1: Of my Musalmān friends
I am not a sailor and I had never been more than a mile from shore in my life until my friend, Muħammad Åbdullah’s daughter, Al Tawaħīd Al Islam, said she wanted a month’s vacation on the Gulf of Mexico.
Now when it comes to my little princess, it is hard to say,
“NO I do not want to go”.
Muħammad Åbdullah allowed his wife, Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb, to have sex with me, because he wasn’t interested in sex, at all, anymore.
I felt embarrassed in fucking a lady I called Bhābhījān sometimes.
“But I called her Bhābhījān.” I protested.
“What the hell difference does it make? You follow Ħuzūr sallallāhu ålayhi wa sallam. Don’t you?”
“Don’t try to take advantage of my Īmān, Muħammad Åbdullah.” I said somewhat angrily, “I’m not a Panjvaqtah Namāzī, I accept. Nevertheless, I have an ever-indomitable Īmān on the Kħātimul Rasal, Muħsin-e-insāniyat, Nabī Ākħiruzzamān, Ħuzūr sallallāhu ålayhi wa sallam. Nevertheless, he never had sex with any of his friend’s wife he used to call Bhābhījān.”
I had to surrender ultimately when Muħammad Åbdullah told me,
“Al Jāsiyah has consented not to have Kħul’å from me only if you consent to provide her as much sex as she needs.”
I twisted to Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān.
“Shut up,” Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān interrupted me, “You idiot, Am I not beautiful?”
“Of course, you are beautiful, Bhābhījān. You are extremely beautiful. But I never saw you with sexual intention in my mind.”
Al Jāsiyah Bhābhījān smiled.
“That’s why I call you an idiot, Durgesh. I never saw you platonically.”
I was stunned.
“You are the only man I loved sexually in my entire life. Not Muħammad Åbdullah.”
I was dumbfounded.
“And…and you never told me?”
“Nope!” she contradicted me vehemently, “I always told you. But you never believed me.”
“Bhābhījān, I always thought you were only kidding me.” I said quite offended.
Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān laughed sarcastically.
“I thought that was your madness for me. Once you’d have your honeymoon with me you’d forget me and would be ever loyal to my friend, Muħammad Åbdullah.”
Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān again laughed sarcastically.
“After our tremendous wild honeymoon for complete one year? Are you crazy?”
“You always tried to stop sex with me. Yet I never allowed doing it. Didn’t I?”
“You never loved Muħammad Åbdullah?” I asked her gravely.
“He is a damn fool.” Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān laughed open heartedly, “He married me even while I told him I love you and none else. He was too obsessed with my divine mesmerizing Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān beauty that he accepted to be cuckolded to us both and even to the extent that he cleaned me licking my sexual organs after I have sex with you. You think any sane Musalmān woman can love such an impotent ever?”
There was immense venom for Muħammad Åbdullah in her voice.
“You never understood why the hell Muħammad Åbdullah allowed his every beautiful Musalmān houselady to have sex with you. You thought he is making sacrifices for you. You idiot, he does nothing of the sort. Actually he is an obsessed voyeur that loves to watch your extremely experienced Uncut Hindu Cock visiting beautiful Musalmān Cunts and beautiful gorgeous female Musalmān ass. You think he is a man? How the hell he is?”
“Muħammad Åbdullah,” I twisted at him.
“She hates me intensely, Durgesh.” Muħammad Åbdullah said gravely, “I’m immensely grateful to you that you kept fucking her until now for me. Now please continue. For my sake. She never loved me. She is right. She has cuckolded me for both of you. Remember she uses me as her footstool even while you fuck her. Doesn’t she?”
“Divorce her, Muħammad Åbdullah.” I said gravely, “Be a man.”
“And what about Al Tawaħīd Al Islam? She is my daughter from Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb. Isn’t she?”
“Why the hell Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān allowed you to have sex with her if she never loved you?”
“Because I wanted a daughter from her. I told her if she didn’t give me a daughter of my own, I’d divorce her anyway.”
“What?” I couldn’t believe it.
Muħammad Åbdullah was too obsessed to divorce Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān ever.
He watched her having her shab-ůrosī and even her entire honeymoon with me.
She compelled him to take even the videos of our sexual intercourses everywhere in every possible and impossible sex positions.
Yet he threatened her to divorce?
And Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān surrendered?
“Surprised?” Muħammad Åbdullah smiled sarcastically, “Don’t. She is now obsessed with my licking her sexual organs after you fuck her. She can’t live now without my tongue into her Musalmān Cunt and Musalmān ass. She needs it now as much as she needs your unique infinitely experienced Uncut Hindu Cock there. She has led this abnormal life now so much that now it’s her normal lifestyle. She needs both of us for her healthy survival.”
However, Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān wasn’t alone such an abnormal woman.
Al Tawaħīd Al Islam was about to turn 19 and it was her last year before college.
I agreed with her as a birthday present to spend her vacation at sea.
She told me she would take care of everything and I should not worry about anything.
Of course, when it came time to pay, that was my job.
I did not question her choices on the subject.
She has a way of getting me to do things that I would never think of doing except for her.
When she bats her big sky blue eyes and pouts her bottom lip, as a stepdad and a man, no one could deny giving her the world.
About Al Tawaħīd Al Islam,
Let me say that as far as women go, she is above all of them in every manor one could list.
She is short in stature at just less than 5 feet in her bare feet.
If she kept her clothes on and was soaking wet she still would not weigh more than 100lbs. and most of that is in her tits, (32C cup) and ass, a perky little bubble below her tiny waist that would make an M&M candy melt without being your mouth.
Pixie blond hair just above her shoulders topping her off.
For the past few years, I found she was attracting the boys; some were older than she was and I had spent many days chasing them away.
She would always try to reassure me that “I am a good girl Durgesh, but then when the time is right, look out because I will be so good at being bad!” Those were her words not mine.
On her 18th birthday, I gave her some audio and video tapes from her mom, Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān, as guide for her life.
Therefore, my life had been easier to deal with as well, but I never passed up spending time with my princess, not work, not golf or dating would come between her and me.
Our port of call was Tampa FL and when we went to board, I knew that she had a plan of some sort because of the crew.
We were informed; that we had a crew of seven sailors, two busty female stewards, a chef, plus Captain Al Rashīdah Al Waħīd would be at our command and only she and I as passengers on a 200ft yacht named “Down on Me II”.
One of the pretty stewards gave us a tour of the boat, and she then led us to our staterooms.
Al Tawaħīd Al Islam, told me to get ready for the sea life and she would meet me on deck in half an hour.
I dressed casual, went topside to the dining room, and had a drink waiting on my little girl so we could have diner.
She entered and when I saw, her, my mouth hit the table.
She had on a very elegant dress that one would expect to see at maybe the Oscars.
One of the Hollywood starlets would wear but she would have made them look shabby in comparison.
Her gown was shear in places, split in other places, and showed her body to be that of a woman on a mission.
Two of the sailors and both of the stewards were on a small stage playing music, very romantic music, as she walked across the room.
Out of nowhere, an older woman came and introduced herself as the chef and server, I had no idea she was even on board nor at that moment did I care.
She brought a bottle wine.
Al Tawaħīd Al Islam, said,
“Durgesh, would it be ok if I have some wine with you tonight?”
I replied “Princess, thank you for asking and yes if you drink in moderation you can drink anytime we are on the ship.”
I knew I couldn’t stop her from taking wine however.
She wasn’t my daughter exactly after all.
She loved her Ammī more.
Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān especially instructed Al Tawaħīd Al Islam.
“Take anything from Durgesh, but never his ethics. They are utopian. If I’d taken his ethics as well as tremendous sex from him, I would have died until now, celibate.”
Al Tawaħīd Al Islam smiled at me and confirmed her Ammī.
“Never worry, Ammī. I’m your daughter. And I’m proud of you. You never did anything wrong. Even in cuckolding Abbū. He loves cuckold life with you and Durgesh. He enjoys it. He hates to have sex as a man now ever, as much as Durgesh loves to have it, every time everywhere with every Musalmān Beauty Durgesh can manage to.”
She just smiled and nodded her pretty head as she sipped her wine.
The chef informed us of what our meal was to be for the evening and said if we would like anything, she could change the menu, but the menu was prepared in advance when Al Tawaħīd Al Islam, booked the ship, and of course, I said it would be fine.
This was to be Al Tawaħīd Al Islam’s last meal as a high School girl and at midnight; she would be 19 so she wanted to be tipsy when that day came as she had said on a few occasions.
While she sat looking so beautiful, I felt the love for her.
Even my heart began to ache thinking that she would soon be leaving me to find her way in life.
My heart was breaking and I felt a tear in welling up in my eyes.
I controlled myself immediately.
Stop being unduly sentimental.
I stood up, but before I stepped forward, she herself stood up too, and asked me,
“Durgesh, My dear, would you care to dance with a young lady that loves no man else more than you?”
“Yet you love your Ammī, Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān, even more than me. Don’t you, you naughty girl?”
“Sure,” Al Tawaħīd Al Islam laughed proudly holding her head high, “Ammī is my ideal and ideal of millions of us young Musalmān ladies. She is an important executive in Cuckold your Musalmān husband Movement of Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan the ultramodern Kħātūn-e-Jannat razī Allahu tåālā ånahā.”
Al Tawaħīd Al Islam smiled at me as she reached for my hand.
We danced as I held her we talked and laughed it was one of the greatest dances I can remember.
Holding her close and her perfume rose as if flowers were all around us and I pulled her closer.
My hand on her back was touching her smooth, silky skin and as I looked down into her blue eyes, I became aware of movement in my casual shorts I had on and suddenly I felt under-dressed.
It was as though I did not have enough material between this lovely creature and the devil growing down lower.
I started to put some space between my friend, Muħammad Åbdullah’s daughter, and my body but as I tried to move back, she held on even tighter.
There I was with a growing presence in my shorts and my friend, Muħammad Åbdullah’s daughter, holding on ever so close!
What was I doing!
Nevertheless, I was never ashamed of it.
Neither I was afraid of what Al Tawaħīd Al Islam, would think about me, getting an erection while dancing with her?
She would feel proud of herself instead that she could turn on even as experienced a man sexually as I was.
Was I a pervert?
I never thought of having sex with her.
Would she ever want to dance with me again?
She loved every moment of it.
The music stopped.
I sophisticatedly guided her back to our table.
As I sat down, I have to admit that I neither felt flushed nor embarrassed doing everything to keep from not looking at her.
Al Tawaħīd Al Islam, made it simple by talking about the plans she had made.
She told me about what we would be doing when we made landfall around the Gulf.
The different cities and fairs she had heard of during her research for this trip.
I nodded my head and smiled gravely.
I had hoped sitting down would give my erection and my erotic thinking a break but it was no avail.
I was still erect.
For Al Tawaħīd Al Islam?
Anyone could satisfy its need.
Why Al Tawaħīd Al Islam alone?
Al Tawaħīd Al Islam said something and it caught me by surprise.
I had to ask her to repeat what she had just said.
“Durgesh, I know that you love me and you miss Ammī now. I understand it would have been better if Ammī had been with you instead of me. Yet I’m myself a young Musalmān lady now and it’s bad manners to keep reminding me that you aren’t comfortable with me. I want to help you move on from your Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān complex! That is why I have put Viagra into your food. I hope you will forgive me.”
My reply was shock at first.
Was she as crazy too as her Ammī, Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān is?
In my food?
What the hell she is after, after all?
She kept talking.
I knew her intentions were meant to help but there would be little chance of fixing my loneliness on board the ship.
That is when she said,
“Remember the tapes Ammī gave me when she allowed me to come with you?”
“Yes darling, I don’t know what was on them but yes I remember.”
“Ammī told me that she knew you love her and that you would have trouble getting on with your routine life whenever she isn’t with you. And she wanted you to enjoy your time till you two would be together again.”
My Princess kept talking,
“Ammī made a lot of tapes with different topics on them and she left other things as well. She had a space set aside in the old barn that was for my private place to watch and listen to her so I could enjoy and laugh and whatever else I needed to do. She said that if I reached 19 and you had not moved on then she wanted me to help you return to your former ways. She taught me different things to help you and during this cruse, we are to do those things. Ammī said only if I wanted to, so I want you to know that what we do on this trip is my choice and of course you have to be willing to allow me to carry out Ammī’s wish list for you.”
I was shocked.
Yet I felt my friend, Muħammad Åbdullah’s wife, Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān, had more insight into me than I had ever thought possible.
It seemed she knew me better than even I knew myself.
I was immensely grave!
Al Tawaħīd Al Islam, came to my side, hugged me, and ran her tiny fingers through my hair to calm me.
She lifted my face to hers and then to my surprise, kissed me!
It was not a father daughter kiss.
It was an open mouth lover type, very soft and tender, yet passionate!
My head was spinning, not quite realizing the true meaning of all that she said.
It was not what I was expecting but I just held her and enjoyed the Moment.
I was Sixty-Seven now.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was the most prominent of them.
She was practically now my present Chief Wife.
There were millions of them with their beautiful Ammīs as well.
It wasn’t anything new now for me.
Even it wasn’t abnormal for me now.
It was absolutely normal for me.
I was the utmost admired utmost invited sex therapist now every educated family wants to inaugurate their daughters.
They were afraid of inexperienced invasion of their daughters causing some potential problem in future in their sexual and family life.
It was better to let the utmost successful utmost experienced Sex Therapist take their cherry for their potential inexperienced husband/lover.
Even their minimum one-year honeymoon with me, continued with their inauguration, was suggested now by their family medical experts.
It was not a marital honeymoon however.
It was an inaugural honeymoon instead medically necessary for their future happy life.
Sex with me was a medical necessity now to keep family life happy and vibrant.*
I knew very well however what the real necessity of it behind these entire medical iterations.
The true facts was the continuously increasing disinterest of the males in physical sex.
They wanted to hire me to provide the necessary sex to their womankind, they themselves neither had time nor interest in.
The matter-oriented life had tired most of them to keep pace with.
Nowadays even husbands were hiring me not even to provide optimum sex to their wives but even to impregnate them.
“Why do you want my son from your Bahū Bégum instead of your own son’s?” I asked gravely Dr. Jalāluddīn Ibrāhīm Shékħ himself.
“You know very well Durgesh, Muħammad Jahāngīr isn’t my own son. He is my wife, Asmā’s son from her previous marriage. After Farīdah Jalāl Shékħ I married Asmā you know.”
“Your Bahū Bégum is ready to have sex with me to get pregnant?”
“I haven’t another option.” Asmā Farħān smiled at me indignantly, “He is suffering from Aids.”
“What?” I kept myself forcibly from jumping.
Have I now even to impregnate Aids affected persons’ wives?
Family virtues are not in vogue now anymore?
The parents hire me to inaugurate their Just eighteen Just Adult daughters with one year inaugural honeymoon with entire expenses fully paid separately.
The husbands hire me to provide optimum sex to their beautiful wives so that they are busy not to interfere in their business.
The business is more important now than family virtues.
The in laws hire me to get their Bahū Bégum inseminated to have their grandson.
The son is not interested in having sex with their Bahū Bégum.
They are hiring me to keep their Bahū Bégum sexually satisfied.
Is it the twenty first century?
Sex is so insignificant now?
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Flowers never weigh
I said, taking her hand,
We began walking.
Al Ħabībah Al Imrān couldn’t help but glance back at me to see if I was watching her…
Oddly, that made Al Ħabībah Al Imrān feel sad, which was, of course, ludicrous.
She loved Durgesh actually.
She loved Durgesh fucked her.
As we walked down the trail, Al Ħabībah Al Imrān had the sudden urge to show me Al Ħabībah Al Imrān loved me.
Al Ħabībah Al Imrān needed to make up for Al Ħabībah Al Imrān’s indiscretion by doing something to Al Ħabībah Al Imrān’s oblivious husband.
Twenty minutes in the hike, Al Ħabībah Al Imrān saw a small side path and said,
“Al Ħabībah Al Imrān, I don’t think this is a trail.”
“Al Ħabībah Al Imrān hopes not,” Al Ħabībah Al Imrān purred, trying to look sexy and with intent.
Al Ħabībah Al Imrān considered letting me fuck her, but Al Ħabībah Al Imrān sure didn’t want me to know Al Ħabībah Al Imrān wasn’t wearing panties.
“Al Ħabībah Al Imrān, really here?”
“You always say you wish Al Ħabībah Al Imrān was more spontaneous,” Al Ħabībah Al Imrān quipped, which if I knew just how spontaneous Al Ħabībah Al Imrān had been today I would likely keel over.
Plus, although we had a reasonable amount of sex and Al Ħabībah Al Imrān was very willing in the bedroom, Al Ħabībah Al Imrān was not really a risk taker outside the bedroom.
But insecurity, or belief that sex was for the bedroom, seemed to be shattered after the exhilarating, taboo sex Al Ħabībah Al Imrān had in the backseat of the car.
Suddenly, Al Ħabībah Al Imrān wanted to take risks.
Al Ħabībah Al Imrān loved sucking cock… always had.
Was a bit of a cock sucking Sex Obsessed Sex Addict in high school, deciding it was a good way to save Al Ħabībah Al Imrān’s virginity for marriage.
Plus, Al Ħabībah Al Imrān was good at it and actually liked the unique feeling and taste of cum.
Of course, Al Ħabībah Al Imrān ended up not saving Al Ħabībah Al Imrān’s virginity for marriage, getting fucked at the first college party Al Ħabībah Al Imrān went to by a college senior.
“Oh shit,” Muħammad Imrān groaned, “what has gotten into you?”
The answer to that question was his daughter, but that definitely didn’t seem like a good answer.
“Can’t a wife show her husband she loves him by sucking his cock and swallowing his load?”
“Yes she can,” I laughed.
“And for your complexion, too,” I added, having heard from Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, her ever–Durgesh– obsessed young Musalmān lady brigade ,from Dr. Farīdah Jalāl Shékħ and from even her so uncommunal ever sophisticated Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān husband Dr. Jalāluddīn Ibrāhīm Shékħ that sucking my Hindu cum was very good for a Musalmān woman’s complexion.
Al Ħabībah Al Imrān protested,
“Don’t you dare.”
Al Ħabībah Al Imrān thought to herself,
‘If you only knew.’
Yet, Al Ħabībah Al Imrān kept bobbing, feeling oddly exhilarated doing it in such a public place.
Al Ħabībah Al Imrān gasped, “Really?”
Al Ħabībah Al Imrān had two weaknesses her ever moral Musalmān husband, Muħammad Imrān, always hated to fulfill.
She loved to suck Cock.
She loved to have anal sex even.
When the kiss ended, I said,
“Well, that was unexpected.”
“Al Ħabībah Al Imrān was hungry,” Al Ħabībah Al Imrān shrugged, smiling seductively.
Now, their own history of defeat against Islam was proving them entirely incorrect.
They never needed to.
We headed back down the trail and resumed the hike hand in hand.
Al Ħabībah Al Imrān didn’t know how long it took, but eventually we returned to the beginning.
“You should probably go to the washroom before we head out.”
“Good call,” Al Ħabībah Al Imrān nodded, “I really need to use washroom.”
“And clean the cum off,” I teased her smiling playfully.
“Sure. Allah, you let me wear it that whole hike,” Al Ħabībah Al Imrān said, somehow forgetting it was on her.
“Well, you didn’t seem too concerned, and we don’t know anyone here,” I shrugged.
“Which is why Al Ħabībah Al Imrān mentioned it,” I winked at her.
“You wish,” Al Ħabībah Al Imrān quipped back, even though Al Ħabībah Al Imrān assumed we would indeed be fucking tonight.
“No, Al Ħabībah Al Imrān, I know,” I said, slapping Al Ħabībah Al Imrān’s ass lightly playfully.
Al Ħabībah Al Imrān went to the washroom.
Al Ħabībah Al Imrān grabbed a Gatorade and a chocolate bar and returned to the car.
Her husband and I were leaning against the car, chatting. Al Ħabībah Al Imrān wondered how weird it would be if we were chatting about sex.
Al Ħabībah Al Imrān joined us and asked,
“Ready to go?”
“Ready to have your Al Ħabībah Al Imrān squishing you for a couple of more hours?” Al Ħabībah Al Imrān countered.
“It’s been a tight squeeze,” I countered myself too.
How doesn’t he understand what his ever-horny Musalmān wife is doing right behind him?
It was easy to be born in Ummat-e-Muslimah.
But it wasn’t easy to be a real Muslim.
Now, I was one of the several Musalmīn, Musalmīn Everfirst to be more correct, that were again attempting our best to reestablish the true Islamic movement, opposing the terrorists and other Pseudo Musalmīn everywhere.
Humanity couldn’t survive without it.
“Yes, it’s like a hot box back there.”
“It’s like a weight loss program back there.”
Muħammad Imrān said,
“I’m sorry we hadn’t planned this better.”
I joked, repeating an earlier statement Al Ħabībah Al Imrān had made,
“It’s made for some special Al Ħabībah Al Imrān and my bonding.”
“Well, get ready to bond some more,” Muħammad Imrān said, “It’s a good two to three hours until our late supper stop.”
I had a big smile on my face.
Why the hell shouldn’t have I?
Al Ħabībah Al Imrān was serving me her ever-best sex services, perhaps she hadn’t served even to her husband, Muħammad Imrān.
We were back in the car, Al Ħabībah Al Imrān was back on my lap, this time on my right leg leaning against the boxes.
Again, like last time, I ignored Al Ħabībah Al Imrān for the first hour.
As Al Ħabībah Al Imrān fidgeted, again uncomfortable, I asked,
“Uncomfortable, my dear?”
Al Ħabībah Al Imrān nodded.
Al Ħabībah Al Imrān couldn’t take Her eyes off it.
Al Ħabībah Al Imrān looked back at me with confusion.
I moved my hand onto Al Ħabībah Al Imrān’s leg, under Al Ħabībah Al Imrān’s dress and directly to Al Ħabībah Al Imrān’s wet Musalmān pussy.
Al Ħabībah Al Imrān moaned softly, but thankfully, the music covered it.
Al Ħabībah Al Imrān just sat on my lap and allowed me to penis her pussy…
I did it for a good five minutes… getting Al Ħabībah Al Imrān hot and riled.
“Delicious,” Al Ħabībah Al Imrān said, loud enough that Al Ħabībah Al Imrān’s oblivious husband heard.
“What’s delicious?” Muħammad Imrān asked.
“The snack Al Ħabībah Al Imrān shared with me,” I brazenly replied.
“Is there any left?” Muħammad Imrān asked.
“No, Al Ħabībah Al Imrān ate it all,” I responded, as Al Ħabībah Al Imrān remained stoic and not ashamed.
She looked at me proudly and even triumphantly instead.
It was evident enough she hated her husband immensely and wanted to punish him as much as she could.
Poor Muħammad Imrān.
I couldn’t enjoy it.
Muħammad Imrān wasn’t my enemy exactly.
He was my friend’s son.
Even if my friend suspected his wife had her extramarital affair with me and Muħammad Imrān was actually my own son.
However, most of my male acquaintances suspected so.
He wasn’t alone.
There were many reasons behind it.
They never took sex as seriously as I always did.
Yes, they hated me for it.
Yet, I knew they were even jealous of me for it.
The damn fools.
They never understood what they actually lacked comparatively.
I believed in Pavmān Som Mandal.
I had seriously studied it and still do in my daily Stavans, daily meditations.
It said sex wasn’t dirty ever in itself.
We, the human beings make it dirty due to our immense ignorance, irresponsibility, and ever-adamant immense irrationality due to our inherent inertia.
Sex is divine otherwise.
It is blessed on us to keep our human race exist.
It must be always respected as such.*
Al Ħabībah Al Imrān’s oblivious husband said, continuing the surreal conversation,
“Al Ħabībah Al Imrān, I too could use a snack,”
“Maybe next car stop,” I suggested.
“I’m definitely stopping,” Muħammad Imrān said. “Al Ħabībah Al Imrān, I could use a bathroom break anyway.”
“It’s hot back here,” I said, also taking my shirt off, suddenly showcasing my rock hard abs… something Muħammad Imrān had lost years ago.
It was a miracle for others.
Yet, for me it was a natural scientific process.
The others could never achieve it, because they never tried to complete the scientific process involved for it.
It was the main problem of the losers ever.
They thought they had nothing to learn from the gainers ever.
Most of the losers were always losers because they never tried to learn anything from their failures even.
Al Ħabībah Al Imrān should have resisted, but the invisible magnetic pull was too much.
Al Ħabībah Al Imrān took it in her hand and stroked it, even as Muħammad Imrān could stare at us in the rear view mirror if he wished… although he would only see her hungry face.
Al Ħabībah Al Imrān was ready to climb on top and go for a ride when Muħammad Imrān said,
His words and the slowing car brought Al Ħabībah Al Imrān back to reality like a cold shower.
Al Ħabībah Al Imrān let go of my cock and to Al Ħabībah Al Imrān’s surprise, I didn’t put my cock away, as we rolled to a stop at a small town gas station.
Muħammad Imrān said, “Five minute stop,” as he exited.
“Two minute snack,” I said, opening the door, and ordering, “suck me, Al Ħabībah Al Imrān.”
Al Ħabībah Al Imrān gasped.
Al Ħabībah Al Imrān wanted to suck me, but couldn’t believe I wanted Al Ħabībah Al Imrān to here, even though Muħammad Imrān had conveniently parked in a secluded spot.
“Hurry up, Al Ħabībah Al Imrān,” I ordered, “we only have time for an appetizer.”
Al Ħabībah Al Imrān quickly got out of the car, overwhelmed with insatiable hunger and lust, turned around, and demanded, as Al Ħabībah Al Imrān lowered her Panjvaqtah Namāzī beautiful young Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān mouth onto my Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Cock, “Watch for the damn fool.”
Al Ħabībah Al Imrān bobbed quickly.
Al Ħabībah Al Imrān would have liked to savor sucking my cock, Al Ħabībah Al Imrān loved to worship the Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Cock, but time was of the essence.
So Al Ħabībah Al Imrān furiously bobbed up and down, enjoying the groans coming from my mouth.
“I’m close, Al Ħabībah Al Imrān,” I warned and Al Ħabībah Al Imrān bobbed faster making it clear I had permission to cum in my new live in relationship partner, her mouth.
Then suddenly I said,
“Muħammad Imrān! Muħammad Imrān! Muħammad Imrān!”
Al Ħabībah Al Imrān quickly left and saw Muħammad Imrān with a small bag.
“You have to pee, don’t you?”
“You know me,” Al Ħabībah Al Imrān shrugged, as Al Ħabībah Al Imrān headed into the gas station and to the washroom.
Al Ħabībah Al Imrān looked in the mirror.
What was coming over her?
Al Ħabībah Al Imrān had no answer to the question.
Al Ħabībah Al Imrān sucked me in a gas station parking lot and was seconds from swallowing my load.
For someone who wasn’t really a risk taker, Al Ħabībah Al Imrān had ridden me to orgasm in the backseat of the car while Muħammad Imrān drove, Al Ħabībah Al Imrān had sucked and swallowed my load on a secluded hiking trail and just now sucked me.
And I likely wanted her to finish what Al Ħabībah Al Imrān started when we were back on the road.
Al Ħabībah Al Imrān returned to the car.
Both men were already in the car.
Al Ħabībah Al Imrān moved back on the same right leg Al Ħabībah Al Imrān was on before we stopped.
Al Ħabībah Al Imrān liked being able to keep an eye on Muħammad Imrān and me.
As soon as we were back on the highway, I pointed back to my Cock.
Al Ħabībah Al Imrān wordlessly reached over and began stroking it, even as Muħammad Imrān had a conversation with me.
“So about seventy miles and then we will stop for dinner and a hotel,” Muħammad Imrān said.
“Sounds good,” Al Ħabībah Al Imrān said, again with a double meaning, “I’ll be starving by then, I may even have to have a nice juicy T-bone.”
“Me too,” Muħammad Imrān suggested, which Al Ħabībah Al Imrān had to bite Al Ħabībah Al Imrān’s lip to not laugh.
“What about you, Durgesh, what are you hungry for?” Al Ħabībah Al Imrān asked, giving me a look that spoke volumes.
I moved my hand underneath Al Ħabībah Al Imrān’s dress again and responded, my eyes never leaving hers,
“Oh, Al Ħabībah Al Imrān, I was hoping for the ultimate.”
Al Ħabībah Al Imrān tried to change the topic,
“Did you book us a hotel yet?”
Muħammad Imrān, never the planner, shrugged,
“There will be space,” Muħammad Imrān blindly believed.
“Okay,” Al Ħabībah Al Imrān shrugged, Al Ħabībah Al Imrān’s focus at the moment was on My cock.
“Looking forward to living on your own, Durgesh?” Muħammad Imrān asked.
“I’m going to have a roommate,” I pointed out.
“Oh, right,” Muħammad Imrān nodded, “are you looking forward to meeting her?”*
“Al Ħabībah Al Imrān I guess,” I responded, distracted by the way Al Ħabībah Al Imrān’s fingers traced around my mushroom top.
“Hopefully you get along,” Muħammad Imrān continued, trying to keep the dying conversation going.
Al Ħabībah Al Imrān asked,
“Who couldn’t love our sweet Durgesh?”
“Yes, I’m pretty much irresistible,” I quipped.
“Is that a good thing?” Muħammad Imrān questioned.
“Sometimes,” I answered.
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4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam