I looked at Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī.
“Well, the will is a public document. It can be read by anyone after probate. Al Muħammad Al Ghāzī, Al Nādir Al Ghāzī’s father, didn’t want, naturally, to invite speculation about his relationship with Al Ħanīfah Al Siddīq.”
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī grimaced.
“Everyone isn’t as bold as you are.”
“What do you mean?”
“You never tried to hide your relationships with women until and unless the women themselves requested you to do so.”
“Well, Al Ħanīfah Al Siddīq had allowed Al Muħammad Al Ghāzī to keep it clandestine. It was their personal matter.”
“Speculation!” Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī chuckled, “The old hypocrite. Everyone knows Al Muħammad Al Ghāzī kept her from day one. He must have left her something in the will too.”
“Well, you know he didn’t leave Al Ħanīfah Al Siddīq nothing. It’s only that Al Ħanīfah Al Siddīq isn’t in his will. Al Ħanīfah Al Siddīq was provided for a year before the death of Al Muħammad Al Ghāzī, Al Nādir Al Ghāzī’s father, at the beginning of his last illness.”
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī watched me apprehensively.
“I made his will for our firm HVS Law Internationals. Still Al Muħammad Al Ghāzī never told me what he gave to Al Ħanīfah Al Siddīq.”
“Al Nādir Al Ghāzī is trying to know asking you every now and then, you told me.” I was grave now, “It’s better you don’t know it.”
“Well, I want to know it myself.”
“I promised Al Muħammad Al Ghāzī and Al Ħanīfah Al Siddīq, both, never to tell it to anyone. I’m sorry it wouldn’t be right for me to go into that, Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī. There is a confidentiality in a relationship between─”
“I know, I know,” Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī interrupted, “I just wondered how he felt about Al Ħanīfah Al Siddīq at the end. Did he leave her the flat?”
“What if he did? Why Al Nādir Al Ghāzī is interested in it?” I said somewhat curtly, “It wasn’t Al Nādir Al Ghāzī’s money. It wasn’t his flat. His father Al Muħammad Al Ghāzī built it with his own money. Al Muħammad Al Ghāzī could give him to any black thief even if he wanted to. Tell him if he tries to know again, it’s none of his business.”
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī smiled.
“Al Nādir Al Ghāzī suspects you fucked Al Ħanīfah Al Siddīq even while his father, Al Muħammad Al Ghāzī, was alive.”
“The only person that could object it was Al Muħammad Al Ghāzī, Al Nādir Al Ghāzī’s father, not Al Nādir Al Ghāzī.” I said curtly, “Tell the stupid not to interfere with my affairs. Otherwise, even his Ammī wouldn’t be capable to save him.”
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī smiled.
“I’ve already advised the bastard accordingly.*
I looked at her.
“Damn it, Ħāfizah Ashraf, that’s one of you, my beloveds’, daughter you’re talking about. I want her here.”
“One of us, your beloveds’, daughter? I saw how she was looking at you! Not very daughterly, Durgesh.”
“Ħāfizah Ashraf ─”
“NO! You know I wanted you to fuck me out there by the pool, for reason. You just don’t want to share my attention. She’s such a homely dorky little thing anyway.”
I stared at Ħāfizah Ashraf gravely.
“Let me remind you, Ħāfizah Ashraf, you are my friend’s daughter actually, not a cook. You are living here with me only acting as my cook. Your Abbū, my friend, left you here only to help me for cooking until he didn’t find a suitable cook for me. You lied to him that the Musalmān terrorists were seeking you because they thought you are living in relationship with me, erroneously. My friend thought you are safer here with me in that case, than with him. I suspected your intentions ab initio. That’s why when you fucked me while I was sleeping; we have a Close Circuit TV recording of everything what you did with me.”
Ħāfizah Ashraf smiled.
“And you think, my Abbū, never knew what I was after?”
“He knows everything.”
Suraiyā Ibrāhīm made a lot of noise as she came down the last few steps and turned into the kitchen.
I was pouring a juice for me and Ħāfizah Ashraf’s back was turned.
The air vibrated with tension.
I looked up and I was graver.
“Suraiyā Ibrāhīm cat, you look ─” I left my sentence incomplete.
Ħāfizah Ashraf turned to see and her mouth dropped open.
Suraiyā Ibrāhīm thought it was the closest she would ever come to a Cinderella Moment.
I walked over to her taking in every inch of her skin hugging, low cut, sophisticated black dress.
I reached out and fingered the delicate string of pearls.
My knuckles brushed her collarbone and sent goose bumps racing across her skin.
Then I turned and stuck my arm out like a proper gentleman.
“Madame, may I escort you to dinner?”
Suraiyā Ibrāhīm giggled at the unexpected joke and took my arm.
We strolled into the dining room leaving Ħāfizah Ashraf standing in the kitchen with her mouth hanging open.
I pulled her chair out and slid it under her, then seated myself.
Ħāfizah Ashraf stomped in the room with dinner plates.
She slammed down the chicken Caprese in front of Suraiyā Ibrāhīm and me so hard, our silverware rattled.
She left and returned with three glasses and started pouring sweet tea.
“This looks delicious, Ħāfizah Ashraf.” Suraiyā Ibrāhīm said trying to break the remaining tension.
“Oh thank you, dear,” Ħāfizah Ashraf replied with barely hidden sarcasm. “I’m sure you just love LOOKING at things.”
“Ħāfizah Ashraf!” my voice was raised. “Thank you for all your hard work today. Why don’t you take the night off? I think the robot maid can do the cleaning up.”
Ħāfizah Ashraf turned to me, silent, eyes wide.
“Good night, Ħāfizah Ashraf.” my voice was deep and threatening.
Ħāfizah Ashraf stood, unmoving, for a long uncomfortable Moment and then rushed out slamming every door on her way.*
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī enquired again.
“Did Al Muħammad Al Ghāzī let Al Ħanīfah Al Siddīq keep her condo?”
“Al Nādir Al Ghāzī asked you it too?”
“He is very inquisitive.” Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī looked at me gravely.
“I see. Try to squeeze him more why he is so inquisitive? Have any idea?”
“Not until now.”
“Al Muħammad Al Ghāzī gave the condo to Al Ħanīfah Al Siddīq years ago. Moreover, he made Al Ħanīfah Al Siddīq a cash settlement too. A generous cash settlement. She is already living in comfort herself.”
“I see,” Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī digested the information.
It wasn’t easy to get any information from me about my clientele if it weren’t utmost necessary for her to know.
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī was my associate attorney, as well as my live in relationship partner too, yet my clientele’s privacy was still a sacred thing I always guarded carefully.
That was why my clientele have faith in me more than they had in other lawyers, consultants and sex therapists.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī was too inquisitive.
“How much of the estate did Abbū leave me, ma’am, actually?”
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī had regarded him apprehensively.
“As I said the bulk of it. About the three quarters of it went to your sister, Al Taqddus Al Ghāzī.”
“Well, it isn’t any surprise. He never hid he thought Al Taqddus Al Ghāzī Bājī more efficient than I am. We differed only in one matter. Abbū claimed it was her own intelligence and I claimed it was Durgesh that was guiding her.”
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī retorted.
It wasn’t Al Nādir Al Ghāzī alone that attributed the Musalmān women’s intelligence to Durgesh, almost the entire Musalmān mankind did it.
Because it was a fact?
Well, somewhat it was true even, yet not to the extent, they claimed.
The Musalmān womankind herself wasn’t as stupid as they thought.
“How much?” Al Nādir Al Ghāzī asked.
“To Al Taqddus Al Ghāzī?”
“I should estimate─ a worth of over a billion dollars.”
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī sat down.
“Give me the rest of it, please,”
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī couldn’t decide Al Nādir Al Ghāzī was really polite or he was especially polite to her because she was associated with Durgesh.
“What about the newspapers?” Al Nādir Al Ghāzī asked patiently.
“Well, Al Muħammad Al Ghāzī, your Abbū, gave most of the newspapers to your elder sister, Al Taqddus Al Ghāzī. But there are still five left.”
“I’m interested in only one,” said Al Nādir Al Ghāzī patiently, yet with obvious efforts now to keep his patience, “The Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah, Abbū’s flagship paper. The others are not rags. Yet, The Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah, that’s important. I agreed with Abbū that I would let him give his three quarters of estate to Al Taqddus Al Ghāzī Bājī if he gives The Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah to me. He left me that, didn’t he?”
“Ah, yes,” Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī fumbled with the pages of the document, “Yes, I was about to get to that.”*
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī was impatient, but he didn’t want to show his impatience to Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and her entire Seven Movements Musalmān Beauties Brigade was constantly advertising everywhere deliberately that the Musalmān mankind was always impatient not to understand anything ever.
They always acted without trying to understand the entire things their opponents wanted to hide from them ever under their well-guarded secret strategy.
That’s why their brain never developed optimum.
The Musalmān womankind had always to live under their never understanding Musalmān mankind.
It was necessary therefore to use their brain as much as it was possible for them.
That’s why their brain developed more than the brain of their Musalmān mankind.
It was the matter of survival for the Musalmān womankind.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī always tried his best to prove this claim wrong.
He controlled himself.
“What’s there to get to?” Al Nādir Al Ghāzī tried to smile, “It’s my Abbū’s one possession that matters to me utmost. That paper made him famous, until he became inattentive. I grew up on that paper. I know what to do with it. It is mine now, isn’t it?”
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī enjoyed the situation.
Al Muħammad Al Ghāzī knew his son’s inhumane terrorist intentions.
He also knew Al Nādir Al Ghāzī was dying to fulfill them through The Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah.
He wasn’t intelligent enough to understand that it became famous not due to its excellent journalism.
It represented Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s ever infamous Seven Movements instead, clandestinely.
It was advertised orally everywhere by Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and her Seven Movements Brigade.
They always purchased it.
They always advertised it.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī never understood behind every successful newspaper and news channel there was a well-organized political organization represented by it, clandestinely.
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī turned the pages of the will.
“Well, as to that, yes and no,” she said.
She found what she wanted and reread it to herself.
“Concerning The Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah, there is a restrictive clause.”
“I see. What’s that?”
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī was surprised to find Al Nādir Al Ghāzī was still patient.
He still wasn’t impatient even a bit.
It was a miraculous positive change in Al Nādir Al Ghāzī.
Al Muħammad Al Ghāzī has died waiting for it.
Nevertheless, ultimately Al Muħammad Al Ghāzī had succeeded to improve his otherwise rotten son to behave more intelligent for his own success.
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī praised Al Muħammad Al Ghāzī genuinely but not openly.
She doubted Al Nādir Al Ghāzī’s apparent patience heavily.
“Your Abbū bequeathed the newspaper to you but there is a restrictive condition.” Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī said patiently.
“It’s an odd clause.” Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī watched Al Nādir Al Ghāzī carefully, “I remember when he inserted it.”
“Let’s come to the point.”
“You’re to have The Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah, of course. But conditionally, for a trial year. During that year you must at some point exceed the daily circulation of Hindu Lund Musalmān Choot Times. If you can do that just once, the paper is yours permanently. If you fail, the newspaper must perforce be sold to Dr. Saåīdah Qamar of the Hindu Lund Musalmān Choot Times. Dr. Saåīdah Qamar had made your Abbū an offer some months before his death. Yet, of course, that clause is inoperative if…”
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī could not listen to her anymore.
His immediate reaction was,
‘The bastard Hindu Lund Musalmān Choot lover pervert. He always loved to lick Musalmān Cunts and female Musalmān ass, and clean them, after Durgesh fucked them. He was suffering from cancer and he believed it would cure him. Coincidentally he really was cured. The ever superstitious damn fool believed it was due to what he was doing, licking and cleaning the beautiful Musalmān Cunts and Musalmān ass of his beautiful Musalmān houseladies after Durgesh fucked them. Even Durgesh said it was a coincidence only. Yet he never believed Durgesh even. He believed Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan instead that was already running ‘Cuckold Your Musalmān Husband Movement’. He was a pervert bastard that was supported by Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan. He succeeded because his success was beneficial to Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan. He didn’t have any talent whatsoever as it’s claimed everywhere.’
Yet, Al Nādir Al Ghāzī didn’t say it.
Instead, he said.
“Abbū always thought Dr. Saåīdah Qamar more intelligent than me, his own son. I’m glad that at least he gave me my chance. I have to prove myself more intelligent than Abbū’s real younger sister, my aunt, Dr. Saåīdah Qamar Buā? Okay.”*
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar looked at Dr. Ħumayrah Shāhjahān Jahāngīr.
It was more than obvious, Dr. Ħumayrah Shāhjahān Jahāngīr was worried.
“Narendr has promised to do everything he can.” Dr. Ħumayrah Shāhjahān Jahāngīr said.
“I don’t think he can do very much. The Pakistani High Commissioner deliberately did it and I am sure Narendr Modi would never tolerate it.” Dr. Saåīdah Qamar said gravely.
Dr. Ħumayrah Shāhjahān Jahāngīr clenched her fist.
“The separatists once more succeeded in keeping Pakistan separate from mainstream. Nawaz Sharif tried his best, but Imran Khan and Muħammad Tahir ul Qadri found it detrimental to their own political career.”*
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī looked at Al Nādir Al Ghāzī.
“Your Abbū, Al Muħammad Al Ghāzī, was immensely influenced by Dr. Ħumayrah Shāhjahān Jahāngīr. Dr. Ħumayrah Shāhjahān Jahāngīr was actually his friend, philosopher and guide.”
“That was the actual problem the most of the Musalmīn hated my Abbū.” Al Nādir Al Ghāzī said scornfully.
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī smiled sarcastically.
“I don’t think so, Al Nādir Al Ghāzī. Your Abbū was a more respected figure among journalists than you can even imagine.”
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī controlled himself.
Allah, how the hell he forgot Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī was an ardent fan of Dr. Ħumayrah Shāhjahān Jahāngīr and Professor Narendrnāth Sharmā both.
Despite the fact that Dr. Ħumayrah Shāhjahān Jahāngīr and Professor Narendrnāth Sharmā never married they were one of the most successful couples of Global fame.
They had ten sons.
Imam Dr. Aurangzeb Åālamgīr was the eldest of the ten sons Professor Narendrnāth Sharmā and Dr. Ħumayrah Shāhjahān Jahāngīr had.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar was proud of herself that she meticulously succeeded in keeping her live in relationship with me clandestine.
Her shrewd co wives, Dr. Safiyah Nādirshāh Durrānī, Dr. Sādiyah Nādirshāh Durrānī and Dr. Tasnīm Jamāl were themselves not born yesterday.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar was thirty-three now.
Dr. Safiyah Nādirshāh Durrānī was thirty two, Dr. Tasnīm Jamāl was thirty one and Dr. Sādiyah Nādirshāh Durrānī was too around somewhere the same age group.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar had found Dr. Safiyah Nādirshāh Durrānī and Dr. Sādiyah Nādirshāh Durrānī to grab my Uncut Hindu Lund every now and then playfully.
It was really a miracle to her that none of the both had still succeeded in having sex with me formally, despite the long three years that had passed.
It was difficult to decide among them who was more beautiful and cunning.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar was the one actually.
She was sucking me now, giving me an extraordinary blowjob.
“Hey Durgesh, you got an itch there?” Dr. Saåīdah Qamar joked.
“Why? You want to scratch it?” I teased her back.
“Hey, you’re being bad, now.” Dr. Saåīdah Qamar mockingly replied.
“Oh, I think you can handle it,” and I gave Dr. Saåīdah Qamar the big grin, one more in a series of them we’d seemed to share.
“I don’t know, let’s see,” Dr. Saåīdah Qamar said and leaned toward me in my chair holding my hands out and motioning to me.
“Huh?” I wasn’t sure where Dr. Saåīdah Qamar was headed.
“Come here and sit up,” Dr. Saåīdah Qamar instructed, and when I did, Dr. Saåīdah Qamar took my right hand into her hands and turned it so it faced palm forward and fingers up.
I looked at Dr. Saåīdah Qamar.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar was close enough now to smell my musky and distinctive scent.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar held my hand up with her left hand and then she pressed her right hand against mine.
In a low voice, Dr. Saåīdah Qamar looked me in the eyes and slowly said, “Durgesh, I think you’re right. … I think I can handle it.”
There was no mistake what Dr. Saåīdah Qamar meant.
There was no longer a smile on either of our faces, but there was an intensity and closeness ready to explode.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar then surprised me, saying,
“There’s a bathroom in the pool house if you need to use it. I’m gonna get some more beer out of there to take in the house.”
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar looked at me with a grin as Dr. Saåīdah Qamar stood, not saying a word.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar must have been out of her mind, because Dr. Saåīdah Qamar tugged the wrap from my waist and just let it fall to the ground, leaving her little bikini facing me and just inches from my face.
I paused and let me stare.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar then turned and walked up toward the pool house.
What was Dr. Saåīdah Qamar thinking?
From inside, if anyone had been looking, it’d have been like Dr. Saåīdah Qamar was taking it off right there in my face, teasing me and working me up all the more.
And then, when Dr. Saåīdah Qamar walked up toward the pool house, well …for me to just shake her tight Musalmān ass back and forth, knowing good and well I was looking.
It probably would’ve looked even obscene.
Nevertheless, no one was looking.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar got inside the pool house and it was dark, given the late afternoon/ early evening time.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar didn’t turn on a light, and she didn’t hear if I was coming in behind her.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar just made her way to the room in the back that did have some light barely shining through.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar still didn’t hear me coming inside the pool house.
Yet, Dr. Saåīdah Qamar didn’t turn around or pause.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar was confident there was no question I was coming in the house and coming into this bathroom.
I was coming for Dr. Saåīdah Qamar, Dr. Saåīdah Qamar realized.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar looked into the mirror and smiled at my reflection, “you are really, really a bad girl.”
Then Dr. Saåīdah Qamar jumped.
She was startled by seeing me now standing behind Dr. Saåīdah Qamar.
We were looking now at each other in our reflections.
Nothing was said as I moved closer behind Dr. Saåīdah Qamar.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar felt my utmost experienced Hindu hands on her perfectly round, firm, gorgeous, ever glamorous, heavy, big, plump, excellent, exquisite, Panjvaqtah Namāzī, Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān buttocks and then my Hindu male lips on her neck.
My lips kissed gently at her neck as my arms enveloped Dr. Saåīdah Qamar.
My arms held Dr. Saåīdah Qamar close to me and for the first time Dr. Saåīdah Qamar was aware of my unique, legendary, utmost experienced Uncut Hindu Lund pressing her.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar felt the contour of it in her shorts as it snaked down my leg.
I felt very hard.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar raised her hands up over her head to reach behind her for my face and hair, stroking me and letting me have unfettered access to her top.
I reached around, and in one motion, I rubbed under the bikini top and had my hands on her bare Musalmān tits.
They were just a little bigger than my handfuls, but the nipples were large and thick.
They got thicker as I rubbed her beautiful Musalmān tits and pulled on her nipples, making Dr. Saåīdah Qamar hum.
After I had had my way with her beautiful Musalmān tits for a while, I wanted to know the effect I was having on the thirty-three years old, young, extremely beautiful, Dr. Saåīdah Qamar.
I was grateful to her husband that he suspected his entire extremely beautiful young Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān wives were having extramarital affair with me.
It was not so then.
Dr. Safiyah Nādirshāh Durrānī and Dr. Sādiyah Nādirshāh Durrānī were only teasing him grabbing my Uncut Hindu Lund before him, but Dr. Saåīdah Qamar wasn’t doing even that.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar did it when her husband actually deserted them on erroneous suspicions.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar took my right hand in the both of her hands and slowly moved it down her front, never letting it leave her soft Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān skin.
My rugged and calloused hand was a nice contrast to her young soft Musalmān skin, as we both watched what she was doing in the mirror.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar stopped my hand with her right hand, as it cupped her tummy.
I pressed slightly feeling her softness there.
Then, when she was sure I had my eyes looking in the mirror at my hand right above her crotch, Dr. Saåīdah Qamar took my left hand and pulled open her bikini bottom, pulling it down somewhat in the process.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar let me see the blondish-brown curls nestled atop her special little place down there.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar then looked into my eyes in the reflection, as her right hand pushed my right hand on downward until my palm cupped her beautiful mound.
I definitely did press forward then.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar let my head fall back on the nook between her shoulder and neck when Dr. Saåīdah Qamar felt those thick Uncut Hindu Lund wiggle at her Musalmān gash.
I felt her juices soak my Uncut Hindu Lund.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar moaned a low and throaty response as I worked my Uncut Hindu Lund over and around her pussy lips, then plunging it inside her.
“AAAAHHHH…” Dr. Saåīdah Qamar groaned as I plundered her Panjvaqtah Namāzī thirty three years old, young, Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot unrestricted.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar bucked against my Uncut Hindu Lund, and I obliged Dr. Saåīdah Qamar by pushing my Uncut Hindu Lund deeper, using my thumb to graze over her hard clit.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar was as turned on as she had ever been before.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar didn’t care now, if the entire world watched, because this was what Dr. Saåīdah Qamar wanted and what Dr. Saåīdah Qamar needed.
She had to have me.
I sensed this, as Dr. Saåīdah Qamar released her Panjvaqtah Namāzī thirty three years old, young, Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot from my Uncut Hindu Lund, and then pushed her upper torso forward so that her upper body was now lying over the tile counter.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar felt her legs spread her stance apart, shifting her legs. Dr. Saåīdah Qamar let out a little crying sound at the feeling of being totally in my control and bent over to my will.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar looked up into the mirror and I disappeared behind her, descending out-of-view.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar looked straight ahead.
She was close to the mirror and my reflection, wondering what was to come next.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar felt my hands at her smooth pink Musalmān thighs, a gentle lifting motion putting her a little higher onto the counter.
I was basically doing what Dr. Saåīdah Qamar wanted to her, and her body was completely mine to have.
It was then that Dr. Saåīdah Qamar felt my Uncut Hindu Lund nudge between her legs from behind and Dr. Saåīdah Qamar felt my Uncut Hindu Lund touch her ravenous Musalmān clit.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar let out a yelp at the surprise of this.
and then Dr. Saåīdah Qamar felt my Uncut Hindu Lund trace slowly from the front of her Panjvaqtah Namāzī thirty three years old, young, Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot, into and onto the lips of her Panjvaqtah Namāzī thirty three years old, young, Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot and pull back up into her backside.
I rubbed at her Panjvaqtah Namāzī thirty three years old, young, Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot two or three times , dragging my Uncut Hindu Lund through her as she groaned.
I was tasting juices around my Uncut Hindu Lund that were flowing freely.
There was a pause where Dr. Saåīdah Qamar felt nothing for a moment and then Dr. Saåīdah Qamar felt me drag my Uncut Hindu Lund from the back of her Panjvaqtah Namāzī thirty three years old, young, Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot slowly up the crack of her beautiful Musalmān ass.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar had never felt anything like that before and the sheer wantonness of it made her come and come hard, as I ran my Uncut Hindu Lund around her Musalmān asshole and poked at her puckered Musalmān hole.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar was dizzy with the sensations.
I again moved away from Dr. Saåīdah Qamar for a moment.
I stood and Dr. Saåīdah Qamar saw me behind her.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar looked at me in the mirror, and as our eyes met, Dr. Saåīdah Qamar winked mischievously.
I silently nodded.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar took my unique, legendary, utmost experienced Uncut Hindu Lund with her right hand and placed the head of it to her labial lips back there.
My left hand rested on her back, in effect keeping Dr. Saåīdah Qamar pinned.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar liked the sense of not having any control whatsoever, and I knew what was coming.
Her juices flowed.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar traced the unique, legendary, utmost experienced Uncut Hindu Lundhead back and forth, up and down her Panjvaqtah Namāzī thirty-three years old, young, Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot lips spreading her juices around and getting her good and ready.
After some of this teasing, I pushed a couple of inches inside of Dr. Saåīdah Qamar and Dr. Saåīdah Qamar took in a deep breath, gasping loudly.
The thickness of my unique, legendary, utmost experienced Uncut Hindu Lund was something she was enjoying since past three years.
Thank goodness, I always knew what I was doing.
I let Dr. Saåīdah Qamar once more get used to me, only moving again once her opening had relaxed somewhat.
It was while I was gently rocking back and forth inside of Dr. Saåīdah Qamar that she did relax more.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar surprised me when she pushed back against me.
Even so, Dr. Saåīdah Qamar couldn’t get me more than half way inside on that push.
Nevertheless, it was the move I’d waited on.
Because I pulled back after a moment until I was just about out.
We caught each other’s look again in the mirror, and in that instant, I knew what was coming. I wondered if maybe─ just maybe─ she’d finally overdone it.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar thrust her perfectly round, firm, gorgeous, ever glamorous, heavy, big, plump, excellent, exquisite, Panjvaqtah Namāzī, Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān buttocks hard against me and Dr. Saåīdah Qamar cried out.
It was both pain and intense pleasure, as I bore into Dr. Saåīdah Qamar with long powerful Hindu strokes.
I was now fucking Dr. Saåīdah Qamar and fucking Dr. Saåīdah Qamar hard.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar had no control or movement to it, instead I held her on to the counter and I took Dr. Saåīdah Qamar repeatedly.
I was incredibly hard and filled Dr. Saåīdah Qamar up with each downstroke.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar made noises and groaned, and I distinctly remembered the expression “fucking like animals”—this is what it was.
Just primal pounding of Dr. Saåīdah Qamar and me going at it, and nothing but our panting and the sound of flesh hitting flesh filling the room.
None knew how long it continued similarly.
The orgasms and sensations flowed over her.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar thought Dr. Saåīdah Qamar might really pass out. After a while, I was close and I pushed in deeper.
I was close and I held my unique, legendary, utmost experienced Uncut Hindu Lund deepest in her extremely beautiful, extremely enticing, extremely lovely, Panjvaqtah Namāzī, pink, Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot .
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar fell to her knees, facing opposite me.
Her beautiful, extremely enticing, extremely lovely, Panjvaqtah Namāzī, pink, Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān buttocks fitted my nude Hindu lap optimum.
Dr. Saåīdah Qamar looked behind at me.
I looked down at her, and then with my unique, legendary, utmost experienced Uncut Hindu Lund between us I pumped it into her.
My come shot into her Panjvaqtah Namāzī thirty three years old, young, Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot.
After the first few threads, Dr. Saåīdah Qamar closed her labial lips around my unique, legendary, utmost experienced Uncut Hindu Lund, sucking the last drops from my thick head, her extremely beautiful Musalmān eyes locked to mine.
We both were now savoring our intense love for each other.
She never knew she loved and needed me so much.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Durgesh Suraiyā Ibrāhīm
Durgesh Ħāfizah Ashraf
As the bus hissed to stop, Suraiyā Ibrāhīm took in a deep breath and stood up.
She grabbed her large bag crammed under the seat and fell into the line of tired travel weary people exiting.
Her heart was beating scary fast in her chest.
Moving to New Orleans to live with Durgesh had been her idea.
She was a freshman at Loyola and was depending heavily on her scholarships.
Living with Durgesh just made financial sense.
Saving on room and board was just part of it though, Suraiyā Ibrāhīm had never really known me.
Her parents had never been married and had barely tried to make it work for her.
She heard about me what was being told.
At her twenty eight, Suraiyā Ibrāhīm knew very well how they spread lies about Hindus only to keep their Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān womankind away from Hindus.
The entire Pseudo Musalmīn never understood they couldn’t do it in this way.
Their ever irrational schemes always backfired.
The more they wanted it, the more beautiful Musalmān houseladies themselves approached Hindus.
The Brāhmañ and Savarñ houseladies were now fed up of Musalmān houseladies and leaving their Brāhmañ and Savarñ husbands themselves for Durgesh and other Bachhalyās.
She remembered me coming to her birthday parties when she was young and staying with me on the weekends, but when I started having girlfriends there, the same time as Suraiyā Ibrāhīm, her Ammī stopped letting her go over night.
I busied myself with Suraiyā Ibrāhīm’s needy girlfriends more.
It was natural, consequently, she never saw much of me.
Nevertheless, I was faithful with what child support I sent and always mailed her birthday gifts.
She didn’t see me again until her eighteenth birthday which was also the day before she graduated high school.
I showed up, unexpectedly, with a dozen orange tulips.
I was still so handsome, she thought that I just seemed that way to her when she was young.
My hair was a dark grey, the color of a stormy sky and my eyes were the same bright blue as hers.
I had come at her Ammī’s invitation which had surprised Suraiyā Ibrāhīm.
Though her Ammī had never outright talked negatively about me, she would constantly compare me to other “people like that”.
“People like Durgesh only care about themselves. Be careful, Suraiyā Ibrāhīm, they will take advantage of you.”
“Men like Durgesh are only interested in one thing. You must protect your virtue, Suraiyā Ibrāhīm. It is the only thing you have. Trust me if it’s stolen you will never be the same.”
“Durgesh is one of those people who think material possessions can make me happy, but look at us Suraiyā Ibrāhīm we aren’t rich but we have all we need.”
Suraiyā Ibrāhīm found no one agreed with her Ammī on it.
Everyone who knew Durgesh, said her Ammī was exaggerating Durgesh’s multi zillions.
Only because Durgesh was a multi zillionaire it didn’t imply that Durgesh was a materialist.
Instead, on the contrary, her friends and acquaintances said Durgesh was an ardent spiritualist, humanist and realist.
He loved his multi zillions.
Nevertheless, he loved humanity never less than his multi zillions.
“I work two jobs to give you every opportunity I never had. Study and work hard. Boys and friends will come later. You aren’t missing anything anyway.” Her Ammī said.
So, she was surprised to see me standing there with a broad smile on my face.
I stayed the whole week attending both her birthday and graduation functions.
She was so happy to have me there, proud to have an utmost experienced immensely capable friend cheering her on like everyone else.
And that night at a nice dinner I treated everyone to, I pulled her to the side and made the proposition.
She could live with me during the school semester and as long as she kept her grades up and kept her scholarships, I would give her an allowance. She could have the whole one floor upstairs to herself.
I asked her to think about it and discuss it with her Ammī but she had agreed right away.
She’d fought her Ammī all summer and in the end she had given in.
But her platitudes for Suraiyā Ibrāhīm to focus on her studies, protect her mind and body, and not value material over maternal.
Suraiyā Ibrāhīm promised her she wouldn’t change and that she would remain the good and studious girl she had always been.
She packed her clothes and books, shipped them to New Orleans and then a week before her classes started, she hugged and kissed her Ammī goodbye and got on a greyhound bus to New Orleans.
As she shuffled off the bus, she was greeted by an oppressive humidity she had never before experienced.
She held her hand up blinded by the glaring sun and was immediately embraced by an immensely handsome man she hoped was her utmost experienced immensely capable friend.
“Hello, my beautiful girl!” My voice rumbled in my chest.
“Hey, Durgesh.” She smiled up at me as I took her by the shoulders and held her at arm’s length to get a good look at her.
I pulled at her long dark hair braided into pigtails.
“These are cute. I can tell I’m going to have to beat the boys away.” She blushed deeply at the thought of any boy at all.
I grabbed her bag and led her to my shiny black LIMOUSINE.
She sat gingerly inside feeling wholly out of place.
It was the nicest, cleanest car she had ever been inside.
I climbed in next to her and turned on the blissful air conditioning.
I smelled so good.
Suraiyā Ibrāhīm felt weird that she couldn’t stop taking deep breaths of my cologne or whatever made me smell so good.
The rest of the day was a blur.
I drove past all the major tourist places on the way to my house, pointing them out with promises to bring her back and give her a real tour.
We pulled up to my house around dusk.
House was an understatement, Suraiyā Ibrāhīm thought.
It wasn’t quite a mansion or a manor, chateau was the first word that popped in her head.
Large but not imposing, her utmost experienced immensely capable friend’s residence was the epitome of Southern charm, nestled among hydrangeas and crepe myrtle trees with a large lazy front porch and little French balconies peaking around the second story.
She loved it instantly.
Who the hell wouldn’t?
And I didn’t lie about her having the one floor upstairs to herself.
My office and bedroom were downstairs and that left four bedrooms upstairs for her to choose from.
She picked the largest with the view and the adjoining bathroom.
She liked the sturdy, oversized farm style furniture.
I helped her move the boxes of her things in and located her a bookshelf for her books and a large desk.
I said we could go shopping for anything else she needed tomorrow.
I was going to buy her a laptop for her work.
“Well Suraiyā Ibrāhīm cat,” It was a nickname she hadn’t heard in many years. “I’ll leave you to get settled and rest up. Dinner will be at seven. I think Ħāfizah is making some gumbo to welcome you.
I kissed the top of her head and left, leaving my wonderful smell lingering behind.
Suraiyā Ibrāhīm put her few clothes away, organized her books and hung up a few posters and her degree, PhD.
The fading light was a pretty pink through her window.
She already loved it here.
Then she thought of her Ammī, and felt bad because she hadn’t called her yet.
She phoned her Ammī and was interrogated about everything.
She tried to make it sound worse than it was and that seemed to make her Ammī feel better.
Her Ammī scoffed at the thought that I had a cook and sarcastically remarked she was “sure all she did was cook for me”.
Suraiyā Ibrāhīm checked the time and said goodbye to her Ammī.
She took a few minutes in the bathroom to freshen up.
She pulled her hair out of the braids letting her hair fall in a wavy curtain down her back.
She pulled off her jean shorts and tank top and kicked off her sneakers. She took a cool rag and rinsed her body off, pausing for a Moment to admire her flat tummy.
As a child she was quite chubby but she had slowly lost the baby fat from her midriff.
Her boobs were still too large and her butt too big but the flat belly, she was proud of.
She slid on a pretty yellow sundress and some sandals and came down the stairs.
After some searching she found the kitchen… and Ħāfizah.
Ħāfizah was a young and curvy redhead with pale freckly skin and a wide, mischievous grin.
She talked in an indecipherable drawl and winked a lot.
Suraiyā Ibrāhīm liked her but felt like Ħāfizah kept looking her up and down.
Her utmost experienced immensely capable friend told Suraiyā Ibrāhīm that Ħāfizah usually came in in the late morning and cleaned, took care of errands like dry cleaning and usually had supper on the table by seven.
“I usually stay and eat with Durgesh, ya know keep me company,” She interjected with her wide smile.
Her utmost experienced immensely capable friend’s ears turned a bit pink and I gave her an odd look.
Suraiyā Ibrāhīm, assuming it was because she had called me Durgesh instead of Master or whatever servants were supposed to call their employers, looked down into her gumbo ignoring them.
The food was delicious, full of texture and spice, but the setting was so formal and awkward compared to home.
Suraiyā Ibrāhīm and her Ammī would usually just curl up on the couch eating something from a can and watching the game Show network.
As soon as she was done and had sufficiently complimented the cook, she excused herself explaining how tired she was her long day.
Her utmost experienced immensely capable friend stood and kissed her forehead and Ħāfizah nodded goodnight.
Suraiyā Ibrāhīm walked slowly upstairs.
She really was tired.
She peeled her dress and bra off, leaving them in a heap on the floor and kicked her sandals in the corner.
Then she pulled her favorite old sleep shirt out of her bad and over her head.
It smelled like home.
Then she sunk into her new bed and fell instantly to sleep.
Sometime later, she drifted up out of strange dreams to hear a weird keening noise.
It sounded like crying outside her window.
Confused, she rubbed her eyes and looked at the clock next to the bed.
It was 2 am.
She stood up, reacquainting herself with her new room and stumbled to her bedroom windows which turned out to be French doors that swung open onto a little balcony looking into the hedged in backyard.
It took her a long time to process what she was looking at.
There was her utmost experienced immensely capable friend stretched out on a lounge chair by the pool facing away from her window and there was Ħāfizah Ashraf sitting across my lap.
Neither of us were dressed.
Our naked bodies were glowing in the moonlight.
Ħāfizah Ashraf’s smooth thighs were spread on either side of her utmost experienced immensely capable friend and her head was thrown back making her large pale breasts jut forward.
She had large pink nipples which her utmost experienced immensely capable friend took between my thumb and forefinger in turn.
She was bouncing up and down and making the noises that had woken Suraiyā Ibrāhīm up.
Suraiyā Ibrāhīm stood frozen in the humid night air with moths and lightening bugs flitting around.
She couldn’t stop watching.
Her utmost experienced immensely capable friend’s hands dug into the soft flesh of Ħāfizah Ashraf’s glorious, glamorous, perfectly round, firm Musalmān buttocks and pushed her faster up and down.
Through the like red patch between her legs, Suraiyā Ibrāhīm’s utmost experienced immensely capable friend’s Uncut Hindu Lund slid forcefully in and out.
Suraiyā Ibrāhīm knew what we were doing but she had never seen it herself and the play before her was embedded on her brain.
She felt a full body blush engulf her and goose bumps cover her skin.
Suddenly, Ħāfizah Ashraf looked up right at Suraiyā Ibrāhīm.
They made eyes contact and Ħāfizah Ashraf’s face spread into her wide mischievous smile.
Suraiyā Ibrāhīm stepped back startled but Ħāfizah Ashraf let out a shriek that froze Suraiyā Ibrāhīm where she was.
“Ohhh FUCK!” Ħāfizah Ashraf moaned and started moving faster, frantically.
Then her utmost experienced immensely capable friend wrapped my long arms around her and held her down matching her moans.
At the sound of her utmost experienced immensely capable friend’s deep voice groaning, Suraiyā Ibrāhīm turned and ran back inside closing the door quietly.
She jumped back in her bed and pulled the covers over her like a scared child.
She lay there for a long time, her heart pounding and her skin on fire.
She had no reference for what Ħāfizah Ashraf and I were doing out there.
She knew it was sex but her only frame of reference was for making babies, something to be done as a chore.
But the naked writing couple on the pool lounge looked as exotic and unnatural to her as if two aliens had landed.
We looked happy and pleased and a whole other set of emotions Suraiyā Ibrāhīm couldn’t even describe.
Her brain worked over all she had seen until her overworked mind drifted uneasily to sleep.
The next morning, in the shower, Suraiyā Ibrāhīm decided not to mention what she had seen.
She knew Ħāfizah Ashraf saw her but hoped she just wouldn’t bring it up. She dressed in jean shorts and a white gauzy tank top her Ammī had owned in the 80’s, hoping to battle oppressive Louisiana heat.
She slid on her sandals and came downstairs.
I was sipping coffee and we ate bagels together making Our plans for shopping.
And shopping we did.
I took her to clothing stores where friendly girls gave her piles of things to choose from.
We went to shoe stores to add sneakers and classic heals to her modest flip flop collection.
We stopped awkwardly at the lingerie store to add to her two bra collection.
We went to an electronic store and purchased a laptop and smartphone, and finally she drug me in an old book store where I browsed business magazines and she raided the historical and science fiction sections.
On the drive home, bags and boxes stacked high in the back.
I reached out, took her hand and entwined my fingers in hers.
“I’m really glad you decided to come live with me, Suraiyā Ibrāhīm. It makes me feel less like alone now that I will have the opportunity to know you as an adult even if I didn’t see you much as a child. And I’m…” I paused looking a little embarrassed as all these feelings. “I’m just so proud of the woman you’ve become. You’re smart and motivated and grateful and, Eīshān, you’re gorgeous! I just can’t believe you’re mine.”
Suraiyā Ibrāhīm looked down into her lap.
“Um…well thank you? But I think that might all be a bit exaggerated, especially the gorgeous part.”
“Oh no, that was the least exaggerated part. I mean…don’t think I’m still a playboy at my sixty five, but watching you try on all those clothes, the dresses and skirts and heels, and don’t mention just looking at your feet in the dressing room trying on bras, I mean I had to keep reminding myself you were my beloved’s daughter.”
She laughed awkwardly and squeezed my hand as she turned to look out the window to cover her blush.
She was remembering Ħāfizah Ashraf’s body gyrating on me and my hands roaming her naked beautiful Musalmān flesh.
She couldn’t stop thinking of it.
We got home and hauled all her things up to her room.
I worked on connecting her laptop as she hung her clothes and slid her books on the shelf.
“Alright, Suraiyā Ibrāhīm cat, you are connected to the Wi-Fi. So surf till your heart’s content. I’m going to check on supper.” I went to walk out of her room. “Uh, Suraiyā Ibrāhīm?”
“Wear something new down to dinner. I want to see you in it.”
My eyes met hers with so much meaning she couldn’t look away.
The look went on and on and then, as if forcing myself to break it, I turned and closed her door behind me.
She sat down at her desk on her first personal computer.
She opened it and looked around, set up her first email Suraiyā Ibrāhīmcat2001 on yahoo, looked up some info on her college, and then, before she knew what had possessed her she had pulled up Google and typed in “what is sex like?” She clicked the first link which was a Yahoo Answers page and began reading through hundreds of descriptions of how wonderful, satisfying and pleasurable sex could be.
People seemed to enjoy it and do it for more than just babies.
She saw words she had never heard before like cum, orgasm, masturbation, blowjob, ardent Musalmān Choot, and Uncut Hindu Lund.
Suraiyā Ibrāhīm was proud of herself being an ardent Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān girl when she learned that Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan claimed the Musalmān womankind is the everfirst womankind that was planned by Allah, Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā, God.
Allah, Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā, God made the womankind the creator in human beings.
He made mankind the administrator only, not creator.
Even the ever rough and tough mankind wasn’t given the power to create new human beings.
The capability to be a mother needed something more than only being rough and tough as the mankind was.
Suraiyā Ibrāhīm loved Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s views on womankind, especially on Musalmān womankind.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan claimed there were no other woman except Musalmān women for infinite Kalps, eras.
Even the Brāhmañ women were created after infinite Kalps, eras, when the Vyom came into existence.
Not before it.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan immediately became Suraiyā Ibrāhīm’s ideal.
She look each of these words up to understand more.
It was when she got to masturbation that she found a video link that she followed.
She saw a young blonde Musalmān girl spread naked on a bed, she was pulling her ardent Musalmān Choot lips open and touching places inside.
She made noises similar to the ones Ħāfizah Ashraf made the night before and Suraiyā Ibrāhīm could see the wetness shining on the Musalmān girl’s fingers.
The Musalmān girl slid her fingers in and out of herself and rubbed what Suraiyā Ibrāhīm had just learned was her clit.
She went faster and faster and her noises got louder and louder until she gasped and her whole body tightened.
Suraiyā Ibrāhīm could see her ardent Musalmān Choot contracting in spasm and more wetness dribble out.
The Musalmān girl just lay on the bed breathing hard and then she started giggling.
Suraiyā Ibrāhīm was transfixed, she couldn’t look away.
“Suraiyā Ibrāhīm!!” I called from downstairs causing her to jerk and slam the laptop. “Supper in five minutes!”
She called back hoarsely.
Her heart galloped in her chest as she stood and rushed to the bathroom, thoughts of the moaning Musalmān girl filling her thoughts.
She pulled her clothes off and took a long, lingering look at her body.
She touched each of her pointed nipples, puffed and pink, then slid her hand down between her legs where she felt her own slippery wetness.
She met her own eyes in the mirror, shocked.
Embarrassed, she turned the shower on and rinsed herself thoroughly between her legs.
Then got out and pulled on her new panties and bra set, simple and black, but the bikini cut of the panties made her feel adult and somehow sexy.
She pulled on her new black dress and matching heels.
She slid on the pearls I insisted on buying her.
The cost of them made her nervous, but she reasoned that we were staying in so we couldn’t possible go missing.
She came downstairs only to hear Ħāfizah Ashraf, the cook, and me, talking in furious hissing whispers.
“You don’t know she saw anything Ħāfizah Ashraf. Honestly, you’re being ridiculous.”
“I saw her watching, Durgesh. Clear as anything. I told you having her move in with you was going to be a pain.”
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam