Al Safiyah Al Ghaus couldn’t control herself any more.
“That’s the problem.” she fired her husband.
The ever-incompetent idiot.
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs smiled patronizingly.
“What’s the problem?”
“That I married you.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus blurted out. “Shame on you. You can’t fuck your own wife.”
“What the hell you mean? I haven’t fucked you ever? You are a virgin still now?”
“Thank you very much.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus said tartly, “And for your kind information, Al Nadīm Al Quddūs, I was a widow in Las Vegas, Nevada, when you proposed me. I wasn’t a virgin even then.”
Pratāp Bachhalyā interfered,
“Well, well, well, Bhābhījān, Bhāījān, Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī and Durgesh have come here for a definite purpose.”
“Damned if you aren’t right.” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs grabbed the opportunity.
It was troublesome for Al Nadīm Al Quddūs that he had to watch his own sisters being fucked so thoroughly by three Hindus.
Damn Hindus and their Chaturang Shāshvat Maithunyog.
No problem yoga was being appreciated now throughout the globe.
But Chaturang Shāshvat Maithunyog!
“Just what do you want, Hindu Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt?” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs asked me.
Pratāp Bachhalyā squirmed fucking his extremely lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān wife, Al Zakiyah Al Qāsim.
“Just a minute, Bhāījān. We unanimously decided that Al Safiyah Al Ghaus Bhābhījān would talk with Durgesh on our behalf. Didn’t we?”*
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs smiled.
“Then why the hell have we called our lawyer, Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī Bājī?”
“It’s alright, Al Nadīm.” Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī cooed. My Uncut Hindu Penis was still wildly visiting her ever-tight Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt. “I can understand. Pratāp has his faith more in Al Safiyah Al Ghaus Bhābhījān, than in me. I’m still here. Let Al Safiyah Al Ghaus Bhābhījān talk with Durgesh on Pratāp Bachhalyā’s behalf at least.”
“Well,” Vikram Bachhalyā said, “I can’t help that my wife, Al Zakiyah Al Qāsim and Pratāp’s wife, Al Lubnā Al Qāsim, still have faith in Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī Bājī. I don’t. Pratāp is right. Almost every woman of Durgesh shamelessly says:
‘Once with Durgesh,
all the rest is trash.’
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī laughed.
“I don’t blame you, Vikram Bachhalyā. My sister, Al Zakiyah Al Qāsim was never as money minded as she is now.”
“What do you mean?” Vikram Bachhalyā asked curtly.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus prudently avoided the hostility being developed more and more among her sisters and their Bachhalyā Hindu husbands.
In Ved Nagar, despite every effort from me and other Dvij Hindus, the Bachhalyās were still becoming a dominant influencing force now.
The Brāhm Sampradāý, the Brāhm denomination of Hinduism, had opted for the Bachhalyās’ leadership of them.
“Just what do you want Durgesh, Hindu Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt?” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus asked me shrewdly.
“Well,” I said, “I’ve come here as a lawyer representing a client that has an interest adverse to you.”
“Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd?”
“I can’t disclose my client’s name without his express permission.”
“His? Or ‘her’?”
“That’s also a part of privileged communication between a client and a lawyer.”
“What do you want to talk about?” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus smiled at me patiently.
“Imrān Hāshmī is dead. I want to ask you about circumstances that may have led to his death or…”
“Imrān Hāshmī is dead?” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs asked with cold disbelief, “Well, wasn’t he the husband of Dr. Raziyah Siddīqī?”
“That’s right.” I replied Al Nadīm Al Quddūs.
“He can’t be dead.” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs said curtly, “It would greatly embarrass us. Are you certain of your facts, Jījū?”
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs regarded me as though he expected me to wither, to weaken, and crawl under the table under the impact of his disapproving stare.
I winked at Al Nadīm Al Quddūs.
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs immediately avoided meeting my eyes.
He looked elsewhere immediately.
Damn the Hindu scoundrel.
The ever-confident rascal.
If only the womankind never supported Durgesh…
“Imrān Hāshmī is quite thoroughly dead. Someone fucked Imrān Hāshmī in his ass and then stabbed him.”
“I never knew Imrān Hāshmī was a gay.” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs said angrily.
“He never told you?” I asked him feigning surprise, “Perhaps he didn’t know every gay has informed you already that he is a gay. Imrān Hāshmī should also have done the same.”
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs looked at me irritably.
“I didn’t mean that.”
“Al Nadīm,” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus admonished her husband coldly, “Durgesh never said Imrān Hāshmī was a gay.”
“The hell Durgesh didn’t. He said Imrān Hāshmī was fucked in his ass, didn’t he?”
“It doesn’t necessarily mean Imrān Hāshmī was a gay. It may also be that Imrān Hāshmī was raped.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus said.
“Shankar Mahāpralayankar? Rājesh Rājpūt?”*
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus again admonished her husband.
“The trouble with you, Al Nadīm Al Quddūs, is that you believe on publicity more than your own investigation.”
“What do you mean?” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs retorted.
He never liked that a woman, however intelligent she might be, would dominate him ever.
He felt his maleness hurt.
He was unable to understand that wisdom and prudence dominates, not maleness or femaleness.
Musalmān Beauties were prudent enough to understand the ultimate success of Hindu males.
They have successfully established the ever-miraculous global city, Ved Nagar.
Today Musalmān Beauties were ruling on Ved Nagar after Hindus.
The Musalmān Beauties were smarter than Musalmīn.
They had replaced Musalmīn in their sex life with Hindus.
They were adamant to establish Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan had vowed to do it.
It was now her Mission of life/existence.
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs knew it and he had vowed to oppose it.
He was a successful screenplay writer and storywriter.
He had understood how the goal of Ved Nagar was achieved by HVSI Group of Business Enterprises.
Today, HVSI Group of Business Enterprises is controlling every business whether retail or otherwise.
Originally, it was started by Vishvās Shakr Mānav, the utmost brilliant father of Durgesh.
Imāmzādī Sheikħzādī Dr. Al Kħadījah Al Wahāb PhD loved Vishvās Shakr Mānav.
She wanted to destroy Pseudo Islam and replace it with True Islam, everywhere.
Vishvās Shakr Mānav wanted to destroy Pseudo Hinduism.
They found true Hinduism was actually True Islam.
It was the fact that made Hindu Muslim Unity so perfect before 1857 that even the British Empire couldn’t face it.
Even the British Empire needed complete ninety years to destroy it.
Even then, most of the Musalmīn never left India.
The Hindu Muslim Unity was so strong.
Mughal-e-Åāzam, Shahanshāh Jalāluddīn Muħammad Akbar, had set India successfully on the path that couldn’t be reversed even by the great British Empire.*
When my friend, Muħammad Ibrāhīm’s daughter first asked if she and her friends could have a ‘sleep over’ in honor of their graduating from high school I wasn’t too happy.
The thought of a bunch of kids making noise all night, keeping me awake didn’t appeal to me.
But, my friend, Muħammad Ibrāhīm’s wife, Shakīlah Sultān, said sure, no problem so what could I say?
I was angry somewhat with myself that I said her to get permission from her Ammī.
I never anticipated her Ammī would permit it.
Well, it was their house.
My friend, Muħammad Ibrāhīm, was in jail now.
Despite my every effort, I could not get him out on bail.
Muħammad Åbdullah said,
“He doesn’t deserve it, Durgesh. Please stop taking his side. If you are really sympathetic to his wife, Shakīlah Sultān Bhābhījān, why the hell you yourself don’t fuck her now?”
“Muħammad Åbdullaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah,” I shouted, “how the hell did you suggest it?”
Muħammad Åbdullah was furious.
“Hasn’t she grabbed your Uncut Hindu Penis even while Muħammad Ibrāhīm and I were present there?”
“You challenged Shakīlah Sultān, Bhabhijan, didn’t you? You called her a chicken.”
“I did that purposefully. Muħammad Ibrāhīm has killed Imrān Hāshmī. He tried to frame Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd. I would never allow him out on bail even.”*
I watched Muħammad Åbdullah harshly.
“Now I understand, Muħammad Åbdullah.”
“Oh,” Muħammad Åbdullah said curtly, “now you understand. Now the hell you understand.”
“Don’t try to discipline me. I never took any discipline from you. If I had, my entire sixteen nudist feminist sisters were disgracing me still now everywhere.”
“You want to punish Muħammad Ibrāhīm, don’t you?” I charged Muħammad Åbdullah angrily.
“That isn’t any secret now.”
“Muħammad Åbdullah, he says he is innocent.”
“And you believe it?”
“Didn’t he try to frame Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd?”
“Someone tried to frame Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd.” I amended Muħammad Åbdullah patiently, “It’s more likely that Al Nadīm Al Quddūs did it. His sisters did it. Al Muħammad Al Qāsim had a billion at least. And they have already tried their best to disinherit Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd.”
“You think Al Muħammad Al Qāsim has really been murdered?”
“Al Muħammad Al Qāsim wasn’t anybody’s fool. I know he met you before he vanished.”
“Vanished.” Muħammad Åbdullah said stubbornly, “the dead body they claim to be that of Al Muħammad Al Qāsim, certainly resembles him, but…”
“Al Muħammad Al Qāsim has a son in law, Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand. He is himself shrewd enough to troubleshoot Al Muħammad Al Qāsim’s every trouble.”*
I never told Muħammad Åbdullah that Muħammad Ibrāhīm’s wife, Shakīlah Sultān Bhābhījān, has in the meantime fucked me.
I knew Muħammad Åbdullah himself encouraged Shakīlah Sultān Bhābhījān to fuck me.
The day Muħammad Ibrāhīm was refused to be out on bail, Shakīlah Sultān Bhābhījān plunged on me, undressed me herself, and straddled me.
“B..bh.. Bhābhījān,” I gasped, “I respect you very much.”
“Damn you.” Shakīlah Sultān Bhābhījān thundered at me, “I’m your friend’s wife. Am I not?”
“Sure, Bhābhījān, but…”
“He is in jail. Now replace him. You promised Muħammad Ibrāhīm that you would take care of his wives, his daughters, his sisters and his entire household. Didn’t you?”
“Of course, Bhābhījān, but…”
“Your Bhābhījān wants your legendary Uncut Hindu Lund into her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot now. Give it to me.”
I still couldn’t believe Shakīlah Sultān Bhābhījān had come to me entirely nude.
Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā, even at her forty what a dazzling Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Beauty she was.
I had noticed her attention to me.
It was not of a friend’s wife’s ever.
Muħammad Ibrāhīm had also noticed it miserably.
What the hell could he do?
Durgesh was behaving with Shakīlah Sultān perfectly.
But Shakīlah Sultān herself was behaving suggestively.
Allah, wasn’t she satisfied with him?
Did she also want to fuck Durgesh?
Allah Rabbil åālmīn.
Durgesh is a love magnet to Musalmān Beauties.*
Nude Shakīlah Sultān Bhābhījān was straddling on nude me.
My Uncut Hindu Lund was in her extremely beautiful right hand.
She was playing with it.
“Bhābhījān,” I tried to say, “Please, control yourself. Muħammad Ibrāhīm is innocent.”
“If you wouldn’t fuck me, I would testify against your friend.” Shakīlah Sultān Bhābhījān smiled at me cunningly.
“Close the door, please.”
“Hey, I want to show everyone that I’ve found my new husband already.”
“Are you crazy?”
“I have so many women friends that are married to your Musalmān friends.” Shakīlah Sultān Bhābhījān smiled suggestively.
“So?” I looked into her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān eyes coldly.
The woman was making me unable to meet my eyes with Muħammad Ibrāhīm.
She wasn’t any different ultimately from my other Musalmān friends’ Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān wives.
Most of them were already fucking me.
Shakīlah Sultān Bhābhījān was an exception to them.
I respected her therefore very much.
Muħammad Åbdullah was never confident Shakīlah Sultān Bhābhījān would never fuck me.
“Sooner or later they would all fuck you.” Muħammad Åbdullah had predicted.
I knew Muħammad Åbdullah was right.
But I didn’t want to break Muħammad Ibrāhīm’s heart.
Shakīlah Sultān Bhābhījān was rubbing my Uncut Hindu Prick’s utmost experienced head now between her labial lips.
Bit by bit she was pushing herself on me.
“Bhābhījān, we Hindus think a Bhābhī is as if a mother.”
“Nonsense.” Shakīlah Sultān Bhābhījān winked at me, “You have already fucked almost entire Musalmān wives of your Musalmān friends that are extremely beautiful. What do you think I was born yesterday?”
She positioned my Uncut Hindu Prick between her ravenously quivering Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān labial lips and pushed herself.
My Uncut Hindu Lund immediately entered into her Musalmān Choot upto its head.
I felt my Uncut Hindu Lund burning inside her.
So dazzlingly beautiful Shakīlah Sultān Bhābhījān was that despite my efforts not to fuck her, I now wanted to grab her and fuck her wildly till we both existed.
Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā, now perhaps I myself wanted to fuck her more furiously.
Shakīlah Sultān Bhābhījān thrust again and my Uncut Hindu Lund entered into her tight Musalmān Choot almost one fourth.
“Bhābhījān,” I protested.
“Shut up, you idiot, enjoy, and let me enjoy too.”
“I wanted to fuck you right when I saw you first.”
“That’s why you fell in my lap deliberately?”
Shakīlah Sultān Bhābhījān winked at me.
“You scoundrel, you squeezed my boobs and buttocks inadvertently, then and there, didn’t you?”
“Inadvertently, Bhābhījān, inadvertently. You said yourself . You are so beautiful that I couldn’t resist myself at all. And when you grabbed my Uncut Hindu Penis feigning it was an accident, I’d just gone crazy.”
“I wanted to hold it, I wanted to play with it, I wanted to suck it. My so many girlfriends were already enjoying it. And they had challenged me I couldn’t enjoy it before my marriage with Muħammad Ibrāhīm.”*
A week before the party my friend, Muħammad Ibrāhīm’s wife, Shakīlah Sultān, found out she was going to be out of town, presenting at some conference, and wouldn’t be there for the ‘big event’.
This meant that I would be the chaperone.
When I brought up the idea of postponing the sleep over until my friend, Muħammad Ibrāhīm’s wife, Shakīlah Sultān, would be around to ‘heard’ the kids, I again was outvoted.
Saturday morning finally arrived and my friend, Muħammad Ibrāhīm’s daughter, Noor Islam, was up early getting things ready for the party.
I went with her to the grocery store to load up on food and drinks.
When we got home, we went to find out whether the pool was clean and make sure everything was ready.
By about 4:00PM we were ready.
The girls started arriving at about five.
I knew a few of them by name, others looked vaguely familiar and several I had never seen before.
I stayed in my den, watching TV and surfing the web.
About seven, Noor Islam popped her head in the door.
“Uncle, I need your help.” She said, “We can’t get the barbeque going.”
I let out a big sigh, as if she was really imposing on me, got up from my chair and headed to the backyard.
It took no time at all to get the fire going.
When I looked around for my friend, Muħammad Ibrāhīm’s daughter she was nowhere to be found.
Shrugging, I watched the servants piling the hamburgers and hot dogs onto the grill and figured that I had an excellent chef in my services.
Within a few minutes, the eight girls came, flying out of the house, headed for the pool.
As I watched them running by, I began to think that being the chief host for this party wasn’t going to be too bad after all.
All of the girls wore little thong bikinis and from where I stood there wasn’t a bad looking one in the bunch.
It was a perfect evening, fairly warm so everyone was in and out of the pool as they laughed, talked and had a good time.
After a while I noticed that every now and then one or two of the girls would head into the house for a couple minutes and then come back.
At first, I thought it was to use the bathroom, but it seemed the girls were now heading to the house about every 15 minutes.
Finally, my curiosity got the best of me and about 5 minutes after my friend, Muħammad Ibrāhīm’s daughter and her friend Rukħsānah Firdaus went inside, I followed them.*
I didn’t see anyone as I entered the living room.
That’s when I heard laughter coming from my den.
I walked quietly to the door and peaked in.
There was Noor Islam and Rukħsānah Firdaus downing shots of her Ammī’s private stock of Tequila.
From the looks of it the girls had been drinking for a while.
The bottle had been unopened and was now almost empty.
My first thought was to barge in and give them hell.
Then I figured that they were all over 18 and it was a party so why should an old prude and spoil things.
My only concern was if one of them decided to go for a drive.
Stepping into the den, I said in a very stern tone,
“The cost of the Tequila is everyone’s car keys.”
Rukħsānah Firdaus had been bringing a shot to her lips.
She spilled the tequila all over her chin and chest as she jumped when I began to speak.
Both the girls turned toward me, as they quickly set the shot glasses down on the desk and then stood in front of the bottle and glasses.
I let them fidget for a minute before saying,
“I said I want everyone’s car keys – NOW – or the drinking and party stops!”
Rukħsānah Firdaus was the first to get it.
“If we give you our car keys you won’t care if we drink?” she asked is a very shy voice.
“That’s what I said” was my reply.
They almost ran over me!
Both the girls flew out of the room and within two minutes Rukħsānah Firdaus was back with eight sets of car keys.
She was out of breath from running and her chest was heaving as she gasped for air.
The fact that she was wearing a very skimpy bikini and that her superb ardent Musalmān tits looked like they were ready to burst out of the thin material was not wasted on me.
I felt my Uncut Hindu Cock begin to stir as I enjoyed the view.
Apparently Rukħsānah Firdaus had had quite a few shots of the tequila already, she was swaying pretty well as she stood in front of me with a crooked little smile on her face, both hands full of car keys.
“Hereyago,” she mumbled bringing her hands up to her chest she held out the car keys in front of her.
Thinking she was going to drop them, I automatically raised my hands to catch the keys.
At the same moment, Rukħsānah Firdaus swayed in my direction.
The net effect was that her hands hit my chest causing her to drop the keys to the floor while my hands ended up full of her superb ardent Musalmān tits.
As much as I knew, I should have let go of Rukħsānah Firdaus’s tits and back away, yet my hands refused to obey.
“Mr. Durgesh!! You shouldn’t be doing that,” Rukħsānah Firdaus said impishly.
But she did nothing either to push my hands away or back up.
It seemed to me that she pressed her taught 34B’s a little harder into my hands.
“Sālī,” I winked at her, “I’d fuck you till you exist.”
“Really?” she cooed, “you are most welcome. That’s my own dream, however, since I saw you fucking my Ammī vigorously. Allah, how she was enjoying your Uncut Hindu Lund in her ardent Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Choot. I envied her very much.”
Feeling her nipples growing under my fingers, I pinched both of them. Rukħsānah Firdaus let out a little moan deep in her throat and brought her arms up to my shoulders, resting her hands on the back of my neck.
As she pressed against me, my hands came off her superb ardent Musalmān tits , sliding around her back until we were in a tight ashvinātam embrace.
I could feel her nipples now pressing into my chest like two pencil erasers.
My hands slid down her back to her lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān ass.
The thong bikini did nothing to cover her as I took an ass cheek into each hand and began to squeeze.
My Uncut Hindu Cock was now fully erect and pressing against her firm belly.
Looking down into her lovely eyes, I saw her part her lips as she pulled my face to hers.
Our lips met – then our tongues as the kiss became more passionate.
Pulling her to me I could feel her hot Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt against my thigh as she wrapped her legs around mine.
Rukħsānah Firdaus dropped one of her hands between us and began stroking my hard Uncut Hindu Cock.
“Mmmmmmmm, that feels good” she whispered, “I want to see that big Uncut Hindu Cock of yours Mr. Durgesh.”
We pulled far enough apart for both of her hands to reach between us and in no time, she had loosened my belt, unsnapped by trousers and pushed them down my legs.
Her hands then went to my rigid Uncut Hindu Cock, slowly rubbing up and down my 8 inches.
This was too much for me.
My own hands went to work consequently.
I easily brushed aside her skimpy bikini top with one hand and reaching one of her superb ardent Musalmān tits; I begin pinching and pulling on her hard nipple.
My other hand burrowed under Rukħsānah Firdaus’s bikini briefs sliding my fingers thru the fine down of pubic hair until my finger slid over her erect Musalmān clit and then into her hot Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt.
Pulling my hand back a few inches I thrust it forward again repeating the action.
Her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt was so wet my Uncut Hindu Lund slid into her with almost no resistance.
I fucked her.
This caused Rukħsānah Firdaus to moan even more as she dropped one of her hands to my heavy balls and began massaging them.
I was quickly approaching the point of no return.
Any thoughts of how wrong this was were long gone.
The only thing I could think of now was shoving my Uncut Hindu Cock into this hot Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Sex godess’s drooling Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt.
Grabbing the thin material, I yanked off the thong covering Rukħsānah Firdaus’s hot Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Pussy.
Then circling her waist with my arm I lifted her up off the floor.
It was two steps to the wall to steady us.
As we moved I dropped my other hand to my Uncut Hindu Cock and positioned the head at her hot Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Pussy and lowered her onto my fat pole.
The whole process took just a few seconds.
Rukħsānah Firdaus’s eyes opened wide as she felt her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Pussy lips being stretched by my huge Hindu erection.
She was about to say something when I relaxed my hold on her, causing her to slide all the way down on my waiting Uncut Hindu Cock.
She was now impaled on my Uncut Hindu Cock with her back against the wall and her feet dangling several inches off the floor.
“Allah, Måshā Allah! Subħān Allah! Oh God, you’ve got a huge Uncut Hindu Cock!” she hissed as I lifted her up and dropped her on my Uncut Hindu Cock again. “It feels like you’re splitting me in half.”
Rukħsānah Firdaus’s arms were now back on my shoulders helping raise and lower her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt onto my steely Uncut Hindu Cock.
She had closed her extremely beautiful Musalmān eyes and was shaking her beautiful head slowly from side to side, as our fucking tempo increased.
Soon sweat broke out across her forehead and upper lip and I could see just the tip of her tongue sticking through her clinched lips.
Her breathing became erratic and her face flushed.
Rukħsānah Firdaus brought her legs up and locked them behind me.
This gave me a better angle at her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt and with the next thrust I went even deeper up her slick Musalmān hole.
That was all it took.
She spasmed in my arms, jerking her head back and letting out a long moan of pleasure.
We fucked for hours, wildly, passionately and assaulting on each other nonstop.
Ultimately, this sent me over the edge and my Uncut Hindu Cock erupted in her tight Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt.
Shooting glob after glob of my cum deep into her grasping Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Pussy.
We held onto each other for several minutes riding the crest of our mutual orgasm.
Finally, Rukħsānah Firdaus unlocked her legs from around my waist and I eased her to the floor.
My Uncut Hindu Cock slid out of her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Pussy, followed by a thick stream of cum.
Our breathing returned to normal and Rukħsānah Firdaus looked up into my eyes as a huge grin crossed her face.
“Allah, Måshā Allah! Subħān Allah! God Mr. Durgesh, you’re still hotat your sixty three!! Wallah!” she said, “You have got one huge Uncut Hindu Cock and boy do you know how to use it. I haven’t cum like that in a long long time. We have GOT to do this again as much as we can.” She pulled my face to hers, gave me a quick passionate kiss and slid out from between the wall and me.
“Now I need to find my suit, clean up this bucket of cum you shot into me and get back to the party.” Finding her thong Rukħsānah Firdaus disappeared in the direction of the downstairs bathroom.*
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
The train had come to a stop.
Doors glided open.
Porters stood helping passengers off the train.
Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd stood looking first to the left, then to the right.
A woman got off the train, stood looking around as though expecting to meet someone, started to walk toward the depot, paused, turned and walked toward Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd.
“Waħīdah!” the woman said.
“Why, Ammījān!” Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd exclaimed with entirely unanticipated extremely pleasant surprise. “Allah! Good heavens, I didn’t recognize you. Even your own daughter couldn’t recognize you! What have you done to yourself? Måshā Allah! Subħān Allah!”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and I exchanged glances.
“Allah Allah! Good Lord, Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd? Al Nadīm Al Quddūs’s first wife? I’ll be damned.”*
Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd smiled at her daughter.
“Hey, don’t tell me my new Hindu husband, my new Hindu Kħasam, didn’t tell you how miraculously he has transformed me.”
“Well, he told me,” Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd managed to control somewhat her still miraculously extremely pleasant surprise, “but I could never imagine… Ammījān, you look only my elder sister now. None can ever guess you are my real Ammī. It’s just a miracle, Ammī. You’ve really taken off weight.”
“Thirty five pounds.” Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd said, “I’m down to a hundred and twenty one and I’m going to stay that way. I’ve learned the hard way what happens to a woman when she lets her figure go.”
“Let Abbū see you and…”
Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd interrupted her daughter in the middle,
“Allah, Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd, don’t tell me you still care for that bastard. He divorced a Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān immensely faithful wife, for a hostess, for a shill who put on daringly cut evening gowns that were tight and clinging and circulated around the gambling tables here in Las Vegas, Nevada.”
Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd was immensely angry.
Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd could understand very well what her Ammī was suffering through mentally.
“That’s why I requested you to meet somewhere else. But you insisted.”
“I lost my husband here. I want to celebrate my new private life exactly here to wipe out my memories of nonstop mental torture. You perhaps don’t know the bastard is also coming here to request me not to allow you to live in relationship with Durgesh. Hahaha. A thoroughly immoral husband is impersonating a thoroughly moral father now.”
I entered the room Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and Al Safiyah Al Ghaus were waiting for me in.
It was mellow, rich, with subdued sunlight filtering through pearl gray drapes.
There was wall-to-wall oyster-shell-colored carpeting on the floor.
The chairs were deep and comfortable.
The whole room was esthetically decorated.
It gave the impression that it had been designed for living, rather than to conform, to imitate, to any particular style of interior decoration.
“Beautifully decorated.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus said as I entered there.
“Thank you.” I smiled, “But the credit goes to your friend Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, not to me.”
“I don’t think Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and you are two different persons.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus cooed.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan laughed.
“Thank you, Al Safiyah.”
“I’m sorry that you two, Al Muħammad Al Qāsim and you, have differences of opinions.”
“Don’t be so modest ever.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan said furiously, “Your ‘father in law’ has clearly accused Al Safiyah Al Ghaus that she has murdered her previous husband.”
“It was his opinion, darling, not mine. How can I answer for him?”
“I think I need to talk with Al Zakāt Al Qāsim about it.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan watched me significantly.
“The question is why did your friend break Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd’s home?”
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus watched me suggestively.
“Al Nadīm Al Quddūs went to me in Las Vegas, Nevada. I didn’t go to him.” she said somewhat acidly, “moreover, the life I was living wasn’t a dignified life. It was my compulsion, not my choice. Why the hell I shouldn’t grab an opportunity to lead a respectful life with a millionaire if I could?”
“Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd should herself blame for what happened.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan said curtly, “How the hell she thought Al Nadīm Al Quddūs woud not react to as a dazzling Musalmān Beauty as Al Safiyah Al Ghaus? How did Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd forget she was herself a dazzling Musalmān Beauty when Al Nadīm Al Quddūs married her? It’s a world of bitter competition. Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd should have maintained her beauty herself. Why the hell did she forget to watch her married life to be safe if she could?”*
I smiled at Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan ironically.
“You mean every Musalmān Beauty is justified in breaking the other Musalmān Beauty’s home, if she is leading the hard and degrading life as Al Safiyah Al Ghaus did?”
“Al Safiyah Al Ghaus could do it because Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd lost her interest in keeping her Musalmān husband properly.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan said curtly, “Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd took her husband for granted to be devoted to her only because he was married to her. Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd stopped watching her own figure despite knowing very well the polygamous nature of a man. It was her own mistake and she paid for it.”
“You haven’t any sympathy for Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd?”
“I have more sympathy for Al Safiyah Al Ghaus.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan said tersely.
“Because Al Safiyah Al Ghaus was suffering more in Las Vegas, Nevada?”
“Because Al Safiyah Al Ghaus was suffering more in Las Vegas, Nevada.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan repeated despite my smirk, “Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd was already a honorable housewife. Al Safiyah Al Ghaus was not. It was natural for Al Safiyah Al Ghaus that she tried to improve her personal life.”
“And Al Nadīm Al Quddūs was the only man available to Al Safiyah Al Ghaus?” I kept smirking.*
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled curtly.
“Al Nadīm Al Quddūs was the immediate man available. Al Safiyah Al Ghaus didn’t love him. He was the only immediate man available to her who could help her for getting rid off that rather undignified life she was compelled to lead.”
I watched Al Safiyah Al Ghaus.
Al Muħammad Al Qāsim suspected I was fucking her.
I didn’t contradict him.
It was useless.
The reputation Dr. Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ, Åāýéshah Siddīqah, Kħadījah Muħammad, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and her now famous/infamous seven movements: Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club, Cuckold Your Musalmān husband, Ashvinātam Gangbang Club, Al Jihād fil Durgesh fī sabīlillāh, Jet Musalmān Beauties Squad, Durgesh Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ Sex Therapy and Durgesh Åāýéshah Siddīqah Social Service, had built up for me, never allowed anyone to believe ever that, a Musalmān Beauty was available to me and I never fucked her.*
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus awoke in her luxurious Ved Nagar mansion.
She pressed a button to open the electrically controlled drapes.
She was confronted by the side of a young man.
Vikram Bachhalyā was clad in a white T-shirt and exquisite jeans.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus struggled to sit up, buzzing for Musarrat Kħālid, her secretary.
At the same time Al Safiyah Al Ghaus was flinging on a marabou trimmed silk robe and pressing her feet into dusty pink mules.
Vikram Bachhalyā stretched himself and strolled casually out of view.
“Musarrat Kħālid,” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus called, “where the hell are you?”
Musarrat Kħālid appeared, inscrutable, calm and anxious to her mistress’s calls.
She appreciated Al Safiyah Al Ghaus.
Most of the Ved Nagar film industry wives screamed at their secretaries.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus never did it.
She was always sophisticated.
What a pleasant exception Al Safiyah Al Ghaus was to the other Ved Nagar film industry wives.
The same Hollywood wives were there.
The same Bollywood wives were there.
The same Lollywood wives were there.
The same Tollywood wives were there.
Yet, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus was quite different with them.
“There was Vikram Bachhalyā out by the pool. I wonder what the Al Zakiyah Al Qāsim’s Hindu husband was doing there. A Bachhalyā rarely loves a Musalmān Beauty. All the Bachhalyās are crazily obsessed with the Brāhmañ Beauties. You know that, Musarrat Kħālid, don’t you?”
Musarrat Kħālid smiled patiently,
“Durgesh is also a Bachhalyā, ma’am.”
“There are exceptions too, to every general attitude we notice about others.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus smiled patiently too, “Don’t you think so?”
“That’s good. Make sure all the doors are locked.”
Musarrat Kħālid nodded,
She began to collect debris of clutter from Al Safiyah Al Ghaus’s bedside table. Dirty Kleenex, a half finished glass of wine, a rifled box of chocolates.
“Musarrat,” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus addressed her again.
“Don’t get excited, Señora.” Musarrat Kħālid said stoically, “Al Zakiyah Al Qāsim ma’am is not feeling good. She requested Vikram Bachhalyā, her husband…”
Musarrat Kħālid even couldn’t complete her sentence.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me that before?” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus scolded Musarrat Kħālid and flung herself into her bathroom.
She slammed the door so hard that a framed print sprang off the wall and crashed to the floor.
Dumb ass woman.
It was impossible to get good help anymore.
They came. They went.
They did not give a damn even if you were raped and ravaged in your own home.
And this would have to happen while Al Nadīm Al Quddūs was away on location.
Al Zakiyah Al Qāsim would never have dared to pretend to be sick if Al Nadīm Al Quddūs was here.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus flung off her robe, slipped out of her nightgown, and stepped under the invigorating sharpness of an ice cold shower.
She gritted her teeth.
Cold shower was best for the skin.
It tightened everything up.
Allah målūm, God knows, even with the gym and yoga and the modern dance class it still all needed tightening.
No, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus wasn’t fat even a bit.
She knew very well how incredibly beautiful she was.
People were either jealous or crazy of her incredible Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Beauty.
She was aware of it.
She knew it was her greatest weapon in this damn male dominated world.
Her brother in law, her dévar, Al Muħammad Al Qāsim, hated the ground Al Safiyah Al Ghaus walked on, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus knew.
But what can the damn fool do?
He is claiming now Al Safiyah Al Ghaus has murdered her former husband.
But can the moron explain why the hell she worked as a hostess before marrying Al Nadīm Al Quddūs?
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus smiled.
She wasn’t born yesterday.
Al Muħammad Al Qāsim still has a long way to understand what Al Safiyah Al Ghaus really was.
The life had taught her more than it taught Al Muħammad Al Qāsim.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus smiled shrewdly.
She lived now in a six bedroomed, seven bathroomed, Ved Nagar Film Industry palace.
On the flats too.
Not stuck up in the hills.
On the flats.
Prime real Estate.
Her extraordinary devastating Musalmān beauty is perfectly being taken care of.
Her hair was a rich brown, cut short and tipped with golden streaks.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus’s Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān skin was alabaster white and smooth.
Thanks to regular facials.
Her teeth were white and even.
She was prudent enough never to stop reading and learning.
Most of the Ved Nagar film industry wives criticize Al Safiyah Al Ghaus that she reads so much.
They didn’t understand its benefits.
Moreover, the proud Musalmān Beauties neither wanted to read and keep on improving themselves as Al Safiyah Al Ghaus did without failure nonstop.
Most of the Ved Nagar film industry wives used to read Hollywood stuff only.
‘Vogue’, ‘People’, ‘Us’.
They skimmed the trades, ‘Variety’ and ‘Hollywood Reporter’.
Wasn’t Ronald Regan elected the President?
If they can do it, why the hell can’t Al Nadīm Al Quddūs even?
Yes, he isn’t a star as Ronald Regan.
But he is a first class screenplay writer.
He can dream wonderfully.
He was one of the best dreamers in Ved Nagar Film Industry, Hollywood, Bollywood, Lollywood and Tollywood.
His screenplays were always stupendous hits.
After Salim Javed Al Nadīm Al Quddūs has also made a writer a star.*
Despite frantic and desperate attempts from Al Muħammad Al Qāsim, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus knew how obsessed Al Nadīm Al Quddūs was with her.
He deliberately chose to marry a gambling house hostess, a shill, from Las Vegas, Nevada.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus knew it was the only place she could impress the then successful screenplay writer of Ved Nagar Film Industry.
He could be a stepladder for her to fulfill her dreams.
She could easily make it with a dreamer.
The realists were not for her.
They love money/ career/life more than they love anything else.
Durgesh is a realist.
Yes, he is a dreamer too.
But he is a realist dreamer.
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs wasn’t a realist at all.
He was only a dreamer.
He could be a stepladder for her.
He has his own mission.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus has her own mission.
Durgesh could help her in her mission, but not as a stepladder.
Durgesh is too prudent, too realistic.
It was a big mansion, Al Lubnā Al Qāsim lived in with her Bachhalyā Hindu husband, Pratāp Bachhalyā.
The house was one of the show places of Ved Nagar.
It had side porches, spacious grounds, shade trees, lawns, summerhouses, terraces, winding walks and swimming pools.
It was a vast exquisite dwelling.
It showed, rather exhibited, the multi millions Pratāp Bachhalyā and his extremely beautiful wife, Al Lubnā Al Qāsim, possessed.
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī turned my limousine in at the driveway.
Together with the big garage, the driveway was itself magnificent.
The hard surfaced driveway cut through in a businesslike straight line past the winding walks that followed the contours of the terraced grounds.
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī, the ambitious sister of Al Muħammad Al Qāsim, now a successful lawyer herself, stopped my limousine.
She rang the bell second time before we heard confident steps, knees, elbows and palms, and then the door was opened by extremely beautiful Al Lubnā Al Qāsim and Pratāp Bachhalyā themselves.
Al Lubnā Al Qāsim smiled at her elder sister.
She was their lawyer despite she was an integral part of HVS Law Internationals now.
The Al Qāsims still had their faith in their own blood?
I didn’t know.
Al Lubnā Al Qāsim was similarly on her knees and elbows as her elder sister, Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī, was.
Pratāp Bachhalyā was fucking Al Lubnā Al Qāsim from her gorgeous behind as I was fucking Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī.
It was Ved Nagar.
Nonstop sophisticated fucking was entirely legal and normal here.
It was in India, but it was a largely privileged Global City, rather Inter Universal to be more correct and more specific.
“Welcome,” Pratāp Bachhalyā and Al Lubnā Al Qāsim smiled, “Come in, please.”
“Bhābhījān, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus, Al Nadīm Al Quddūs Bhāījān, Al Zakiyah Al Qāsim and Vikram Bachhalyā…”
Al Lubnā Al Qāsim interrupted Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī in her mid sentence.
“They all have already come. You are rather late.”*
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī and I followed Al Lubnā Al Qāsim and Pratāp Bachhalyā.
The room we entered in, was thoroughly in keeping with the rest of the house.
It was a large spacious library.
Both Al Lubnā Al Qāsim and her husband, Pratāp Bachhalyā, were great believers in reading and keeping themselves update.
So were Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī and I.
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī was not my live in relationship partner exactly.
She was my friend and sister in law, my Salhaj, actually.
Yet, we fucked now openly.
Even her husband appreciated our exquisite fucking.
The entire Al Qāsim sisters were thoroughly devastating Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān Beauties.
I smiled at Pratāp Bachhalyā.
“You are one of the luckiest men, Pratāp. Your wife is really a devastating Musalmān Beauty. Congratulations.”
Pratāp Bachhalyā smiled graciously.
“Thank you very much.”
In the center of the library, there was a massive mahogany table.
There were three huge table lamps on the table.
The shades were some four feet in diameter at the bottom.
They were composed of heavy leather.
The clustered lamps on the interior poured fourth illumination upon the huge table and sprayed light out through the openings in the tops of the shades.
Six chairs had been drawn up at the table.
Three of them were occupied.
The fourth was evidently occupied by Al Lubnā Al Qāsim and Pratāp Bachhalyā.
Evidently, they were fucking on the fourth chair, as Al Zakiyah Al Qāsim and Vikram Bachhalyā were still fucking on the third.
The fifth chair was occupied by Al Safiyah Al Ghaus.
The last sixth chair was occupied by Al Nadīm Al Quddūs.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus and Al Nadīm Al Quddūs were also husband and wife.
Yet they were sitting on separate chairs fully clothed.
“Hey,” Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī laughed at them, “aren’t you too husband and wife?”
“Sure we are.” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs said curtly, “But I am neither Vikram Bachhalyā nor Pratāp Bachhalyā. I am Al Nadīm Al Quddūs. Remember?”
Vikram Bachhalyā fucking Al Zakiyah Al Qāsim and Pratāp Bachhalyā fucking Al Lubnā Al Qāsim laughed.
Both the younger sisters of Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī, Al Zakiyah Al Qāsim and Al Lubnā Al Qāsim laughed too.
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs was shamelessly not embarrassed.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus looked shameful of herself.
“Sorry, Al Hudā , your cousin is a finicky. He doesn’t care ever even a bit how embarrassed and shameful I am feeling myself, as if my husband has died or divorced me already. His backward morals…”
“Backward morals hell,” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs said curtly, “I am not an ever sexy Hindu. And you knew it very well before you married me. Didn’t you?”
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
“Don’t want to tell me?” Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī watched me cunningly.
She wrapped her extremely beautiful nude legs around my nude Hindu male waist.
I found myself penetrating Hudā more,
“Well, I asked Muħammad bin Qāsim a few questions in order to get the picture.”
“And then?” Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī smiled.
I too smiled niftily.
“Then I told your foolish cousin to go to hell. I hate blackmailers.”
“Now, what is your legal opinion?”
“Well, well, well.” Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī laughed, “Don’t tell me you really need that. Everyone says you are a legal wizard in almost every country’s penal code.”
“A second opinion should always be taken, Hudā darling. Sometimes we are overconfident and consequently we overlook some vital point thereof.”
“I don’t think my over ambitious cousin, Muħammad bin Qāsim, has a leg to stand on legally. He certainly wanted to score on Ruqayyah Muħammad Åbdullah when he sent his agent to her. But it was unfortunate for Muħammad bin Qāsim that Ruqayyah Muħammad Åbdullah had her account in HVSI Bank. His contract lapsed five months ago.”
“You are right.”
“I think there has been an abandonment of the premises.” Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī smiled gravely squeezing the entire length and thickness of my Uncut Hindu Penis contracting her vaginal muscles, “I think there has been a termination of the lease by a mutual implied consent.”
“I don’t think the particular lease in question permits your over smart cousin, Muħammad bin Qāsim, to cure his default in the payment of rent, even if there hasn’t been any abandonment or mutual termination by implied consent.” I said gravely.
“And suppose, Muħammad bin Qāsim goes to court?”
“Against me? Against HVSI? I don’t think he’s a fool enough to do so.”
“But if he is?”
“Then we can lick your cousin.”
I smiled meaningfully, and kept fucking her, without answering.
“Go ahead,” Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī said, “Won’t you let even me know of what you really are planning to do? You are not only a barrister; you are a businessman as well. Besides, you have a large number of the best legal brains of the time under HVS Law Internationals. It all helped you building a most successful financial empire too, as well as a spiritual empire, a Sex Empire and a political empire too.”*
I smiled sumptuously.
“Well, of course, it depends somewhat on the amount of opposition we meet, whether Muħammad bin Qāsim is simply running a naked bluff or whether he is willing to spend some money to try and hold us up.”
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī watched me scrutinizing.
“I think I know my cousin enough, at least to know that he’d spend some money to try and hold us up.”
“In that case, he’d lose his money too, as well as the case.” I announced firmly.
“You’ll see to it?”
“I’ll see to it. You’re damn right.”
“Allah bless the damnfool Muħammad bin Qāsim.”
I winked at her and increased my pace.
We enjoyed our lovemaking silently for some time.
Then I said.
“I keep so many firms of confidential investigators under retainer. Whenever a thing of this sort crops up, I try to find out something of the nature of the person I’m dealing with.”
Hudā deliberately kept silence.
Muħammad bin Qāsim, her cousin was foolish, she knew.
But he was such a fool that he would fight a court case against HVSI, and me she didn’t know.
I never lost a case, she knew.
HVSI, under my Life Chairmanship enjoyed the same reputation.
Well, let the idiot learn the hard way.
What the hell she could do?
When even Al Zakāt Al Qāsim couldn’t explain him that, I was insurmountable, let him learn the hard way, himself.
I allowed her enough time to digest what I said.
Then I said.
“Ruqayyah Muħammad Åbdullah did the right thing to retain you in the matter, Hudā. I’ve too many cases involving the life and death of so many Musalmān damsels in distress. I might don’t have enough time to represent her in this matter. However, we can still discuss it every now and then, and you can get my guidance even whenever it’s needed.”
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī nodded.*
I went on.
Hudā watched me appreciatively.
Of course, she hadn’t taken the five hundred dollars Muħammad bin Qāsim had sent to her so shrewdly.
He couldn’t dare to take advantage of Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah so cleverly.
Both of them daringly try to deceive her.
It was the building of HVSI Bank.
As though her entrance had been an anticipated signal, a man in the dark blue pin stripe single breasted took from his breast pocket a leather wallet.
The wallet had worn shiny from much use.
She knew that man.
“Be aware of this young man, Bājī.” Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah had said, “He is Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand. He is the real brain behind the meteoric success of Al Qāsim Rolling, Casting and Engineering Company. There are rumors now that he is the next managing director of Al Qāsim Rolling, Casting and Engineering Company. Al Muħammad Al Qāsim deliberately planned to marry his daughter, Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim, to Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand. He is Al Muħammad Al Qāsim’s eldest sister’s son.”
It was an act however hopefully deceiving Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand.
She wasn’t certain however that it would.
The Hindus are very shrewd.
Mahā Bhārat had already made them shrewder than the non-Hindus.
Durgesh is the shrewdest man she has ever known in the entire history of humankind.
He is incredible.
He is a miracle.
Sometimes she doubts even whether whatever she hears of Durgesh is really true.
Aren’t Hindus experts in spreading rumors benevolent to themselves?
The line before the teller’s window shuffled slowly forward.
She was looking up at the clock, from time to time, in the manner of one who was accustomed to devote an increasing amount of mental energy necessarily to rearranging the pattern of life, yet still finds the responsibility too great a strain.
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand, in the blue pin stripe, moved up.
He was a cheerful faced young man.
She could easily have been deceived by his harmless, confidence generating appearance if Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah hadn’t warned her already.
Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah was very smart.
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand was in his early thirties.
Or, at least it was what he looked.
Durgesh also looked in his early thirties always.
Yet, he claims to be sixty-three himself.
Is their claim of truthfulness of Eīshān Vigyān really true?
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand was wide-awake.
A keen student of character, such as Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah and Durgesh were, would have classified Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand as a savage, vicious little fighter who was capable even to stand up in an aggressive toe-to-toe slugging match, yet even then he’d wait for the opportunity he wanted, then be quick to seize the advantage.
That’s why he was so successful.
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand was one of the persons that would ruthlessly exterminate his opponent if his opponent ever went down.
But he was even capable never to run for cover if his opponent didn’t go down.
Yet, both of them never used these wonderful skills of them to harm the persons who were good.
They gave themselves every advantage, specializing in gouging and kicking the bad persons even below the belt, remorselessly.
That was the mystery of their meteoric incredulous success.
HVSI trained its members similarly always.
It never compromised with the evil doers.
Her subconscious mind again saved her.
And she thought she was all-alert now.
“You can’t double up this way. Get back behind me at the end of the line.”
Now it was getting slightly harsh as she found it necessary to cope with more and more annoying factors in life.
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand smiled confidently, triumphantly somewhat.
“I’m an agent for Muħammad bin Qāsim. This is five months’ deferred drilling payments under our oil lease on your property at Ved Nagar. Sign this receipt, please. Right here on the dotted line. Here’s a pen.”
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand whipped a receipt book from his pocket.
“Smart strategy. Isn’t it Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand? After showing absolutely no interest at all for complete five months, Muħammad bin Qāsim deputes his Hindu Jījū, his over smart Hindu brother in law, the next managing director of Al Qāsim Rolling, Casting and Engineering Company, Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand, to renew the lease in this way, in front of these valuable witnesses. Whose idea it was? Not Muħammad bin Qāsim’s I think. It must be your own suggestion to the damnfool. Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim requested you to help her foolish brother? How the hell a Vedic Monotheist Hindu can regret to his extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān wife? I sympathize with you, Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand.”
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand smiled.
“Umm-Al-Åālmīn, I’m sorry. But I think you can understand my predicament.”
“Love Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim very much?”
“Very much.” Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand smiled unashamedly.
“You idiot, her beauty is actually in your brain. Everyone isn’t as crazy of her, as you are.”
“You are doing it to prove that Al Qāsim Rolling, Casting and Engineering Company need you more than you need Al Qāsim Rolling, Casting and Engineering Company.” Ruqayyah Muħammad Åbdullah charged Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand.
“Even if you are right, why shouldn’t I do it?”
“Muħammad bin Qāsim has abandoned the property.”
“Oh, no. He hasn’t.”
“I’m making the payment covering deferred drilling. A hundred dollars a month. Isn’t that right?”
“That’s the rate only, you over smart. He had to pay it every month, however, if he wanted to hold the property.”
“Oh, no, Umm-Al-Åālmīn,” Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand cooed very respectfully, “the lease provided that Muħammad bin Qāsim, my sālā, must pay at that rate every month to keep his drilling rights. Yet there’s another paragraph too that provided that any covenant of any sort in which either party has been in default can be fully performed by the party obligated, at any time within six months, unless in the meantime the lease has been terminated by written notice. You’d better read your lease.”*
The line moved forward.
“Don’t take it.”
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand smiled.
“I want a receipt.”
“No, but I think you are that honest, Umm-Al-Åālmīn.”
“Of course, I’m that honest. But as a policy, I’m honest with the honest persons only. My Hindu Live in Relationship Partner, Durgesh, is annoyed if I were ever impractical enough to be honest with dishonest ones. ”
“That’s why you sold your property to HVSI even while it was under lease to Al Qāsim Rolling, Casting and Engineering Company?”
“A property that was not paying any money to us.” Ruqayyah Muħammad Åbdullah amended Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand curtly, “You stopped paying rent. Moreover, there weren’t any drilling activities for five continuous months. Why the hell shouldn’t we sell it if we get an excellent price for it?”
“The property was not sold to get the excellent price.” Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand laughed, “It was sold to provide optimum money to your cousin, Al Tihārat Al Islam, so that she could move in the high society of Ved Nagar to get an appropriate husband for her.”
“I see. You have investigated it fully? And when your dishonest Musalmān sālā, Muħammad bin Qāsim, learned the property has been sold, he has managed to depute you to get for him any share of the sale if he can?”
“Umm-Al-Åālmīn, that’s called business, not dishonesty.”
“The law doesn’t agree with you.”
“On the contrary, the law doesn’t agree with you, Umm-Al-Åālmīn. You signed even the papers two weeks ago without giving any legal notice to Al Qāsim Rolling, Casting and Engineering Company. Didn’t you?”
“We own the property, my boy.” Ruqayyah Muħammad Åbdullah said patronizingly, “We can sell it anytime to anyone whenever we damn please. Go and try to renew your lease with the new owner of the property, if you can. As far as we are concerned your foolish Musalmān sālā Muħammad bin Qāsim abandoned it since five months with no drilling activities whatsoever and not paying any rent for the lease.”
“Does the new owner of the property know about the lease on it?”
“Well, Mr. Muħammad bin Qāsim doesn’t care anything about it. This is five months’ back rent at one hundred dollars a month―deferred drilling payments. Our lease is with you. You can square things with the other people.”
“If you think I’d accept it, you are crazy.”
“Why won’t you accept it?”
“You know very well. The property is sold since.”
“HVSI has bought it?”
Almost reluctantly, the man in the blue pin stripe suit, Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand, took back the five hundred dollars.
“Would you mind giving me your card, gentleman? I may need a witness.”
The man scowled.
“It’s none of my business. Quit picking on a woman. Shame on you.”
The line moved up, paused, moved again.
“Just a card.” Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand smiled politely, “All I want is your name and address.”
The last man in the line hesitated a moment then produced a card.
Ved Prakāsh, the bank official, appeared.
He was summoned by the guard.
The guard had actually summoned the Branch Manager.
Coincidentally, Ved Prakāsh, the Financial Administrator of HVSI, was present there.
The Branch Manager was also with his superior.
Ved Prakāsh, the Financial Administrator of HVSI, sized up the faces of the three people that clustered about the window.
Then he asked patiently.
“What’s the trouble, Bhābhījān?”
“Forcing? What do you mean? Let me please handle it. You mustn’t be here in the line. You should have contacted with the manager, Bhābhī.”
“Well, I thought…”
“You please give me the money. We’d deposit it. You please go with the Branch Manager to his chamber. Dévésh, please escort her to your chamber. Will you please?”
“Send someone else. Call me if nobody else is available.”
“You must be careful, Bhābhī.”
“Yes, I think so, now. Please don’t tell your Bhaiyā that…”
“That’s impossible. I would personally escort you now to Bhaiyā himself. Let him discipline me too as well.”
“Sorry, Bhābhī, it’s all now beyond my hands.”
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan watched her father.
“Do you understand, Abbū, what you’ve done? Please, don’t stand there and strive for wit. Sit down. Put your mind into gear, if you can, and answer me rationally.”
“Madam President, Al Sadar Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat,” Imām Muħammad Ħasan addressed Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan sarcastically, “I know what I’ve done. I’ve told the truth as I see it. You may have more information than I do. Yet, you still lack in experiences. Wisdom isn’t generated from informations only. It needs experiences too to generate wisdom.”
“You think you are wiser, Abbū?” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled.
“Because I have more experiences than you do.”
“Experiences of what?”
“And you think instead of fighting with the bastards, I should protect myself?”
“Isn’t it needed for the mission itself? If they kill you, the mission would stop then and there. Wouldn’t it?”*
He was not only the office manager at Al Qāsim Rolling, Casting and Engineering Company, he was the husband of Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim, one of the daughters of Al Qāsim Al Muħammad, the managing director of the company as well.
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand glanced at the clock.
He was gratefully surprised.
“Thank you very much, Miss Åbbās.” He smiled.
Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim was her best friend’s younger sister.
“Not at all, Prañav. I realized these should be in the mail tonight.”
“That’s right.” Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand kept smiling, “Yet, not all our girls are that considerate. We certainly appreciate your loyalty to the job. It surprised me you were willing to waive overtime.”
“A good job is worth being loyal to.” Al Ħamd Al Åbbās also kept smiling, “There’s a rumor that you are our next managing director as Al Zakāt Al Qāsim has also decided to support you, instead of her younger brother, Muħammad bin Qāsim.”
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand laughed.
“That’s a rumor only. Never mind the rumors.”
“That’s the greatness you have, Prañav. You still work with us as the office manager.”
Al Ħamd Al Åbbās wished good night to him.
The rain had turned into a cold drizzle.
Reflected lights shimmered on the wet paving, wet tiling, of the parking lot.
Al Ħamd Al Åbbās hurried to her car, opened the door, got in, turned the key and stepped on the starter.
Sometimes the car took a little longer to start on cold, rainy nights.
Al Ħamd Al Åbbās wasn’t too concerned at first.
The only sound that emanated from underneath the hood was the grind of the battery-driven starter with no explosive response from the motor.
After the first minute and a half, she became distinctly worried.
She looked around at the now all but deserted parking place.
Only a few cars were spotted here and there.
Al Ħamd Al Åbbās suddenly realized her battery was not turning the motor as fast as it had been.
Her car seemed definitely stalled.
Suddenly a cheerfully competent voice said,
“What’s the matter? Having trouble?”
Al Ħamd Al Åbbās smiled.
It was the voice she was waiting for.
She rolled down the left window to inspect my smiling confident eyes.
My raincoat was belted about my trim waist.
Allah, how handsome the Hindu playboy is.
Of course, he is thirty-three.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is right.
“I seem to having trouble with my motor.” Al Ħamd Al Åbbās smiled seductively at me.
The multi zillionaire.
“Better let the battery rest for a minute,” I said, “You are not doing any good, just grinding away at it. Let me take a look.”
Al Ħamd Al Åbbās smiled.
She thanked Allah silently.
That was what she wanted.
If her scheme only worked…
She controlled herself.
Control your body language, idiot.
Al Ħamd Al Åbbās admonished herself.
I stepped to the side of the motor, raised the hood adeptly, and plunged my head and shoulders inside.
After a moment, I emerged and said.
“Watch my right hand. When I wave it, press the starter. When I move it down sharply, stop. Be sure the ignition key is turned to the ‘on’ position. All ready?”
Al Ħamd Al Åbbās nodded gratefully, yet impishly somewhat.
I’ll fuck you tonight.
How, the hell, longer would I wait?
You act too blind to my incredible Musalmān beauty.
I can’t bear it any more.
You are insulting me.
Once more, my head and shoulders vanished from sight.
Al Ħamd Al Åbbās watched my right hand.
It waved gently, and Al Ħamd Al Åbbās pressed the starter.
Almost at once my hand was plunged downward in a swiftly emphatic gesture.
Al Ħamd Al Åbbās took her foot off the starter.
I lowered the hood of the car, walked around and shook my head.
“No spark.” I said.
Al Ħamd Al Åbbās was praying her Allah that I don’t find she has already taken a part out from the distributor.
“What does it mean?” she asked innocently.
“Something’s definitely wrong with your electrical system. There’s no use running down your battery by using the starter. You’re just not getting current to the spark plugs. I’m sorry there’s not much I can do in the rain. With the hood up, water keeps dripping down on the distributing system. That’s probably what the matter with it is anyhow. I think you’d better leave it right here tonight. By tomorrow the rain will be over, the sun will be shining and the car will start right off.”
“But,” Al Ħamd Al Åbbās said, “I…”
My smile was engaging.
“Exactly, I have my car here. I’ll be glad to take you home.”
Al Ħamd Al Åbbās thanked Allah very much, yet silently.
Her scheme had worked ultimately.*
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan watched her father scrutinizing him.
“Who do you love more, Abbū? Your daughter or the mission?”
“Both.” Imām Muħammad Ħasan said bluntly, “I can’t sacrifice one for the other, and won’t ever.”
“If you are a true Musalmān you should be prepared always to sacrifice everything fī sabīlillah.”
“Not, if I can manage aqāmat-e-Dīnil Qayyamati without sacrificing anything. No.”
“Ħazrat Ibrāhīmå were asked to sacrifice his son.”
“Durgesh interprets it in a different manner.”
“I don’t think so.”
Imām Muħammad Ħasan didn’t say anything.
“You tried to defy me this day? On this one day when my prestige is such that I can pluck you out of the Council Chamber and arrest you, with no one daring to protest?”
“I can sacrifice myself, not you.”
“Abbū, I’m safer than even you realize it.”
“Not all of them.”
“Even then, most of them.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan said, “Moreover, the Pseudo Musalmīn that aren’t cuckolded even yet, are under constant nonstop surveillance. They’d be arrested immediately if they even tried to do anything mischievous. Yazīd Malåūn won’t be allowed to counter revolt once more ever now.”
“But my seven movements Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club, Cuckold Your Musalmān husband, Ashvinātam Gangbang Club, Al Jihād fil Durgesh fī sabīlillāh, Jet Musalmān Beauties Squad, Durgesh Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ Sex Therapy and Durgesh Åāýéshah Siddīqah Social Service, have left nothing for them to offer to Hindus.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled cunningly, “Your daughter wasn’t born yesterday, Abbū. Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah is the permanent solution to snatch away every weapon from the wretched Pseudo Musalmīn Årab Burdāfaroshs. They won’t have anything to offer to Hindus ever after the permanent establishment of Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah.”*
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan laughed.
“You think they were morons?”
“I can’t believe you, Naåīmah.”
“You are furious, Abbū.”
“Yes, even if they were Pseudo Musalmīn, they did it for their subsistence and for their subsistence only. India was Soné kī Chiđiyā, the Golden Bird then. Årab lacked the means of subsistence in those days incredibly. The only product they had, in even more than abundance, was their incredibly extremely beautiful women, nothing else. Their economy depended on the trading of their extraordinary Beauties. They didn’t have another option.”
I smiled the appreciation, at being caught walking the house naked, the fact that obviously everyone heard our lovemaking and the matter of fact way Nishāt Nazli had just sucked my Uncut Hindu Cock clean in front of Zubaydah Bābar and Jamīlah Aurangzeb’s daughter, Bābarah Åālamgīr.
The possibility that, Nasīm Muåāwiyah wasn’t as innocent as everyone thought of her, had made everyone at least somewhat cautious of her.
Al Zakāt Al Qāsim smiled ironically.
Al Zakāt Al Qāsim smiled condescendingly, sneeringly,
“Listen Al Ħamd Al Åbbās, I’ve done enough for you. Don’t say I can’t recognize my best friend too. I don’t want to make any trouble, but you and I have certain things to discuss and we’d better talk them over quietly.”
Al Zakāt Al Qāsim laughed.
“You know, my Ammī is a trillionaire. I am myself a multi-millionaire at least. I don’t need your money, even a damn cent.”
“I merely want to discuss the accident with you. I’m a sophisticated highly educated young lady, you know. Your friends are with you. Your Vedic Monotheist Hindu lover/Live in Relationship Partner is with you. You don’t need to be afraid of me, even a bit.”*
I smiled at Hudā.
“I’m glad now you are a successful defense attorney, Hudā.”
“Muħammad Ůsmān is creating problems once more?”
“Not directly, indirectly.”
“Yes, he wanted to sell it to HVSI. We didn’t need it, so he gifted it to Ruqayyah Muħammad Åbdullah. He said he wanted to serve humanity more ardently. He didn’t have proper time to take care of that island. There were some gamblers, terrorists, Criminal/Criminal minded Musalmīn who were after to misuse it.”
“Well, forget it. Ruqayyah has sold it now successfully to HVSI. Prakāsh has some planning in developing the island into a profitable investment. I’ve approved the purchase already.”
I smiled too.
“Don’t worry. I know how to keep Muħammad Åbdullah in his pants. I didn’t purchase it then, because Muħammad Åbdullah is perfectly capable in dealing with the terrorists, gamblers, and Criminal/Criminal minded Musalmīn that were interested in misusing that island.”
“You are right.”
“There you are.”
“Muħammad bin Qāsim, is playing some game now, as soon as he knew you have purchased the island.”
“I see.” Hudā said gravely.
“Muħammad bin Qāsim warned me, that if I wanted to get a good title to the island I’d have to make some arrangements with him. He had an oil lease on it and he was intending to start drilling. He said he took it for granted that being the utmost successful businessman of the entire history of humankind so far, I wouldn’t care to buy an island and then have him put some oil derricks of Al Qāsim Rolling, Casting and Engineering Company, in it.”
“I can’t imagine the damnfool talking to you that way.” Hudā smiled, “Doesn’t he know how you deal with such damnfools?”
I smiled cunningly.
“Something like that.”
“So Muħammad bin Qāsim misjudged Prakāsh?”
“That’s right. And consequently, he has misjudged me too. After all, I’m the real elder brother of Prakāsh. Am I not?”
I kept smiling.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan watched his daughter patiently.
“You know better, Naåīmah. I oppose Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah only. It doesn’t mean I support Yazīd Malåūn lånat ålayhi. He revived the Pre Islamic Jāhiliyat. Muħsin-e-Insāniyat, Ħuzūrs, sacrificed his whole life. Kħulfa-e-Rāshidūnrz too sacrificed their whole life for Ummat-e-Muslimah to get rid of Pre Islamic Jāhiliyat and Årab Burdāfaroshs. The damnfool Yazīd Malåūn lånat ålayhi could never understand what theyrzn had achieved. He fought for the traditional kingdom of his own clan. Lånat ålayhi the damnfool.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan said patiently.
“Abu Sufyān couldn’t adjust ever with the paramount leadership of Ħuzūrs. The entire conduct of Ħazrat Muåāwiyahrzu confirms the conclusion. He had always reported even every infinitesimal mistake Saifullah Ħazrat Kħālid bin Walīd razī Allāhu tålā ånahu did. He did it deliberately to widen the gap between Ħazrat Fārūq-e-Åāzamrzu and Saifullah Ħazrat Kħālid bin Walīd razī Allāhu tålā ånahu.”*
Imām Muħammad Ħasan sighed.
“That’s why I do agree with Durgesh’s Kālchakr Theory, his Time Cycle Theory, I mean.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan sighed again.
“I think even Ħazrat Muåāwiyahrzu appointed such pseudo Mullahs and Maulavīs. How the hell otherwise he could successfully revolt against Ħazrat Ålīrzu?” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan retorted, “He himself acknowledged that he was the first king in Islam as if Islam allowed the kingdom of human beings on humankind.”
“They brought even Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånhā and Ummil Mominīn Ħazrat Åāýéshah Siddīqah razī Allāhu tålā ånhā against each other for their own vested vile personal political interests.” Imām Muħammad Ħasan retorted scornfully, “It wasn’t an easy achievement for the Pseudo Musalmīn. How could they do this miracle, it deserves to be studied deeply.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan said appreciating me, almost in trance,
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Durgesh Sidrah: One More Mastermind–1
There had been less traffic than I had anticipated.
I parked my car in front of the building of the court.
There was a chance that the case Hudā was fighting might occupy the entire morning and perhaps a part of the afternoon, would have been disposed of sooner than contemplated.
Hudā, therefore, would be free sooner.
I walked the wide corridor to the swinging mahogany doors with the Judge’s name on them and entered the courtroom.
The trial was in progress.
Hudā, obviously self-conscious, was standing by the defense counsel table.
She was apparently at a loss as to what to say next.
The witness, standing in the witness box, was smiling confidently at Hudā.
She was waiting for the next question somewhat patronizingly.
The jury seemed slightly bored.
I eased my body into a seat at the rear of the courtroom.
“So, Imāmzādī Almās,” Hudā asked, “It was dark. Wasn’t it?”
Imāmzādī Almās Kaif, the witness, smiled at Hudā,
“What was dark?”
“The night was dark, but the street was lighted.” Imāmzādī Almās Kaif, the witness, smiled at Hudā, again.
“What do you mean, it was lighted?”
“There was a light at the corner.”
“And that light gave you sufficient illumination?”
“It gave the street sufficient illumination.”
“To the street, not to you?”
“I don’t need it.”
Hudā observed the witness.
She was dressed in such a manner that no one could say, she was an Imāmzādī.
She was looking a film star herself.
“Yes! So I can see.” Hudā commented smiling admiringly at her.
“Thank you.” Imāmzādī Almās Kaif, the witness, smiled back at Hudā.
“My pleasure! So there was enough light there so that you could see?”
“There was enough light there so that I could see. Yes.”
“What did you see?”
“I saw the defendant, Naåeemah Waħāb.”
“What did she do?”
“She was taking a suitcase out of the back of the car.”
“Oh, so you saw her taking out a suitcase?”
I was suddenly distracted.
The young girl sitting next to me suddenly put her right hand on my left thigh.
I was startled.
She was in a burqā.
I looked at her.
But, she was looking at the witness.
She pretended that it was her unconscious act.
“Then?” Hudā asked the witness.
“Then the defendant, Naåeemah Waħāb, put the suitcase down on the ground, bent over it, opened the suitcase, took out something―”
“Yes, yes,” Hudā interrupted impatiently, “You’ve told us all that before.”
The young girl in the burqā put her shawl on my lap.
And then she unzipped me.
I was startled again.
The girl must be mad.
In the courtroom, filled with spectators so heavily?
Was she so ravenous?
“What are you doing?” I asked her under my hot breaths.
“Enjoy yourself and let me enjoy too.” She said under her breaths too, and her hand entered my underwear.
“Allah Allah Kħair Sallah!”
“Who are you?”
“I love you.”
“Shut up. Let me enjoy if you don’t want to.”
“Are you mad?”
“Yes! For you. Otherwise I would not have come from Mumbai.”
The girl had taken out my Hindu Penis till now and was playing with it, hungrily.
“Sālī! someone will see.”
“Let the someone do anything whatsoever.”
“I invite you for dinner, tonight.”
“Leave it now.”
“Well, you asked me what I saw.” The witness, Imāmzādī Almās Kaif, was saying, “I thought you wanted me to tell you again.”
“No.” Hudā contradicted Imāmzādī Almās Kaif, “Not what you surmised the defendant, Naåeemah Waħāb, was doing. I want to know what you actually saw she was doing.”
Imāmzādī Almās Kaif, the witness, adjusted herself.
“I saw her opening the compartment of the back of the car. I saw the defendant, Naåeemah Waħāb, took out a suitcase. I saw her put it on the ground. I saw her open the suitcase.”
Suddenly, I stiffened.
The girl, playing with my Hindu Penis, squeezed it meaningfully.
“Hi, what are you after?” I asked her under my breath.
“I can’t leave the courtroom.”
“The defense lawyer is my friend.”
“You fuck her?”
I smiled at her.
“How old are you?”
“Can you think anything except sex?”
“Then you are not my man.”
“Sorry, I disappointed you.”
“You did not say on Internet that you don’t love sex.”
“I love sex, but―what? On Internet?”
“Of course! On Internet.”
“The defendant, Naåeemah Waħāb, had her back to you.” Hudā asked the witness harshly, “Had she not?”
“She had. Yes.”
“Then you couldn’t have seen the defendant open the suitcase.”
Imāmzādī Almās Kaif, the witness, collected herself again.
“I saw the defendant, Naåeemah Waħāb, bend over the suitcase.” She said curtly, “I saw her hands on the lid of the suitcase. I saw the lid of the suitcase come up. I don’t know how else to describe it.”
“You couldn’t see what the defendant, Naåeemah Waħāb, took out. Could you?”
“No. That I couldn’t. Of course.” Imāmzādī Almās Kaif, the witness, admitted.
It was her first case here, at Jabalpur.
She bent over her laptop.
Her husband, Zāhid Waħāb came to her at once, obediently.
“Can I help you, dear?”
The girl in burqā, playing with my Hindu Penis, under her shawl, smiled ironically.
“Nice role for a Muslim husband.”
“What?” I looked at her.
“My husband is also obedient to me.”
“You are married?”
“Of course, I’m married. What do you think? I’m 27.”
My voice became somewhat impish.
“There are so many girls who are more than 27. Yet, they are not married.”
“Well, I’m not one of them.”
“Yes. I can see.”
She squeezed my penis.
“Want to pluck it out?”
“Your wife will kill me.”
“Otherwise, you would’ve plucked it out?”
She laughed and squeezed my Hindu Penis again.
She winked at me,
Ibtidāye ishq hai, rota hai kyā?
Aage aage dekhnā hotā hai kyā!”
Hudā played with her laptop aimlessly.
Apparently, she was thinking of some question she could ask the witness, Imāmzādī Almās Kaif.
The case was bad.
She was thinking some question that would not make her case worse.
Members of the jury looked at each other, at the clock, and then let their attention wander around the courtroom.
“At the time, you didn’t know who owned the car, did you?”
Hudā demanded of the witness.
“No, madam. How could I?”
“Don’t ask me questions. Only answer me.”
“Yes, madam! Sorry, madam!”
“When did you find out who owned the car?”
“After the defendant, Naåeemah Waħāb, had left I started wondering―”
“Never mind.” Hudā smiled at the witness, “Never mind what you were wondering at, neither what you thought. Tell us only when did you find out who owned the car.”
“When the police told me.”
“So you are testifying what the police told you?”
Public Prosecutor, Nādir Muħammad smiled at the judge.
“Objection, your honor!”
“It goes to the bias of the witness, your honor!” Hudā said gravely.
Judge Shrīkānt M. Āgnéý hesitated somewhat, and looked at the Public Prosecutor, Nādir Muħammad.
Public Prosecutor, Nādir Muħammad understood the situation.
“I withdraw my objection, your honor! If your honor permits it, the witness can answer the question.”
“Answer the question.” Judge Shrīkānt M. Āgnéý ruled.
“Not entirely unknown to you.”She squeezed my penis, suggestively, again.
“You are making me crazy to have you.”
“To fu*k me?”
“That’s what I want you to do. Go ahead. You are most welcome.” She laughed sweetly, lightly.
And squeezed my Hindu Penis again, meaningfully.
“You are making me hot.”
“Your reputation is that you are always hot with us Muslimahs.”She laughed sweetly, lightly, again.
Squeezed my penis again, too.
My penis was refusing me to be in my control any more.
It wanted, at least, to be in her immensely beautiful mouth, if not into her Muslimā Cunt.
“I’m not testifying what the Police told me.” Imāmzādī Almās Kaif, the witness, said.
“Then?” Hudā asked.
“I’m testifying to what I saw.”
“When the police told you, did you go to the police, or did they come to you?”
“I went to them. I saw the news on TV. I had to tell the police that I was a witness to that.”
“You saw your cousin, Katrina Kaif in nude?”
“With Durgesh in nude too.” Imāmzādī Almās Kaif, the witness, smiled mischievously.
“You are promoting Durgesh.” Hudā laughed somewhat, bowing respectfully o the court.
“Have you fucked Katrina Kaif?” The girl in burqā squeezed my penis again.
“She is the sexiest woman and you are the sexiest man. Why isn’t it possible?”
“Katrina Kaif is the sexiest woman in the show business.” I smiled at her.
She became alert.
“What do you mean?”
“Kħadeejah Muħammadis not in the show business.”
“I’m not too.”
“What?” I looked at her.
““I’m not too.” She repeated her words, emphasizing her every word.
“You are comparing yourself with Kħadeejah Muħammad?”
“Not in show business. In being sexy.”
“You don’t agree with FHM?”
“If its report is confined to the show business, I do agree.”
“And, if it isn’t?”
More Creative Adult Sex in English from Durgesh
1. Bahoo Bégum
30. Sālī, Ammījān!
44. Hell, I revolt
64. I live with him
More creative adult sex in Hindi/Urdu from Durgesh:
13. Eidul Fitr-1
Science Fictions from DSM Satyarthi:
17. Saamved: Mantr 1