Durgesh Ħamīdah Al Qāzī
The Kiss Everfirst
It was dark and cool.
Ħamīdah Al Qāzī slowly began to realize she was nude.
It took a few moments longer before sI grew further aware of her complete and utter helplessness.
As her heart leapt she realized both arms were outstretched horizontally, wrists and upper arms tightly tied to the frame of a headboard; her headboard.
She tried crying out but no words came, and then felt a gag in her mouth.
When she tried fighting against the bindings with her arms, Ħamīdah Al Qāzī quickly learned the c loth bindings had no give.
That was when her mind next discovered her upper legs, which were bent at tI knees and pointing vertically, were also tied.
The ropes gripped the bottom of her knees and pinned them up while also keeping them simultaneously spread.
“Oh no!” her brain silently screamed as she began to understand tI gravity of her situation. “Who is doing this to me? And why?”
The room was dark and little light spilled in from outside.
As she looked around her eyes adjusted and began to see slight hints of a dresser, a mirror above it, and personal effects resting on top.
This was her own bedroom, Ħamīdah Al Qāzī could tell, but why she was being held as a captive in her own home?
There was music playing beyond the door, and she began hearing muffled voices.
It almost sounded like a… like a… a party.
Yes, a party!
Her younger brother’s eighteenth birthday party!
She remembered now, her younger brother’d asked if I could have a few friends over to her apartment since their parents forbade any drinking in their home.
But why was she bound like this, nude, to her own bed? And why could she not remember?
As her mind continued to race, frantically searching for a way out of her precarious position, several minutes elapsed.
And then she heard a metallic clicking sound and watched in a mixture of fear and relief as the door swung fully open and three figures stepped inside.
By the small amount of light that spilled in from the hallway she recognized her Hindu Lover, Durgesh, her younger brother Ħamīd Al Qāzī and his best friend, Jalīs Al Ůsmān, all of them University seniors and eighteen years old, except Durgesh, sixty two years old.
Ambient light partially illuminated her nude glorious form.
Ħamīdah Al Qāzī succeeded only in giving us a good show as her efforts jiggled her firm, perky Musalmān boobs and accomplished little else.
Her extremely beautiful young Musalmān face, framed by shoulder-length auburn hair, reddened in a combination of intense embarrassment and humiliation as all three persons smiled at her, evidently enjoying what they were seeing.
“Dude, your sister is hot!” Jalīs Al Ůsmān, with shoulder-length red hair, exclaimed.
“You are one twisted fuck,” I, commented with a sophisticated smile. “Tying your own sister up like that after she was nice enough to buy your friends the beer? That seems wrong, man.”
“You’re assuming I did this against her will, but she wanted me to,” Ħamīd Al Qāzī announced as I switched on the overhead light.
Ħamīdah Al Qāzī snapped her eyes closed and looked down to avoid the bright light that suddenly lit up the bedroom.
As she did her brother crossed the room and sat down on her right side.
As she felt the mattress depressing her eyes tentatively opened and she looked over at his smiling face.
“Don’t make any noise and I can take tI gag out of your mouth,” I told her in a cautious tone. “But if you scream it goes back in. Do you understand?”
Ħamīdah Al Qāzī nodded her understanding and breathed a sigh of relief after he pulled what she realized was a pair of her own panties from her mouth.
He pressed a can of beer to her red crimson quivering Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān lips and allowed her to take several sips to moisten her red crimson quivering Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān lips before I requested me kissing her.
It was weird kissing a Hindu sixty two years old while she was twenty eight only.
Initially she recoiled away from me but my left hand reached around the back of her head and held it steady when I pressed my Hindu lips against hers a second time.
Ħamīdah Al Qāzī’s mouth reluctantly opened, feeling the wet warmth of my Hindu tongue as it pushed inside.
It should have disgusted her, but at some level kissing Durgesh was more arousing than kissing any other man.
Her nipples immediately flared and hardened, the enlarged tips anxiously throbbing.
TI kiss turned passionate and she began kissing me back.
Our silky tongues were eagerly entwining in hungry explorations of one another’s mouths.
“Dude, that’s wrong,” the red-haired Jalīs Al Ůsmān announced in shocked surprise after witnessing the intense tongue-kissing between a Hindu man and their Musalmān sister. “She’s our Musalmān sister!”
Without looking back Ħamīd Al Qāzī responded,
“The only thing that’s wrong would be to let a twenty eight year-old chick this hot not be enjoyed, even if she is my sister. Hell, if she was your sister you’d be all over it too. You’re just jealous, Jalīs Al Ůsmān. You want Durgesh must kiss you instead.”
Jalīs Al Ůsmān shrugged her shoulders as my eyes lowered to her bare breasts.
“Yessssssssss!” Jalīs Al Ůsmān winked at him, “Now I think you are yourself jealous of Durgesh.”
“Nonsense,” Ħamīd Al Qāzī retorted, “go ahead and fuck Durgesh yourself.”
Jalīs Al Ůsmān laughed,
“Don’t think ever I won’t.”
Jalīs Al Ůsmān boldly unzipped me, brought my Uncut Hindu Lund out and instead of playing with it, she took it in her beautiful mouth and started sucking me passionately.
Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā, what a grand ashvinātam blowjob Jalīs Al Ůsmān was giving me.
Jalīs Al Ůsmān was really a blowjob girl I decided.
Ħamīdah Al Qāzī’s face grew hot with shame and humiliation as she felt all of our eyes staring at the perky swells, swollen tips visibly pulsating with every rapid beat of her heart.
“Look at how hard these nipples are,” Ħamīd Al Qāzī commented out loud as I moved the beer to his left hand and I grasped her right nipple between the thumb and index finger of my right hand.
“It’s as hard as a diamond, and every bit as beautiful.” I smiled at Ħamīd Al Qāzī, “And your girlfriend is also serving my Uncut Hindu Lund very adroitly I must say. Thank you, Ħamīd Al Qāzī.”
“Nonsense, I must thank you. Enjoy my sister and my girlfriend both.”
I winked at him.
Ħamīd Al Qāzī also winked at me shamelessly, rather boldly.
Ħamīdah Al Qāzī’s eyes closed and she softly moaned as I playfully pinched and twisted on the enlarged nipple.
My fingers then lightly began caressing the rest of the firm boob, gently feeling it up all over.
“Her tits feel real nice,” I told my friends. “I wonder what her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot feels like.”
Ħamīdah Al Qāzī hated feeling so helpless and exposed.
The bright overhead light made every inch of her succulent Musalmān body visible to the trio, and the intense embarrassment and humiliation continued bothering her.
To have us watching me playing with her bare boobs was humiliating enough, but to have us watching me touching her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot?
“Durgesh …” she quietly whimpered, just loud enough for me to hear. “Durgesh, please… the light, at least turn the light off, please…”
I looked up with a wide smile on my face and a look in my eyes that she hadn’t seen before and sent a chill racing through her exquisite excellent Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān body . “I don’t think so, Ħamīdah Al Qāzī. That would spoil the fun.”
My right hand slowly traced a path downward over her flat belly and briefly teasing her belly button before sliding between her quivering thighs.
Ħamīdah Al Qāzī’s red face grew hot in humiliation as she felt my utmost experienced Hindu fingers sifting through the short curls of silky Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān pubic hair that fringed the pink Wahābī Musalmān slit.
Two fingers pushed the Panjvaqtah Namāzī Wahābī Musalmān labia apart, exposing the pink flesh within.
She’d started getting excited and the bright pink flesh glistened in the light.
Her muscles tightened and body stiffened as I rubbed her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Wahābī Musalmān clit for several moments, stirring her glorious Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Musalmān loins with my ever increasing Hindu passion.
The fingers then slid down and two of them worked their way inside her little opening.
Ħamīdah Al Qāzī felt the heat of embarrassed humiliation in her extremely beautiful young Musalmān face as I fingered her exquisite excellent young glorious Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Musalmān Choot as my two friends watched.
Ħamīdah Al Qāzī once more began writhing as much as she could while resisting against the bindings in vain.
“Come on over here,” I called out for my friends. “You’re not afraid of touching a girl, are you? A naked and helpless girl, at that. Come on over and have some fun watching Ħamīd Al Qāzī’s sister, Ħamīdah Al Qāzī, being fucked by me. That’s what you wanted to see. Didn’t you? She’s a real good kisser. I’ll bet she fucks real good too… don’t you, Ħamīdah Al Qāzī?”
“Stop doing this to me,” she complained, even as her shuddering body oozed with sexual arousal.
Lips suddenly met hers, a hand pulling her mouth tightly against my Hindu lips. My Hindu tongue pushed deeply into her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān mouth, entwining with hers in a passion-filled embrace.
She felt other lips and a tongue on her left breast, licking on the smooth skin as fingers gently squeezed on the perky swell.
She softly moaned as one touched the nipple, causing her exquisite excellent Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān body to stiffen and shudder.
A hand slid between her shamelessly parted thighs and fingered her helpless exquisite excellent young glorious Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Musalmān Choot.
Several pushed into the juicy-slick canyon and rubbed on the still-hard Panjvaqtah Namāzī Wahābī Musalmān clit.
As ashamed and embarrassed as she felt, Ħamīdah Al Qāzī could not deny the unparalleled intensity of the moment.
Her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān buttocks started pumping as much as they could as the finger quickly stoked the flames of arousal that were building in her lower belly.
After a few moments the fingers on her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Wahābī Musalmān clit shifted down, smearing her warm nectar along the length of the silky smooth slit before working into the tight opening.
She felt two fingers pushing into the canal and they began sliding in and out.
Her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān buttocks and pelvis frantically thrust against the juice-slick digits.
“Yeah, that’s right, get her all worked up, because she’s getting this next,” they all heard me
making the announcement.
The lips on her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān mouth pulled away, and when they did Ħamīdah Al Qāzī glanced to her left where I was standing.
I was naked and Jalīs Al Ůsmān was passionately sucking my erect Uncut Hindu Lund.
It was impressive and she felt a mixture of fear and excitement as her eyes were riveted to the sight of my large, stiff Uncut Hindu Lund.
There was no doubt in her mind what her brother was planning on doing with it, either.
She was getting wet.
Ħamīdah Al Qāzī could feel her flowing nectar and could hear the squishing sound as the two fingers penetrated into her canal.
But it was quickly gone, replaced by excitement as her own younger brother’s wet tongue swirled around the straining peak.
Ħamīdah Al Qāzī couldn’t believe how good it felt to have two guys touching her at the same time.
Hands seemed to be everywhere… between her legs, squeezing on her boobs… and their mouths felt so good as they explored both of her aching breasts.
She cared less about the light the hotter her exquisite excellent Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān body became.
Soon her focus was on the tingling heat deep in her glorious Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Musalmān loins and the promise of a building orgasm.
“Okay, that’s good,” I told my two buddies as I gently pushed them away. “I think she’s ready for this now. Aren’t you, Ħamīdah Al Qāzī?”
The two others fell silent as they realized what their friend was about to do with Ħamīdah Al Qāzī.
She could see the shocked expressions on their face, mixed with disbelief.
They looked at one another several times before looking back at her.
Ħamīdah Al Qāzī felt her flushed face getting hot again as the feelings of embarrassment and humiliation returned.
“Tell Jalīs Al Ůsmān and Ħamīd Al Qāzī how badly you want my Uncut Hindu Lund fucking your juicy exquisite excellent young glorious Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Musalmān Choot,” I smiled at her.
She looked over at the pair and tried to speak but seemed unable to form the words as the intense shame she felt prevented her from speaking such humiliating words.
“No, sorry Durgesh, I… can’t say that.”
“Tell them!” I admonished her, smiling at her. “Tell them or we’ll leave and keep you tied up like that all night. Which is it?”
Ħamīdah Al Qāzī knew it was true.
She did want my Uncut Hindu Lund inside her.
But why was it so important for me to hear her say such a humiliating thing? Why did my friends need to know the secret truth?
She was so hot, her exquisite excellent Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān body was aching for my Uncut Hindu Lund, but she couldn’t…
“Say it!” I smiled once again, sweeter than before, yet scaring her with its sweet intensity.
“I want Durgesh’s hard Uncut Hindu Lund fucking my hot exquisite excellent young glorious Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Musalmān Choot!” she cried out quickly, surprised to hear her own voice making such a shameful confession of her deepest, darkest secret.
With her humiliation complete her exquisite excellent Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān body went limp and tears of shame ran down both reddened cheeks.
I couldn’t help it.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan wanted it.
And Ħamīd Al Qāzī was Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s obedient slave now.
He could betray his own Bājī, but not Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan Bājī ever.
Her own Bājī, Ħamīdah Al Qāzī, could forgive him, but not Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan Bājī.
Ħamīd Al Qāzī knew it very well.
I gloated over Ħamīd Al Qāzī’s helpless sister before kneeling on the bed and moving between her legs.
“Jalīs Al Ůsmān, you sit right there,” I directed, pointing at the left side of the mattress. “Ħamīd Al Qāzī, you come over here on this side. I want you both to watch me nailing your elder sister for the first time.”
“Durgesh no, please don’t,” Ħamīdah Al Qāzī pleaded with me, knowing it would do no good but needing to hear herself saying it. “Don’t let them see us doing this.”
Ħamīdah Al Qāzī’s mind raced; as shameful and humiliating as it was, could it be possible that a part of her wanted my friends to see?
That couldn’t possibly be true… or could it?
She was more aroused than ever before by the thought of being fucked by me as her own younger brother and his friends looked on.
What kind of a person did that make her?
It was as if she had no voice, for her own brother refused to hear it.
As her mind reeled a brief vision appeared, one where she remembered telling her brother how to tie her arms to the bed.
Was it possible that she wanted this to happen, had even planned for this to happen?
She looked down and could see my large, stiff Uncut Hindu Lund.
The elongated eye was stretched open and glistened with a hint of wetness as the full length visibly pulsated with excitement.
The void in her exquisite excellent Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān body ached to be filled by me.
Her voice softly gasped as she felt my fingers peeling the moist outer folds apart, revealing the bright pink slit that was shimmering from the seeping nectar her exquisite excellent Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān body was producing in response to the intimate arousal.
Ħamīdah Al Qāzī moaned and shuddered while watching it sliding up and down with slow, patient Hindu strokes.
Each time it moved over the tiny bump of her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Wahābī Musalmān clitoris she stiffened and cried out in intense immense ashvinātam pleasure.
Not satisfied with being an observer, Jalīs Al Ůsmān reached an arm out and lightly stroked her left breast and nipple.
Noticing that his friend’s actions seemed to be welcomed, Ħamīd Al Qāzī himself began playing with Ħamīdah Al Qāzī’s right breast and swollen peak.
Having her helpless body touched by all three of us added to her growing arousal.
Her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān buttocks began writhing as she watched My Uncut Hindu Lund pushing up and down, stirring her exquisite excellent Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān body with passion.
As I knelt between her forcibly parted legs her brother lifted her exquisite excellent Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān body up level with my glistening wet Uncut Hindu Lund.
Ħamīdah Al Qāzī herself helped as much as she could, flexing her pinned arms as she lifted a portion of her slight weight.
I pushed forward; wiggling my hips which in turn vibrated my hard stem, working the head between the slick labia and into the canyon nestled within.
A moment later I felt my Uncut Hindu Lund resting at the tiny opening.
Our eyes briefly met in a deep gaze, both communicating the forbidden desire we felt for one another.
Hers were emerald green, my dark brown, and both were sparkling with passion.
This was the moment we’d been secretly waiting for.
Her exquisite excellent Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān body twitched as she was awakened by the loud buzzing of an alarm clock. As the fog in her confused mind began to dissipate she felt the mattress shake as Walt got up and blindly groped for the clock, gratefully squelching the aggravating noise.
“Morning,” I whimpered in a sleepy voice before entering the adjacent master bathroom and closing the door behind me before turning on the light.
Ħamīdah Al Qāzī’s eyes opened briefly, noting the bright glow sneaking out from under the bottom of the closed door, before once more closing.
Her thoughts remained on the erotic scene as she desperately wanted to return to sleep once more and continue the dream for the remaining half-hour before her alarm would sound, but luck was not with her on this occasion.
“Damn it!” she exclaimed in frustration before widening her thighs, right hand reaching down into the deep V which began fingering her aroused her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot .
“Please don’t do this to me!”
Yet even as a middle finger pushed between the outer folds and began rubbing on her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Wahābī Musalmān clit, the erotic sensations began to fade.
In a bid to re-energize her excitement the finger pressed harder and faster, but the stimulation could not resurrect the intense sensations that had at one time filled her glorious Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Musalmān loins with powerful desire. After a minute or two Ħamīdah Al Qāzī gave up
“Are you okay?” Suraiyā Muħammad Ħusayn asked as she passed by Ħamīdah Al Qāzī’s cubicle at work and noticed her friend appeared to be distraught.
Ħamīdah Al Qāzī looked up with a blank expression on her extremely beautiful young Musalmān face. “Just tired, I guess.”
Suraiyā Muħammad Ħusayn wasn’t going to be so easily dismissed.
She entered uninvited and sat down on a chair adjacent to Ħamīdah Al Qāzī’s cluttered desk.
“Are you sure that’s all there is to it? What aren’t you telling me?”
Ħamīdah Al Qāzī’s shoulders sagged as she sat back, eyes looking down as if her mind was deep in thought for several moments.
Suraiyā Muħammad Ħusayn remained patient as she waited for Ħamīdah Al Qāzī to sort through her emotions.
After a few seconds she looked up at Suraiyā Muħammad Ħusayn.
“Does Durgesh rock your boat?”
Suraiyā Muħammad Ħusayn smiled.
“Is this about sex? Because you know how I love talking about sex!”
“That’s part of it,” Ħamīdah Al Qāzī admitted. “Durgesh is great in a lot of ways, but…”
“Every couple goes through what you’re going through,” Suraiyā Muħammad Ħusayn assured her friend. “You don’t have to be married for things to slow down. Just look at all the self-help books and magazine articles they write about the subject. It’s completely normal.”
Ħamīdah Al Qāzī remained frustrated.
“It may be normal, but that doesn’t make it any easier. I keep having this dream where I’m having sex with… with Durgesh,” she quickly covered her tracks, leaving out the part about her brother.
“Durgesh, huh? Sounds hot,” Suraiyā Muħammad Ħusayn remarked with a wink. “I think I like where this is heading.”
Ħamīdah Al Qāzī glanced away as her extremely beautiful young Musalmān face reddened in embarrassment. “Suraiyā Muħammad Ħusayn, please don’t do this, I’m being serious!”
“Relax, I was just kidding,” her friend responded with a quiet laugh. “Okay, you’re serious so I’ll try and act serious too.”
Ħamīdah Al Qāzī watched Suraiyā Muħammad Ħusayn erased the smirk from her extremely beautiful young Musalmān face and tried to appear serious.
It was a valiant effort but that just made Ħamīdah Al Qāzī giggle, which then caused Suraiyā Muħammad Ħusayn to join in.
The two colleagues briefly laughed until they got it out of their system.
Frustrated, Ħamīdah Al Qāzī announced,
“No, don’t be like that,” Suraiyā Muħammad Ħusayn encouraged her co-worker. “So you’re having dreams about being with two men. I’m thinking that’s probably quite common. How does the dream start?”
Ħamīdah Al Qāzī considered the best way to tell her without revealing the part about her brother being involved.
“I wake up and it’s dark, and at first I’m not sure where I am or why I’m tied to a bed. Then I slowly grow aware that it’s my bedroom. Then the door opens up and a couple of guys walk in and start doing things to me, sexual things.”
“Do you know them?” Suraiyā Muħammad Ħusayn inquired.
“They’re friends of my brother, I just know what they look like, not anything more,” she revealed. “Every time I have this dream I wake up all wet and horny, and it’s been going on for several months now. I can’t seem to get it out of my head.”
Suraiyā Muħammad Ħusayn patted her right arm sympathetically.
“Well, from my personal experience waking up wet and horny isn’t all that bad, especially when you have someone lying beside you with the equipment that can help a horny girl out. Take advantage of your man, girl! Who knows, I might like it too.”
Ħamīdah Al Qāzī wrinkled her nose.
“You’re not much help.”
Several seconds elapsed as Suraiyā Muħammad Ħusayn was in deep thought.
“Something triggered the dream,” Suraiyā Muħammad Ħusayn finally suggested, remembering having a similar experience several years ago caused by a traffic accident. “Find out what that something is, and I’d be willing to bet the dreams will stop… if that’s what you want them to do. Otherwise enjoy them while they last, I know I sure would.”
Ħamīdah Al Qāzī rolled her Panjvaqtah Namāzī extremely beautiful Musalmān eyes.
“Thanks… I think.”
“Always happy to help out,” Suraiyā Muħammad Ħusayn assured her friend before getting up and resuming her trip to the printer room.
Alone once again, she pondered Suraiyā Muħammad Ħusayn’s advice and whimpered to herself,
“Something triggered the dream, huh? SI may be on to something after all.”
Ħamīdah Al Qāzī reached up on an overhead bookshelf and retrieved a framed family picture.
It was several years old but the family hadn’t changed all that much.
Now thirty, Kr’shñ Dév Narottam was the oldest; although single in the picture, he’d married a year earlier and moved away to pursue a professional career opportunity.
Vikram Nārāyañ Bachhalyā was next, who was twenty-nine and in his last year of college.
She was twenty eight, and then there was the baby of the family, Ħamīd Al Qāzī, who was now eighteen.
It slowly dawned on her that there was a party going on in the background of the dream.
It was the night of his eighteenth birthday party in her recurring fantasy.
But dreaming of doing sexual things with her Hindu Lover, Durgesh, made absolutely no sense!
Well, she loved Durgesh secretly it was the truth.
Ħamīd Al Qāzī always teased her that she was so beautiful that even Durgesh would fall for her.
Was it the base of her dreams?
They’d never been anything more than brother and sister, and their personal lives rarely overlapped.
The only reason she knew who his friends were was because she saw them at the house quite frequently, but she didn’t even know their names.
“Durgesh and Jalīs Al Ůsmān,” she whimpered aloud as the names from the dream rolled off her tongue without any effort at all. “That’s what Ħamīd Al Qāzī calls them in my dream. But that can’t be their real names, or could they be?”
Her gaze lingered on the photograph, focusing on me.
She had to admit that even at my sixty two I was quite a bit cuter than the others.
If she was going to have a crush on any of them, Durgesh would have been her choice.
But she would never knowingly choose to have a crush on any of them, how could she?
They were her family for goodness sake!
Yet her mind returned to the dream, to the intense emotions of embarrassment and humiliation as she was helplessly tied to the headboard with her exquisite excellent Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān body exposed to Durgesh’s, her brother’s and his friends’ glaring stares.
She couldn’t figure out why she wanted to experience those sensations, yet she sensed that she did.
In the dream she remembered telling her brother how she wanted to be tied up, so a part of her wanted to feel those things.
But it was just a dream!
People dream all kinds of crazy stuff, but it didn’t mean that they wanted to do those things in real life.
Mostly dreams were surreal, where people did things they would never do in reality.
Yet remembering them staring at her was making her all warm and tingly down below, the way they touched her bare boobs…
Ħamīdah Al Qāzī quickly realized she wasn’t doing herself any favors when she looked down and saw both hardened nipples straining against her thin pink blouse.
The short black skirt she had on left much of her legs exposed, and she realized that she’d been subconsciously squeezing her thighs together, placing pressure on her aroused Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot .
“Damn it!” she quietly scolded herself as she placed the picture down and pushed the thoughts of her Hindu Lover, Durgesh, from her confused mind.***
As hard as she tried pushing my thoughts aside, my image kept reappearing in the back of her mind.
The mystery behind the recurring dream had Ħamīdah Al Qāzī so preoccupied that it prevented a return to a normal life.
She reluctantly came to the realization that sI must confront the trigger that caused them; as best she could determine, Durgesh himself was the clue to the trigger.
Instead of returning to her apartment after work, Ħamīdah Al Qāzī instead drove to her parent’s home.
She called My cell phone and left a message indicating the planned detour so I wouldn’t be concerned by her absence when I got off work.
There were leftovers in the refrigerator I could help myself to, and food at the moment was the last thing she was worried about.
When she reached the front door Ħamīdah Al Qāzī’s right hand automatically reached for the front door before stopping.
The home of her parents was no longer hers, and they had every right to an expectation of privacy, especially as she hadn’t called first.
So she instead rang the bell.
A few moments later the door opened.
Her mother’s face brightened with a wide smile.
“Hi, sweetheart! You could’ve let yourself in.”
“I started to but felt funny about it,” Ħamīdah Al Qāzī admitted. “What if you and Durgesh were having a romantic interlude on the living room couch?”
“With Durgesh and my friends always popping in?” Samīnah Al Rizwānah retorted with a chuckle. “Not likely, sweetheart. Even if we had the house to ourselves I’m afraid those days are long gone. Are you just stopping by to say hello, or is there a reason for your visit?”
“Is Durgesh around?”
Samīnah Al Rizwānah shrugged her shoulders. “I never know about him. You can try the garage or the bedroom, if he’s here that’s where he’ll be in most cases. I’ll be in the kitchen if you want to talk; I’m trying a new recipe I saw on cable. ”
After her Ammī retreated, Ħamīdah Al Qāzī hesitated at the foot of the stairs leading up to the second floor.
Why was she even here?
And what would she say if I was in my bedroom?
What the hell was she looking for from her sixty two year old Hindu father?
How could Durgesh possibly have any knowledge that could help her unlock the secret to a dream she was having?
And now the same Hindu was her own dream lover while he was sixty two and she was twenty eight only.
The persistent questions in her racing mind left enough doubt that soured Ħamīdah Al Qāzī on the idea of confronting Durgesh.
She quickly decided that this wasn’t the answer at all and turned to face the front door.
As she took a step forward with the intention of leaving, the door burst open and I , with the same two friends her younger brother Ħamīd Al Qāzī and Jalīs Al Ůsmān she’d dreamed of following behind, entered the home.
“Hey there Ħamīdah Al Qāzī, how are things?” her Hindu Lover, Durgesh, asked, obviously surprised by her unexpected visit.
“Things are good,” she automatically responded with a warm smile. “How about you? Almost done with your field? Your Social Service I mean.”
“It’s endless darling. But the current matters, yes. Almost, just a few more weeks,” I answered with a look of relief. “And then…”
“Freedom, sweet Ammī -loving freedom!” the friend with red hair interjected with a happy grin on her face.
She noticed as My eyes carefully scanned the area before I moved my mouth close to her right ear.
“Want to get high?”
Ħamīdah Al Qāzī’s smile widened, suddenly feeling like she was a teenager again.
The four of us quickly, quietly ascended the steps to My bedroom.
Once we were all inside I locked the door and turned on the stereo to a hard rock radio station.
As her brother and two friends got comfortable on the bed, Ħamīdah Al Qāzī sat on a padded chair a few feet across from the bed.
Her Panjvaqtah Namāzī extremely beautiful Musalmān eyes glanced at the walls which were adorned with rock posters of various bands that she wasn’t familiar with.
“It’s been a while since I’ve been in here,” she freely admitted. “It looks different somehow.”
“Different in a bad way?” I inquired.
“No,” she quickly answered, “just different. Maybe I’m the one that’s changed. Don’t get me wrong, I kind of like this. It’s cozy.”
Ħamīdah Al Qāzī was so preoccupied with the posters and décor that she didn’t notice the insistent stares of the persons that were busily drinking in her exquisite excellent Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān beauty, even her brother.
The pink blouse hugged her shapely figure and emphasized her firm, perky breasts.
The dark skirt left much of her smooth, slender legs exposed.
When she looked forward I was moving into a kneeling position in front of her, my right hand holding a two foot tall, clear plastic, cylindrical water bong.
A small brass bowl was at the bottom front packed with weed, and a short, small brass pipe led into the bottom of the bong which was half-filled with water.
The device looked fairly intimidating and she initially balked.
“No, it’s cool,” I assured Ħamīd Al Qāzī’s nervous sister. “Just suck in when I light up the bowl. The water helps to smooth out the flavor, you’ll see.”
She heard a clicking sound as I flicked the metal roller that contacted an unseen flint which created a spark that lit the butane emitting from the lighter.
The flame rose upward, away from the bowl.
Yet as she pressed her red crimson quivering Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān lips against the top of the pipe and breathed in, the yellow flame was drawn downward and the weed glowed red.
Bubbles arose from the water and white smoke appeared above which she sucked into her lungs.
Ħamīdah Al Qāzī kept sucking until the red glow in the bowl disappeared.
At the same time she thought she felt My hand lightly caressing her left upper thigh, but she couldn’t be sure as a drug-induced buzzing took hold.
She seemed to feel fingertips being lightly drawn over the skin, yet couldn’t be certain if it was me or her overactive imagination.
Despite the cause her nipples swelled with anticipation and pushed outward against her bra and the fabric of her blouse.
At the same time her heart began racing.
When the bowl was empty she withdrew her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān mouth and held the smoke inside of her lungs, allowing her exquisite excellent Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān body to absorb the drug.
A few moments later she exhaled a white cloud.
By this time I had returned to the bed and I packed the bowl for someone else.
“I don’t think I ever met your friends,” Ħamīdah Al Qāzī mentioned and turned toward the girl with red hair. “Hi, I’m Ħamīdah Al Qāzī.”
” Jalīs Al Ůsmān, but the guys call me Red,” she politely introduced herself.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Ħamīd Al Qāzī confirmed. “You must have met us another time, Bājī.”
“Yeah, must have,” Ħamīdah Al Qāzī agreed, surprised that she already knew their names while having no memory of ever having met them earlier.
Ħamīd Al Qāzī borrowed the lighter and took his turn with the bong.
Within a few minutes they each had a turn and a whitish haze settled in the unmoving bedroom air, forming a halo around the illuminated overhead bedroom light.
The three persons settled back on the bed resting on their elbows as Ħamīdah Al Qāzī relaxed in the c hair, enjoying the numbing sensation in her brain.
It was so nice to have a break from Durgesh.
She kept telling herself it was the sex she wasn’t happy with, but that was only part of the story.
Her mind was already made up.
She slowly became aware of the stares she was getting from us.
Ħamīdah Al Qāzī caught us stealing glances of her perky breasts, the outlines of both still-hard nipples obvious to our vision as they formed distinctive outlines in her clothing.
That only made her more aroused as she enjoyed s looking at her that way, with sex on our sexy little minds.
Ħamīdah Al Qāzī even noticed her brother looking at her in a decidedly un-brother-like way, unless she was misinterpreting the gazes and was reading more into them than was intended.
She wasn’t sure why it excited her to think that I was checking her out, but it did, much to her own surprise.
She had never thought of her other acquaintances in that way, so why was she now with Durgesh?
“So what’s it like living on your own?” her brother asked as he packed the bowl for another hit.
“It’s different, but I miss living here at times,” she responded.
I appeared surprised.
“Really? What’s to miss about living here?”
Her extremely beautiful young Musalmān face reddened slightly when she admitted,
“I miss you sometimes. It’s fun having a father around to do things with, even if he isn’t my real father.”
“I miss you sometimes too,” I reported with a smile on my face which widened when I added, “I know that these two have really missed looking at you!”
The other two playfully punched on My arms as Ħamīdah Al Qāzī’s face finished turning red and she burst into laughter.
My comment confirmed what she already observed, but it still left the remaining question unanswered as to whether I myself was also looking at her in a sexual manner.
I got up and closed the distance, kneeling in front of her while handing her the bong.
Once her laughter faded she picked up the offered pipe and placed it on the chair between her thighs, squeezing it between both bare legs.
Ħamīdah Al Qāzī leaned over and moved her red crimson quivering Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān lips around the large opening on top.
This time I placed my left hand on the outside of her bare right thigh as my right hand held the lighter.
As she sucked air in I lit the bowl which glowed bright red.
Once her lungs were filled I placed the lighter aside and moved my right hand to her left leg.
As Ħamīdah Al Qāzī’s buzzed brain became even higher she closed her Panjvaqtah Namāzī extremely beautiful Musalmān eyes and focused on my fingers, which were lightly caressing the smooth, soft Musalmān skin.
The contact may have been innocent and incidental or I could be feeling her up.
As badly as she wanted to know which was the case, her exquisite excellent Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān body was interpreting the move as one of being sexual in nature and responded in kind.
Her nipples, which had decreased in size, hardened and enlarged once more.
And there was distinctive warmth beginning to stir deep in her glorious Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Musalmān loins as a hopeful longing settled in the back of her mind.
“Breathe the smoke into my mouth,” I suddenly invited her.
Ħamīdah Al Qāzī nodded, with pleasant surprise indicating her understanding and agreement to my suggestion.
She never thought I’d invite her even to such an intimacy.
Allah, are her dreams coming true?
A tingle passed through her exquisite excellent Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān body as my face slowly moved toward hers.
She felt like a girl at the end of a first date getting ready to kiss her guy for the first time, nervous and frightened while also excited.
Her exquisite excellent Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān body stiffened slightly as her head tiled to one side.
I moved in and then stopped, leaving a slight gap of air between our lips.
‘Idiot, why don’t you kiss me?’ Ħamīdah Al Qāzī as well as almost whispered to me.
I smiled at her.
My hands squeezed her smooth Musalmān thighs, significantly this time, and inched upward, venturing beneath the bottom edge of her short skirt until the tips of my impish Hindu fingers reached the elastic leg bands of her bikini panties.
She loved me.
She wanted me inside her.
The reality dawned on her as a thousand bricks.
I am also a Musalmān Beauty.
I want you inside me very much.
I can’t even live without having you inside me as much as I can have.
The hell with our age difference.
You are already having countless Live in Relationship Partners of my age with their Ammīs too in the same capacity.
She leaned forward, pressing our lips together deliberately as she slowly exhaled, blowing the acrid smoke into my mouth.
Ħamīdah Al Qāzī was tempted to slide her tongue into my mouth but resisted, fearful that I would reject her advances.
How she wished she knew what I was thinking!
Did I want her as badly as she wanted me, or was it all her imagination inspired by some dream?
Was the recurring dream all she would have of me?
Almost all of her girlfriends are already fucking Durgesh now openly with their Ammīs even with them.
Why can’t she?
Why can’t Ħamīdah Al Qāzī too?
Her nipples were swollen again.
She could feel the front of her bra slightly shifting over the tips of both nipples when she leaned forward to meet my Hindu lips, sending slight jolts of tingling pleasure through her flesh.
There was a dull ache in her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot as she was beginning to awaken sexually, her increasing need sparked by forbidden thoughts of me.
Her mind was focused on my Hindu fingers which were resting along the edge of her panties.
How she wished they would venture underneath and then shift downward to her inner thighs to feel the wisps of trimmed pubic hair that flanked her outer folds.
When her lungs were empty I leaned back, my hands sliding down her smooth Musalmān thighs to the knees, ending the all-too-brief fantasy that was not to be.
I turned away from her and exhaled the smoke, retrieved the bong from between her clasped legs, and returned to the bed.
“That was fun,” Ħamīdah Al Qāzī announced hopefully as the deep hit left her mind buzzing even more urgently than before.
Her nipples were still hard and once again attracted the leering gazes of the guys.
“Abbū is going away this weekend to see his family, you should come to my apartment for dinner on Friday and we can party afterwards.”
“That sounds good,” I responded.
“You can bring them too if you want,” Ħamīdah Al Qāzī extended the invitation. “It can be the sixty second birthday party I never gave you.”
“I’ll be there, with or without these two,” I promised with a smile, which was then replaced by an expression of disappointment. “You’re not going yet, are you?”
She smiled and shook her head.
“No, I was just thinking that I missed your party and wanted to make it up to you.”
“You didn’t miss much,” her brother conceded.
I smiled to her brother.
He was nobody’s fool however.
It was clearly written on his shrewd face that he had clearly watched his sister kissed me on my lips immensely inviting me to go further.
We listened to music and enjoyed the buzzing sensations clouding our brains.
When a fast song gave way to a familiar ballad a smile crossed Ħamīdah Al Qāzī’s lips.
“I love this song,” she said to no one before standing up, closing her Panjvaqtah Namāzī extremely beautiful Musalmān eyes, and swaying her exquisite excellent Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān body in rhythm to the music.
A few moments later when Ħamīdah Al Qāzī felt hands tentatively grasping hers, she opened her Panjvaqtah Namāzī extremely beautiful Musalmān eyes and saw that I decided to join her.
When I asked if she wanted a partner Ħamīdah Al Qāzī smiled and nodded, moving her arms around my shoulders and pulling herself against my chest.
We Danced in slow, graceful movements in rhythm with the beat of the song.
“I’ve been missing you… I’m glad you stopped by,” I told her as her head rested on my left shoulder.
“I am too,” she decided before realizing something. “I’ve been feeling really guilty about missing your birthday. Will you really come over on Friday?”
“Yeah, I will. I’m not sure about the others, but I’ll be there at least.”
“Wonderful,” she smiled in grateful relief. “I’ll make sure it’s worth your time.”
“You don’t have to get me anything.”
“Of course I do! And I will,” she promised. “I’ll try and think of something special.”
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam