators on the pier waved hands and handkerchiefs in farewell.
Propellers churned the water into yeasty foam, and then subsided.
The strains of Aloha Oe, snug by the soft voices of beautiful Muslim women, reached the ears of suddenly silent passengers.
Minutes later, as the shore noises drifted astern, Deepak Khandelwal, watching the Aloha tower shrinking in the background of city lights, could see the black outlines of the mountains rising in silent silhouette against the stars.
The hiss of water streaming past the ship’s side became increasingly audible.
Kħadeejah Muħammad clasped strong fingers over the back of my hand where it rested on the rail.
“I’ll never forget this, Durgesh!” She kissed me on my lips, “It’s big and quiet and solemn.”
I nodded, fingering the flowered leis that circled my neck with hands of red, white and purple.
“Want to stay, darling?” I asked.
“No―but it’s something I’ll never forget.”
My voice showed power and self-confidence,
“It’s been a wonderful interlude. A whole month of absolute nudity everywhere. All the beautiful Muslimahs from almost every Islamic country, and other countries too. All the handsome Hindu men from India. All the impotent Musalmeen husbands to serve us all. Your idea was really fantastic.”
Six inches long, when untouched by any beautiful nymph, eight inches long when serviced properly by her in her palm, ten inches long when sucked, and twelve inches long when inside.”
Deepak Khandelwal heard it, and grimaced.
His penis was eight inches long, but it never extended beyond nine inches, however it’s served by beautiful soft Muslim palms, mouths, cunts and asses.
Nine inches was his limit.
All his passionate sex kicks, inside even; could not extend it beyond nine inches, ever.
He had talked with Durgesh.
Kħadeejah Muħammad was sleeping.
All in nude.
Durgesh was also in nude.
Deepak Khandelwal was also in nude.
“I’d advised you, Deepak, to watch your Stavans.”
“My Eīshān Param Brahm Parmātmā?” I laughed, “Hey, He is not only mine.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“I sent my Secretary, Gul Jamāl to you. She let you fuck her on my request.”
“Oh,” I smiled at Gul Jamāl, “You are excellent on the bed, Gul!”
“I did not believe her.” Deepak Khandelwal groaned, “Yet, she proved to be right. I’m the only one here whose penis extends to nine inches only. All the rest extend between nine and ten inches.”
Gul Jamāl was from Afghanistan.
She was a Pathan Muslim girl.
Immensely beautiful of course.
She conspired with me against her boss, Deepak Khandelwal.
Now, Deepak Khandelwal could not satisfy her absolutely, as he could satisfy her till now.
“But you are Deepak’s secretary, Gul! Will he let you?”
“I’m his secretary―not his wife.” Gul Jamāl flared.
“Even his wife, Deepak Khandelwal’s extra ordinary beautiful Libyan Muslim wife, Al Ħabībah Al Ħusain, is planning to fuck you, and you are trying to stop me! His secretary?”
Public Prosecutor, Nādir Muħammad came to us marching angrily.
Public Prosecutor, Åbbās Aħmad, also shouted angrily,
“What do you think?”
“Behave. Who are you?”
“Yes! And this is my card. Take it. Here it is.”
Nādir Muħammad looked at him madly.
“What are you looking at? That’s my face―not my card.”
Nādir Muħammad took the card.
Deepak Khandelwal’s extra ordinary beautiful Libyan Muslim wife, Al Ħabībah Al Ħusain, smiled at Nādirā Kaif.
Nādirā Kaif tried to change the subject,
“I’ve some work to do, Al Ħabībah!”
“A very important job. We are working against a deadline.”
“I know. Kħadeejah Muħammad is coming Monday morning.” Al Ħabībah Al Ħusain’s voice showed her utter indifference to the urgency of the matter.
Why should she be afraid of Kħadeejah Muħammad any more?
It was Deepak Khandelwal, who was the manager of Durgesh Kħadeejah Muħammad Diamond Mining, Smelting & Investment Company―not she.
She has decided to divorce Deepak Khandelwal now.
“Nādirā!” she addressed Nādirā Kaif sweetly, “Would you be a dear and watch Kush for thirty minutes? I’ve a very important personal appointment and I just can’t take him with me. You know, you are the only one, he’ll stay with.”
Al Ħabībah Al Ħusain, Deepak Khandelwal’s extra ordinary beautiful Libyan Muslim wife, glanced at her wristwatch.
Nādirā Kaif knew that the thirty minutes could be at least forty-five and might well be an hour.
And if Al Ħabībah is going to Durgesh―
“Are you going to Durgesh?” Nādirā Kaif asked Al Ħabībah suddenly, smiling.
“Why not?” Al Ħabībah also smiled back at Nādirā Kaif, “Why should I not? Your boss, Deepak Khandelwal, is interested in Sidrah Aħmad more, than in me. Why should I not go to Deepak Khandelwal’s boss, Durgesh, and offer myself to him?”
“Well―” Nādirā Kaif hesitated.
She looked at her wristwatch.
“I ask you it for my sake, Nādirā!” Deepak Khandelwal’s extra ordinary beautiful Libyan Muslim wife, Al Ħabībah Al Ħusain said to her gravely, “We are friends, both against a man, Deepak Khandelwal.”
“Well, I’m not exactly against him, Al Ħabībah!” Nādirā Kaif tried to smile.
Al Ħabībah looked at her, astonished.
“Nādirā! You are not against a man who is trying to blackmail you constantly?”
“I know how beautiful I am, Al Ħabībah!”
“Your husband, Deepak Khandelwal, is not the only man who desires me. I can’t be against all the men who dream of me. I too dreamt of Durgesh.”
Nādirā Kaif laughed.
“No chance at all. Katrina is interested in her career, not in sex.”
Nādirā Kaif laughed loudly.
“Nādirā! You are playing with dynamite.”
“And if Durgesh wants to fuck her then and there?”
Al Ħabībah smiled,
“Actually, Nādirā! Kush has some things he wants to talk over with you. He’s been rather upset this morning. Gul Jamāl is also not here.”
“Oh, Nādirā auntie!” Kush pleaded, “Let me stay here with you, please! I want to talk with you.”
“All right.” Nādirā Kaif said, “But you are going to have to be a good boy, Kush! You’re going to sit on a chair and watch your Nādirā auntie work. I have some very important statements to get out.”
“I’ll be good.” Kush promised.
He climbed into a chair, and seated himself with his hands in a possessive way on the laptop.
Al Ħabībah Al Ħusain headed for the door.
“I’m coming after fucking that HVS Supremo.”
“Best of luck.” Nādirā Kaif laughed at her.
“Thank you.” Al Ħabībah called after and waved her.
Nādirā Kaif smiled at Kush,
“What’s in the laptop?”
Nādirā Kaif regarded the laptop with sudden apprehension,
“Now look here, Kush! You don’t have those dirty videos stored in your laptop. Not again that dirty 6yrs old girl, Samīnā; sucking your Hindu manhood, giving you a fine blowjob, as you say.”
Kush smiled and shook his head,
“This isn’t my laptop. It’s Daddy’s.”
“What do you mean?”
“Daddy keeps his laptop in his bedroom, upstairs. Last night he let me put my laptop too in his bedroom. He said we‘d interchange our laptops one day. Therefore, this morning, I took his laptop.
The words poured out with Kush’s childish accent.
They were spoken so rapidly that one word seemed literally to tread on the heels of another as they left the child’s lips.
Nādirā Kaif regarded the laptop thoughtfully.
It may contain anything.
Even the secret information regarding the Company, Durgesh Kħadeejah Muħammad Diamond Mining Smelting & Investment Company.
Yes, it can’t be reached without proper password, but Deepak Khandelwal had a bad habit about passwords.
He usually used his current girl friend’s name as password.
If she is right, it must be SIDRAH now.
Once it was Ħabībah.
Once it was Nādirā too, though she never was his girl friend.
“Nice to meet you here at Jabalpur. Myself Nādir Muħammad, Public Prosecutor here.”
Åbbās gripped Nādir Muħammad’s hand in his strong palm.
“Nice to meet you too. Nice to meet you too. She is my wife, Sidrah Aħmad.”
“On Durgesh’s lap?” Nādir Muħammad asked in the flow, but he regretted it as soon as he asked it.
She clung to me again with entire her feminine force.
“She is ill.” Åbbās Aħmad said.
I squeezed Sidrah Aħmad’s beautiful Muslim tits on the pretext that I was taking care of her.
Sidrah Aħmad shuddered on my hot Hindu lap.
Judge Shrīkānt M. Āgnéý had taken a fifteen-minute recess to clear the matter.
He was in his chamber now.
My entire existence was shouting at me, to tear off her dress, make her naked, and fuck her then and there in the very courtroom.
It was throbbing there trying to penetrate her Sunni Muslim asshole.
Sidrah Aħmad was madly clinging to me, kissing on my forehead, on my face, on my lips, on my neck and where not.
“What is your wife doing, Sir? What is your wife doing, Sir?” he asked feverishly.
“Doctor?” We all were surprised.
All the people surrounding us were suddenly all praise for the world known, renowned psychiatrist from Mumbai, Dr. Ameenah Sultān Åālam.
She had with her several assistant women psychiatrists as well.
They all produced their papers to the effect.
Then, suddenly, he took all those papers and marched to the Judge’s chamber, gravely.
More Creative Adult Sex in English from Durgesh
1. Bahoo Bégum
30. Sālī, Ammījān!
44. Hell, I revolt
64. I live with him
More creative adult sex in Hindi/Urdu from Durgesh:
13. Eidul Fitr-1
Science Fictions from DSM Satyarthi:
18. Saamved: Mantr 1