Al Tawaħīd Al Muħammad Al Ħasan had been the Director of Security through all Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s Seven Movements.
It would certainly have been a backbreaking job if I were not fucking her constantly.
Al Tawaħīd Al Muħammad Al Ħasan enjoyed my Uncut Hindu Lund continuously constantly into her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot nonstop.
She never knew she needed sex that much with me.
Today almost entire Creations were against Pseudo Musalmīn terrorism.
They were killing the Pseudo Musalmīn terrorists everywhere openly attacking them.
Since Narendr Modi had become the Prime Minister of India, not even a single Pseudo Musalmān terrorist had succeeded in entering India.
Everyone of them was either killed on the spot when trying to enter, or worse.
S/he was arrested alive.
“Sit down, Saifunnisā.” Al Tawaħīd Al Muħammad Al Ħasan said, “Let’s keep this on a friendly basis if we can.”
Saifunnisā Al Islam hooked both her thumbs in her sash and remained standing.
“Friendly? With a traitor?”
Al Tawaħīd Al Muħammad Al Ħasan had anticipated it.
She pushed her beautiful nude Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān buttocks into my nude lap, swallowed my entire Uncut Hindu Lund into her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot and smiled patronizing Saifunnisā Al Islam.
“With an accused traitor.” She corrected her, “You are a Councilwoman. I’m sure you understand the wide difference between a traitor and an accused traitor. Don’t you?”*
Saifunnisā Al Islam watched Al Tawaħīd Al Muħammad Al Ħasan cunningly.
“Director of Security, Modern Democratic Årabia, you know very well that you haven’t come to the point where accusation, even by the Kħātoon-e-Jannat Hazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu Tåālā ånahā reincarnated, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, herself, is the equivalent of conviction. I trust you never do. Your job is to clear me if you can. You would do so now while no harm is done, except to my pride, rather than be forced to make it all a matter of a public trial. You hope I’m with you in this.”
Al Tawaħīd Al Muħammad Al Ħasan understood the situation perfectly she was dealing with.
Saifunnisā Al Islam wasn’t an ordinary Councilwoman of the House of the People of Modern Democratic Årabia.
She was a learned young woman.
It was not easy to deal with Saifunnisā Al Islam.
Yet, Al Tawaħīd Al Muħammad Al Ħasan herself wasn’t an ordinary young woman.
She wasn’t Director of Security, Modern Democratic Årabia, because she was the elder sister of Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan.
Al Tawaħīd Al Muħammad Al Ħasan had earned this prestigious post through her own hard work and achievements.
“Let’s not bother with ingratiation. You asked for it.” Al Tawaħīd Al Muħammad Al Ħasan said politely, yet authoritatively, “You had witnessed what happened even to Imām Muħammad Ħasan when he challenged the authority of Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan. Yet you did the same. Definitely you never expected you could get away with it.”*
Saifunnisā Al Islam smiled ironically.
“I thought we are in a democratic system.”
“Sure,” Al Tawaħīd Al Muħammad Al Ħasan herself said ironically too, “But you are against it. You want to fail our democracy.”
“That’s the accusation, I think.” Saifunnisā Al Islam again ridiculed Al Tawaħīd Al Muħammad Al Ħasan.
“You still think you can face the charges of treason against you?”
Saifunnisā Al Islam said contemptuously.
“I want to expose you all. No democracy is being practiced here. If it were democracy here really, you were not establishing Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah here.”
Al Tawaħīd Al Muħammad Al Ħasan smiled at Saifunnisā Al Islam ridiculing her.
“I hope you are intelligent enough to understand neither you have majority here, nor your supporters. The majority of Modern Democratic Årabia is not with you.”
“That’s what you think,”
“That’s what I know.” Al Tawaħīd Al Muħammad Al Ħasan smiled triumphantly confidently, “Even your Love Jihad has failed everywhere miserably. Each and every attempt of it is immediately detected everywhere before even a single success in it. The Pseudo Musalmīn culprits are losing their manhood forever as soon as they even imagine even to deceive the innocent non-Muslim girls. It’s not old times now. It’s Infinite BrāhmKalp, Sanā Kr’tyug. The sooner you understand the sooner you can save the manhood of the remaining Pseudo Musalmīn.”
“We refuse to let Yogi Āditýnāth be the Chief Minister of Uttar Pradesh.” Saifunnisā Al Islam said determinedly.
“Who are you to decide who will be the Chief Minister of Uttar Pradesh? Are you a citizen of India?” Al Tawaħīd Al Muħammad Al Ħasan looked at Saifunnisā Al Islam contemptuously.*
Yogi Bhāskarnāth was unable to understand how he could get rid of the ever-crazy Mujāhidāt that were having sex with him constantly on this or that pretext.
They just made him lie on his back undressed and straddled him one by one, fucking Yogi Bhāskarnāth despite his every effort to avoid it.
“We would never let you complete your Celibacy Practice, your so called Brahmcharý Sādhnā.” Al Jihad fil Islam said fucking Yogi Bhāskarnāth aggressively, “We don’t want another Yogi Āditýnāth.”
Yogi Bhāskarnāth could not do anything, except to lie there on his back and let them fuck him.
He understood actually, their Pseudo Musalmīn terrorist husbands had either lost their manhood completely, or losing their interest in sexual intercourse itself.
“Young ladies, you never understood our Celibacy Practice, our Brahmcharý Sādhnā.” Yogi Bhāskarnāth said, “You don’t want to let us become another Yogi Āditýnāth. But our Celibacy Practice, our Brahmcharý Sādhnā, doesn’t require other persons cooperation too. Even if you keep fucking us endlessly, our Celibacy Practice, our Brahmcharý Sādhnā, would never be discontinued. We aren’t having sex with you. You are having sex with us. We aren’t responsible for what you are doing with us. Our Celibacy Practice, our Brahmcharý Sādhnā, is discontinued only when we ourselves have sex with you.”*
Saifunnisā Al Islam looked at Al Tawaħīd Al Muħammad Al Ħasan.
“We aren’t fighting for democracy in Uttar Pradesh, India. We are fighting for Islam.”
“And Islam is against democracy?”
“Democracy isn’t Islam.” Saifunnisā Al Islam said curtly.
“On the contrary, Islam revived democracy in then Årab.” Al Tawaħīd Al Muħammad Al Ħasan squeezed my Uncut Hindu Lund inside her extremely beautiful, extremely lovely, extremely attractive, Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot. “Al Qur’an Al Karīm never claimed Islam was a new religion. It was the same religion Hindus call Hinduism, Hindutv, adjusted properly to suit then Årab environment.”
“I don’t agree with you.” Saifunnisā Al Islam said contemptuously, “You love Hindu Lund entirely unashamed of you. That’s why you are resorting to these un-Islamic philosophies.”
“And you don’t love Hindu Lund?”
“Never. I hate Hindu Lund instead, on the quite contrary.”
“And that’s why you yourself went to Durgesh and fucked him.” Al Tawaħīd Al Muħammad Al Ħasan laughed sarcastically.
“That’s not the same thing you do.” Saifunnisā Al Islam said scornfully, “We need money for our Al Jihad fil Islam. Durgesh is the utmost richest multi zillionaire of our times. He is a moron to think he can change us from an Islamist into a so-called humanist. We challenge him to do it with us. The fact is Durgesh isn’t changing us. Instead, the more Durgesh fuck us Mujāhidāt the more he is converted to Islam.”
“And that’s why you so called Mujāhidāt keep fucking Durgesh?”
“Why shouldn’t we?”
Al Tawaħīd Al Muħammad Al Ħasan smiled.
“I never said you shouldn’t. I said what you are doing is actually itself establishing Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah. Have you ever realized it?”
Saifunnisā Al Islam smiled cunningly.
“Keep living in fools’ paradise as much as you please, Director of Security, Modern Democratic Årabia. We aren’t doing any such thing. Nevertheless, if you really think we are too establishing your dream Ummat, Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah, why the hell you call me a traitor? Are we not doing the same thing you are doing either knowingly or unknowingly?”
Al Tawaħīd Al Muħammad Al Ħasan looked at me complaining.
“Durgesh, you’ve fucked these so called Mujāhidāt too much. They are capable to argue rationally too.”
I smiled cunningly.
“Well, you can’t blame me, Al Tawaħīd Al Muħammad Al Ħasan, they are too beautiful to resist. Aren’t they?”
“Damn you, Anant Muslimātchod Hindu Piyā.”
Saifunnisā Al Islam and I both laughed.
I looked at Al Tawaħīd Al Muħammad Al Ħasan gravely.
“Don’t blame me for it ever, Al Tawaħīd Al Muħammad Al Ħasan. I’d never stop it. Whatsoever the reason a woman has, or says to have, for having sex with me, the fact that she is having sex with me makes me her husband according to my morals.”
“We Hindus believe in Vivāhāshŧakam and Ashŧmaithunam. I think it’s more humane to believe in these two principles. If you don’t agree with me, try to convince me why isn’t it so.”*
Shankar Mahāpralayankar rose from the blackjack table, smiled all round, threw the pretty croupier a large tip, and pocketed twenty gold five hundred dollar chips.
Ten thousand dollars.
Not bad for a fast half hour’s work while Fātimah Al Wahāb was sucking his Uncut Hindu Lund.
Durgesh never appreciated Shankar Mahāpralayankar for humiliating Pseudo Musalmīn terrorists even.
Let him not.
The humiliation of Pseudo Musalmīn terrorists pleased Shankar Mahāpralayankar always.
Fātimah Al Wahāb was still sucking Shankar Mahāpralayankar’s Uncut Hindu Lund shamefully.
She couldn’t do anything.
Numerous females, houseladies of members of al-Qaeda, were forced to suck Uncut Hindu Lund publicly, not of Shankar Mahāpralayankar only, but other Hindus’ as well.
Shankar Mahāpralayankar and his followers were challenging not only Ayman al Zawahiri , his entire al-Qaeda instead.
Shankar Mahāpralayankar surveyed the crowded Las Vegas casino.
His dark eyes flicked back and forth amongst the assembled company.
The beautiful Musalmān houseladies in floral dresses exhibited surprising strength as their beautiful arms pulled firmly on the slot machines.
Florid faced couples, Hindu male Musalmān female strictly, none else, filled with excitement, picked up a fast eighty or ninety dollars at the roulette tables.
Strolling beautiful Musalmān houseladies of the Pseudo Musalmīn terrorists, blank eyes alert for the big spender Hindus.
The big spender Hindus themselves, in polyester leisure suits, screeched away in Middle American accents at the crap tables.
Shankar Mahāpralayankar smiled.
Las Vegas always amused him.
They always cooperated whenever Shankar Mahāpralayankar wanted to humiliate Pseudo Musalmīn terrorists publicly in this way.
The hustle and the bustle.
The win and the loss.
The total fantasy of it all.
Shankar Mahāpralayankar loved to fuck Musalmān houseladies of the criminal/criminal minded Pseudo Musalmīn and terrorists right from the beginning.
As soon as he was capable of having sex, he enjoyed it with them too much.
“Never!” Shankar Mahāpralayankar smiled cunningly even then.
“Stop it, I say,”
“You know why.”
“I don’t,” Shankar Mahāpralayankar said notoriously, smiling.
“Shankar Mahāpralayankar, no. I mean it, No!”
“Why not, you like it you say.”
“I don’t, I don’t. Oh, Shankar Mahāpralayankar, Ooooooh!”
It was always the same story.
No, Shankar Mahāpralayankar. Don’t do it, Shankar Mahāpralayankar. Don’t touch me there, Shankar Mahāpralayankar.
Yet, the story always had a happy ending.
As soon as Shankar Mahāpralayankar found the magic button, the Musalmān houseladies of the criminal/criminal minded Pseudo Musalmīn and terrorists stopped protesting.
The beautiful nude Musalmān legs opened in invitation and they hardly noticed when Shankar Mahāpralayankar’s immensely experienced fie upstanding Uncut Hindu Lund penetrated their Musalmān Choots
Shankar Mahāpralayankar, the Muslimātchod Hindu, was his nickname.
It was true that after Durgesh, Shankar Mahāpralayankar was the second ever successful young Hindu man that had screwed more Musalmān ass than anyone else, including Musalmīn even.
Even the Musalmīn were jealous of Durgesh and Shankar Mahāpralayankar.
Shankar Mahāpralayankar smiled when the Pseudo Musalmīn praised Durgesh in comparison with him.
Al Åbd Al Wahāb was the first Shankar Mahāpralayankar fucked in his ass when he praised Durgesh in comparison with him.
“Sālé, praising your Hindu father? Or your Hindu Jījū? Durgesh is fucking both your Ammīs and sisters now.”
Al Åbd Al Wahāb cried helplessly.
“Because you forced me to request Durgesh to fuck them. Otherwise, you and your ever communal Hindus had molested them. Neither I had another option, nor did my Musalmān houseladies.”
“How do you feel when you lick the optimum fucked Musalmān Cunts and Musalmān ass of your beautiful Musalmān houseladies, Al Åbd Al Wahāb?” Shankar Mahāpralayankar pushed his Uncut Hindu Lund again entirely into the ever feminine Musalmān ass of Al Åbd Al Wahāb.
Al Åbd Al Wahāb was feeling himself immensely humiliated.
Yet he couldn’t do anything.
Shankar Mahāpralayankar was more powerful and he had every evidence against him.
If the police had those evidences, Al Åbd Al Wahāb was certainly hanged till his death.
He never wanted to die.
What’s wrong even if Durgesh is fucking his entire beautiful Musalmān houseladies?
Wasn’t that they themselves wanted to?
Abbū, Al Qahar Arraħīm Al Wahāb, was a devoted Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān.
Yet, what happened with him?
Osama bin Laden was killed but Abbū was captured by Shankar Mahāpralayankar, himself.
Osama bin Laden was born on 10 March 1957.
Abbū was entire ten years older than Osama bin Laden.
Shankar Mahāpralayankar deliberately captured Abbū alive and blackmailed his family and followers to immense degradation and humiliations.
It was still continued.
“Shankar Mahāpralayankar, no!”
“Aw, c’mon, Al Qamar Annisā’. Let me just put it there, just next to you. I won’t put it in, I promise I won’t!”
“But Shankar Mahāpralayankar!”
“There. I told you. Doesn’t that feel good?”
“Mmmm, I guess. But don’t move, promise you won’t move.”
“’Course not. I just want to be next to you, that’s all.” Gently Shankar Mahāpralayankar eased his Hindu prick inside her Musalmān Cunt.
“What are you doing?” Al Qamar Annisā’ squealed.
“Just getting comfortable,” Shankar Mahāpralayankar replied, easing his hand down between her legs, feeing for the magic button.
Al Qamar Annisā’ gave a little sigh.
Shankar Mahāpralayankar had found it.
“Feel nice?” Shankar Mahāpralayankar inquired solicitously.
“Oh, yes, Shankar Mahāpralayankar. Oh, yes.”
Keeping his fingers on target, Shankar Mahāpralayankar started to screw Al Qamar Annisā’ properly.*
Al Qamar Annisā’ didn’t object.
Instead, she smiled cunningly.
She wasn’t stupid enough not to know what Shankar Mahāpralayankar was doing.
After all Al Qamar Annisā’ was a mujāhidah of al-Qaeda.
She understood more than even the other members of al-Qaeda suspected.
She knew it wasn’t any Al Jihad fil Islam at all.
It was an outright Årab Imperialism.
If it was really an Al Jihad fil Islam, why the Islamic State of Al Baghdadi is trying to defeat al-Qaeda in Pseudo Islamic terrorism?
Right from the moment Ħazrat Muåāwiyah started to send strategic news of Al Jihad fil Islam to the Kħalīfah, Caliph in power those days, the downfall of Islam and the rise of Pseudo Islam had started.
No, Ħazrat Muåāwiyah never reported anything wrong.
He reported actually what Saifullah Ħazrat Kħālid bin Walīd did.
Yet, Ħazrat Muåāwiyah never reported in detail what positive Saifullah Ħazrat Kħālid bin Walīd did.
He reported in quite detail what wrong Saifullah Ħazrat Kħālid bin Walīd ever did.
It was never a wrong reporting.
Yet, it was never an entirely unbiased reporting too.
It was a very clever, very shrewd strategic reporting that ultimately resulted in the removal of Saifullah Ħazrat Kħālid bin Walīd.
Shankar Mahāpralayankar knew how to please a woman that was so devoted to her cause.
He had been taught by Durgesh himself how to find the magic button.
It was a lesson Shankar Mahāpralayankar was forever grateful for.
It gave him an edge over the other Hindus.
Right from the beginning of the era when Ħazrat Muåāwiyah was coming into power, it was a game of cats, dogs and rats, whether strategic or entirely unashamed open.
No, Ħazrat Muåāwiyah himself never promoted the persons who were involved in kidnapping and selling of beautiful Musalmān houseladies to Hindus.
The Hindus were living in India that was called Golden Bird then.*
Shankar Mahāpralayankar was proud of himself for being at least second Hindu the beautiful Musalmān houseladies of criminal/criminal minded Pseudo Musalmīn and terrorists were crazy of.
Durgesh was the first, no doubt.
Nevertheless, his morals were somewhat different from Durgesh.
Even numerous of his Hindu friends and followers thought all there was to screwing beautiful Musalmān houseladies of criminal/criminal minded Pseudo Musalmīn and terrorists was a fast shove.
After Durgesh, Shankar Mahāpralayankar also knew it was just as important to make them like it, want it, and even beg for it.
Shankar Mahāpralayankar was proud of Al Qamar Annisā’ that she laughed when her family disowned her.
“I sympathize with my family persons.” Al Qamar Annisā’ smiled now fucking Shankar Mahāpralayankar herself.
“As I do?” Al Sidrah Al Aħmad smiled proudly with utmost conference in herself.
Shankar Mahāpralayankar laughed.
“The reasons are different, Al Sidrah Al Aħmad.”
“I know.” Al Sidrah Al Aħmad smiled bravely, “You too are against my life style. Nevertheless, I’m neither discouraged nor even a bit ashamed of it.”
Professor Doctor Rām Chandr Shukl was fucking Al Sidrah Al Aħmad now.
Despite the fact that Professor Doctor Rām Chandr Shukl never appreciated the life style Al Sidrah Al Aħmad had adopted he believed in the freedom for everyone, including Al Sidrah Al Aħmad too, of course.
He had read the Renouncement of Al Sidrah Al Aħmad by her family ultimately.
Unlike Al Qamar Annisā’ Al Sidrah Al Aħmad’s family didn’t disown her immediately.
Her family gave her even more than fifty years to return to the basic moral values of Islam.
Yet Al Sidrah Al Aħmad never cared for it.
She continued to live her ever-irresponsible life towards her family reputation.
Al Sidrah Al Aħmad continued to fuck every Hindu male she came in contact even if he was a peon, driver, servant, whatsoever the hell that Hindu male was.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Gotrbhid Mahā Bhārat
Shūdrasý tu Savarñaiv Nānyā Bhāryā vidhīyaté
‘Jāti Pānti Poochhé Nahin Koī,
Hari ko bhajé so Hari kā Hoī’
1/18: Ādi Parv
Nafīsah Salmān walked, on her knees and elbows, down the sparkling corridor of the Hotel Bachhalyā BrahmKanyā Bachhalyā Brahmāñī.
I was on her gorgeous behind, as usual.
My Uncut Hindu Prick was penetrating her ever tight Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt sophisticatedly.
She found the door of room number 787, knocked once, waited three seconds, knocked twice, waited three more seconds, then knocked three times.
There was a moment of silence.
Then Nafīsah Salmān heard the sound of steps in the room.
A key twisted in the lock and the door opened slightly.
A safety chain, designed to keep the door from being pushed open, held the opening to a narrow crack.
A pair of green feminine eyes surveyed Nafīsah Salmān.
Then, silently a feminine hand moved up to release the safety chain and the door opened.
Prabhā Shuklā and Umā Dīxit nodded but both of them were careful not to exchange the word of greeting until after Nafīsah Salmān and I were physically in the room.
The door was closed equally silently and locked.
Nafīsah Salmān smiled at Brahm Mahimā Sharmā.
Every one there was nude.
I was fucking Brahm Mahimā Sharmā on the bed.
Her extremely beautiful Sharmā Brāhmañ legs were on my nude Bachhalyā shoulders and she was enjoying my Bachhalyā Lund proudly now into her Sharmā Brāhmañ Cunt, playing simultaneously with her extremely beautiful Sharmā Brāhmañ buttocks too.*
Prabhā Shuklā put safety chain into place and turned to Nafīsah Salmān.
“How are you, Buā Ammī? I didn’t know you were coming up.”
Umā Dīxit nodded in agreement with her ever best friend, Prabhā Shuklā.
However, neither Prabhā Shuklā was ashamed of what she did to her immensely ethical, immensely moral, Sharmā Brāhmañ Bhābhī, Brahm Mahimā Sharmā, nor her ever best friend Umā Dīxit.
They were happy instead that they successfully made their Sharmā Brāhmañ Bhābhī fuck Durgesh.
Padminī Bhārgav wanted it done by hook or crook.
Prabhā Shuklā and Umā Dīxit did successfully what Padminī Bhārgav wanted them to do, irrespective of the fact what Dr. Rām Chandr Shukl had to face due to it.
“Don’t worry,” Padminī Bhārgav shoved her extremely stunning, extremely amazing, gorgeous Bhārgav Brāhmañ buttocks into my nude male Bachhalyā lap, swallowed my entire Ever Sexiest Bachhalyā Lund into her ever tight Bhārgav Brāhmañ Cunt, squeezed her Bhārgav Brāhmañ vaginal muscles around the entire length and thickness of my Ever Sexiest Bachhalyā Lund and smiled cunningly, “you both are selected for my Brahm Padminī Squad. You both are Brahm Padminīs, no doubt. But you have to complete your assignments too if you really want to remain in my Brahm Padminī Squad.”
Prabhā Shuklā and Umā Dīxit looked at each other and promised to complete the assignments allotted to them.
One of their assignments was to put their Bhābhī, Brahm Mahimā Sharmā for ever into my nude male Bachhalyā lap.
“Ghazālah Siddīqī would replace Brahm Mahimā Sharmā in your brother’s, Dr. Rām Chandr Shukl’s life.” Padminī Bhārgav announced, “We need your Brahm Mahimā Sharmā Bhābhī in our Brahm Padminī Squad too.”*
Nafīsah Salmān watched both the Brahm Padminīs, Prabhā Shuklā and Umā Dīxit.
They both were the exquisite example of Brāhmañ Beauties.
But Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan said,
“Their Ammīs are Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Beauties, Ammī. Aren’t they? In fact, according to Hindu History itself, Ummil Åālmīn Hazrat Allāh Rabbil Åālmīn is the ever first Ummil Åālmīn. The entire infinite Brahm Jagdambās are even the especially projected bodies of the original Musalmān Ummahāt Al Åālmīn.”
Nafīsah Salmān looked helplessly at her ever ambitious daughter.
She was adamant to establish Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah.
‘Every Muslimah is for a Hindu male at least, none else can even dream of her, let alone touch her.’ Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan used to say proudly.
“The Musalmīn are being cuckolded to their Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān wives and Durgesh/their Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān wives’ Hindu lover(s), because only Hindu males are made for Panjvaqtah Namāzī ever sacred Musalmān women, not the Pseudo Musalmīn. Islam does mean peace and no Pseudo Musalmān is ever peaceful. They are either terrorists, or criminals, criminal minded at least. How the bastards deserve a Panjvaqtah Namāzī ever sacred Musalmān wife ever? Are you crazy?”
Nafīsah Salmān couldn’t answer her daughter.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan never let her.
“I never imagined you were so selfish, Ammī.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan used to say contemptuously, “You want the Ever Best Hindu Husband for yourself, but not even a traditional Hindu husband for other more ever suffering Muslimahs. It’s a shame to be unable to forget that you are my Ammī.”
“Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan,” Nafīsah Salmān too said contemptuously, “Padminī Bhārgav claims only a Bachhalyā Penis when enters a Brāhmañ Vagina can provide Shaktipāt to a Brāhmañ woman, none else. She has invented Infinite BrāhmKalp Movement for it, a never ending Bachhalyā BrahmKanyā Bachhalyā Brahmāñī time cycle. Aren’t you doing the same thing proposing Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah?”
“I thought I’d look the setup over,” Nafīsah Salmān said to Prabhā Shuklā and Umā Dīxit, “How are things doing?”
“They are making almost every Brāhmañ Beauty a Brahm Jagdambā now.” Prabhā Shuklā said smiling cunningly, “You are right, Buā Ammī. It’s not a part of Infinite BrāhmKalp Movement even. It’s not even a part of Brahm Padminī Squad. It’s actually a part of Brahm Jagdambā Movement. Padminī Bhārgav Dīdī is not making a Brahm Padminī Squad. She is making every Brāhmañ Beauty a Brahm Jagdambā under the disguise of her Brahm Padminī Squad. Why the hell otherwise she assigned both of us to make Brahm Mahimā Sharmā Bhābhī our co wife?”
Nafīsah Salmān controlled herself.
She tried her best not to lose her patience.
It was not a news to her.
Umā Jagdambā Pārvatī Chakrvartī had already warned her.
“Padminī Bhārgav is not after Brahm Padminī Squad, she is actually after a Brahm Padminī Brahm Jagdambā Squad to face Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s Seven Movements that are preparing Musalmān Ummahāt Al Åālmīn Squad actually, either this way or that way. Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is an ever shrewdest ever smooth politician now, but so is Padminī Bhārgav too.”
“Can’t you control Padminī Bhārgav, Umā, my child?” Nafīsah Salmān asked anxiously.
“I’m trying my best, Buā Ammī. But how the hell can we blame Padminī Bhārgav for it? Isn’t Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan doing the same thing under this disguise or that?”*
Late one evening, around 1:30 AM, Pandit Bhawānī Shankar Sharmā’s wife, Prgyā Agnihotrī, and Pandit Bhawānī Shankar Sharmā finished watching a series of DVDs they had rented.
They were both barely awake as the final movie was ending, when suddenly they heard a knock on the sliding glass doors leading from their bedroom to the back yard.
Pandit Bhawānī Shankar Sharmā’s wife, Pragyā Agnihotrī, instantly panicked and rolled off onto the floor in just her panties, dragging the bedspread with her to cover her breasts.
Pandit Bhawānī Shankar Sharmā rolled in the opposite direction and grabbed his pepper spray from the night stand on his side of the bed.
As Pandit Bhawānī Shankar Sharmā crept towards the door, he saw a silhouette of whom he was pretty sure was Durgesh, I.
Pandit Bhawānī Shankar Sharmā barely plucked the blinds back and sure enough he gave me a silly wave and smiled.
Pragyā Agnihotrī and Pandit Bhawānī Shankar Sharmā knew I had a big date this very evening, but wondered why at 2 AM I would be knocking on their door.
As Pandit Bhawānī Shankar Sharmā slid the door open, I immediately began to apologize saying,
“I’m so sorry to bug you, Pandit Bhawānī Shankar Sharmā, but I saw your lights on and, well, I’m locked out next door.”
Pandit Bhawānī Shankar Sharmā immediately told me to come in, and I glanced to his right seeing Prgyā Agnihotrī getting up off the floor with the bedspread tightly clutched to her chest.
I again began to apologize for the intrusion.
Pragyā Agnihotrī began asking a flurry of questions,
“Why would they lock you out? Don’t you have a key? I thought you had a big date tonight? How’d that go?”
Being very comfortable with Pragyā Agnihotrī and Pandit Bhawānī Shankar Sharmā I explained,
“They locked me out because they are assholes. As far as my date, it went just like all the other great dates I’ve had recently… I heavily get laid every time.”
Pragyā Agnihotrī chuckled and said,
“If you keep getting laid on every first date, you’re setting yourself up for almost a male prostitute, instead of a Sex Therapist, don’tcha think?”
I smiled and replied,
“Well yes, but damn it, I’m 64 years old and have had sex infinite times in my life; and countless of those were with the new chicks usually, who insisted that I never wear a condom, but that I take it very slow so as not to break their female sexual organs. Then when I finished, I was to be ultra careful not to even take my Uncut Hindu Penis off unless I was five hours more inside her because
she said she can’t afford to lose me… Now, doesn’t that sound like a wild and satisfying sex life to you?”
Pandit Bhawānī Shankar Sharmā’s wife, Prgyā Agnihotrī, and Pandit Bhawānī Shankar Sharmā looked at each other and grinned as if to say,
“That was a little more information than we expected.”
Prgyā Agnihotrī jokingly said,
“Come here; at least I can give you a hug on that, Pandit Bhawānī Shankar Sharmā, I’m sorry. Please allow me.”
Pandit Bhawānī Shankar Sharmā was dumbfounded.
Hey Bhagwān, God, his own 39 years old extremely beautiful Brāhmañ wife, Prgyā Agnihotrī, hugging Durgesh, the Ever Sexiest Bachhalyā?
Does her Brahmāñī instinct is longing for Durgesh’s Ever Sexiest Bachhalyā Lund?
Padminī Bhārgav has already asked him for his extremely beautiful Brāhmañ wife.
“You must think of entire great Brāhmañ community, Pandit Bhawānī Shankar Sharmā. You are already fifty. What the hell you need Pragyā Agnihotrī for, now?”
Pandit Bhawānī Shankar Sharmā was dumbfounded.
“Your Excellency, it’s a matter of my self pride, my honor…”
“Oh, come on,” Padminī Bhārgav said irritated, “Your wife, Pragyā Agnihotrī, is a Brahm Padminī. We need Brahm Padminīs for our Brahm Padminī Squad. You can marry someone else who isn’t herself a Brahm Padminī.”
Pandit Bhawānī Shankar Sharmā said bitterly.
“So, my younger brother, Shiv Shankar Sharmā, was true? You are making the entire Brahm Padminīs Durgesh’s Brahm Padminī wives forever whether they themselves want it or not? Whether their duly married Brāhmañ husbands want them to sacrifice for your cause, or not? Is it a Democracy? ”*
For the past fifteen minutes it had been apparent that Vibhā Trivédī, the District Attorney, was marking time skilfully.
She was shoving her nude exquisite Trivédī Brāhmañ buttocks into my nude Bachhalyā male lap, swallowing every time my ever strong, Ever Sexiest Bachhalyā Lund into her Trivédī Brāhmañ Choot.
I was fucking Vibhā Trivédī, the District Attorney, because I had to, to follow the manners of Sharmā Brāhmañ Creations.
Vibhā Trivédī fumbled through papers, asked repetitious questions, and from time to time surreptitiously glanced at the clock on the wall of the courtroom.
Abruptly she straightened, constricted her Trivédī Brāhmañ vaginal muscles around my incredibly hard Bachhalyā Lund, and announced cheerfully.
Her vaginal muscles squeezed my Bachhalyā Lund beyond normalcy.
I gritted through my teeth,
“Sālī, Trivédī Brāhmañ Bitch!”
Vibhā Trivédī, the District Attorney, smiled cunningly.
“Bachhalyā Piyā, this isn’t Ved Nagar. This is Sharmā Brāhmañ Creations. Your Musalmān Phuljađī Barristers can’t help you here.”
I grabbed her waist, pulled my Bachhalyā Lund until only its head remained in her Trivédī Brāhmañ Choot, and then shoved it back with my full Bachhalyā manly vigor.
Vibhā Trivédī, the District Attorney, jumped to bear the thrust, but I grabbed her waist again pulling her extremely gorgeous Brāhmañ bottom into my nude Bachhalyā male lap again.
Vibhā Trivédī, the District Attorney, squeezed her lower lip by her upper dental line, to control the involuntary scream ready to emit from her mouth.
It wasn’t good to her reputation to let it emit.
I realized the trap into which Vibhā Trivédī, the District Attorney, had led me.
Vibhā Trivédī, the District Attorney, cooed with every politeness and every official courtesy,
“You may cross-examine, Bachhalyā Piyā.”
“If the court please,” I said affably, “it is twenty minutes to five on a Friday afternoon.”
“What of it, BrahmKanyā- Brahmāñī Ramañ?” Judge Vishwambhar Sharmā, one of the elder brothers of Pandit Bhawānī Shankar Sharmā, asked in his most respectful manner.
“It’s obvious to the Court too, your honor,” I said politely, fucking Vibhā Trivédī, the District Attorney, savagely, “that the Court might not care to interrupt my cross examination of this witness with an adjournment. My cross-examination will, I feel, be rather protracted, rather prolonged. It’s thoroughly necessary in the interest of justice to my already extremely harassed client, my cross-examination should not be interrupted.”
“I object your honor,” Vibhā Trivédī, the District Attorney, cooed, “to the phrase ‘already extremely harassed client’. Every defendant feels that way. It doesn’t mean…”
Judge Vishwambhar Sharmā, one of the elder brothers of Pandit Bhawānī Shankar Sharmā, raised his hand,
“The objection is sustained, Ms. District Attorney. You don’t need to argue further.”
Vibhā Trivédī, the District Attorney, brought her right hand back, between her thighs, and squeezed my Bachhalyā balls playfully,
“Thank you, your honor.”
I enjoyed Vibhā Trivédī, the District Attorney’s gorgeous nude perky, heavy, big Brāhmañ buttocks being shoved to my nude male Bachhalyā lap repetitively, fucked her optimum, and played with her big Trivédī tits,
“May I be heard your honor?”
Judge Vishwambhar Sharmā, one of the elder brothers of Pandit Bhawānī Shankar Sharmā, looked at me gravely.
“BrahmKanyā- Brahmāñī Ramañ, you were requested by Rāj Kumārī Doctor Brahm Sītā Sharmā, the President of Sharmā Brāhmañ Creations herself not to defend the defendant, Pandit Bhawānī Shankar Sharmā. But you regretted her request, despite the fact that Madam President is your duly married wife too.”
“The defendant Pandit Bhawānī Shankar Sharmā has refused to sacrifice his Brahm Padminī wife, Prgyā Agnihotrī, for the cause of Brāhmañ community. It’s his fundamental human right.”
Vibhā Trivédī, the District Attorney, smiled.
“It’s not the case at all, your honor. Moreover, the fundamental human rights differ widely from creations to creations, galaxies to galaxies, solar systems to solar systems, planets to planets and countries to countries. I myself was married to the President of Trivédī Brāhmañ Creations. But as soon as the United BrahmKanyā Brahmāñī Brāhmañ Creations passed the resolution that in the interests of the people of United BrahmKanyā Brahmāñī Brāhmañ Creations it would not be benevolent to make Brahm Padminīs available to anyone else except BrahmKanyā- Brahmāñī Ramañ, my ever faithful Trivédī Brāhmañ husband immediately sacrificed me to now my Bachhalyā Piyā. Why couldn’t Pandit Bhawānī Shankar Sharmā himself sacrifice his Brahm Padminī wife to BrahmKanyā- Brahmāñī Ramañ? He is already fifty. What the hell can he get from his Brahm Padminī wife any more?”
“It’s his fundamental human right.” I said gravely.
“Not here. Not in the United BrahmKanyā Brahmāñī Brāhmañ Creations anywhere. No Brahm Padminī is available now here, in the entire United BrahmKanyā Brahmāñī Brāhmañ Creations, to anyone except to you, Durgesh, BrahmKanyā- Brahmāñī Ramañ.” Vibhā Trivédī, the District Attorney, shouted angrily, “We need our every Brahm Padminī, every one, without even a single exception to meet a greater celestial catastrophe. We can’t spare even a single one. It’s not a verdict that was taken defeating the opposition. It was an unanimous decision of the Inter Creations Parliament of United BrahmKanyā Brahmāñī Brāhmañ Creations. Every person that opposes it is a traitor, I say.”*
Padminī Bhārgav witnessed it all on Hyper 3D.
Vibhā Trivédī was her proud selection in Brahm Padminīs.
She really had brains too.
Padminī Bhārgav was not a damn fool to waste such a great Brahm Padminī talent.
Both Padminī Bhārgav and Vibhā Trivédī looked at each other.
Then both of them looked at Amātý Bhīmdév Charmkār simultaneously.
“Now, we are alone, Amātý Bhīmdév Charmkār.” Padminī Bhārgav smiled gracefully.
Amātý Bhīmdév Charmkār controlled himself.
He was astonished that ultimately Bhārgav Brahm Jagdambā Padminī Bhārgav had allowed him to visit United BrahmKanyā Brahmāñī Brāhmañ Creations.
It was the sparkling capital of United BrahmKanyā Brahmāñī Brāhmañ Creations, Durgesh Padminī Bhārgav Nagar.
Amātý Bhīmdév Charmkār hadn’t seen any City better, except Ved Nagar only.
Durgesh Padminī Bhārgav Nagar was almost Ved Nagar itself.
Amātý Bhīmdév Charmkār had come here directly from Karosiā Brahm Creations.
His extremely beautiful 1008 Brāhmañ secretaries were also with him, as well as his Brāhmañ Mahārānīs, Mahārānī Viprmohinī Dīxit, etcetera.
Rājpitāmah CharmPratāp Charmkār was already there when Amātý Bhīmdév Charmkār reached Durgesh Padminī Bhārgav Nagar.
“Sorry to stop you from starting discussions.” Vibhā Trivédī smiled, “Her Excellency prefers privacy in meetings.”
“I feel privileged.” Amātý Bhīmdév Charmkār pulled his Ārý Samājī Charmkār Penis out of Mahārānī Viprmohinī Dīxit’s still tight Dīxit Brāhmañ Cunt till only its head was inside, then pushed it again entirely back, “We are honored that ultimately you accepted us as a negotiable political unit. Thank you very much.”
“It’s alright,” Padminī Bhārgav smiled, “Rājpitāmah CharmPratāp Charmkār himself came here in person to decide the agenda of our negotiations. It was a great honor. We had to respond to it positively at least.”
Rājpitāmah CharmPratāp Charmkār smiled fucking Rājpitāmahī Mahārānī Brahm Vaishñavī Pāŧhak.
Padminī Bhārgav considered them silently for a few moments.
It was not easy to her to digest watching two Charmkār Penises were invading so many Brāhmañ Cunts before her own eyes.
But she had to negotiate with Rājpitāmah CharmPratāp Charmkār and Amātý Bhīmdév Charmkār to get at least Brahm Padminīs for United BrahmKanyā Brahmāñī Brāhmañ Creations’ own good.
It was not enough to break the marriages of entire Brahm Padminīs in United BrahmKanyā Brahmāñī Brāhmañ Creations only and make them Brahm Jagdambās legally whether they liked it or not.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was doing much more, very very much more to dominate BrahmKanyās and Brahmāñīs in Bachhalyā households.
Padminī Bhārgav had to bring entire Brahm Padminīs from everywhere, from entire Multiverse and make them Brahm Jagdambās.
It could not be done without establishing diplomatic relations with the political units that had Brahm Padminīs.
She had to make them to surrender entire Brahm Padminīs to United BrahmKanyā Brahmāñī Brāhmañ Creations for ever.
Padminī Bhārgav was ready to give any reasonable price for them in exchange.
And she could give them plenty.
Mahārānī Viprmohinī Dīxit, Rājmātā Brahméshvarī Kulkarñī, Rājmātā Mahārānī Brahmmālā Pāŧhak, and Rājmātā Mahārānī Sudéshñā Dubey were swallowing Amātý Bhīmdév Charmkār’s strong Charmkār Penis into their beautiful Brāhmañ Cunts entirely and watching Padminī Bhārgav and Vibhā Trivédī swallowing my Multiversal Ever Sexiest Bachhalyā Lund in their Bhārgav Brāhmañ Cunt and Trivédī Brāhmañ Cunt proudly.
All the four Mahārānīs were feeling extremely jealous of Padminī Bhārgav and Vibhā Trivédī.
Was Mahārānī Viprmohinī Dīxit less beautiful than Padminī Bhārgav and Vibhā Trivédī?
Was Rājmātā Brahméshvarī Kulkarñī less beautiful than Padminī Bhārgav and Vibhā Trivédī?
Was Rājmātā Mahārānī Brahmmālā Pāŧhak less beautiful than Padminī Bhārgav and Vibhā Trivédī?
Was Rājmātā Mahārānī Sudéshñā Dubey less beautiful than Padminī Bhārgav and Vibhā Trivédī?
Was Rājpitāmahī Mahārānī Brahm Vaishñavī Pāŧhak less beautiful than Padminī Bhārgav and Vibhā Trivédī?
Then why Padminī Bhārgav and Vibhā Trivédī were Brahm Jagdambās and why they were Niyog Mahārānīs of a Charmkār Brahm Creation only?
Why they were condemned?
What the hell had they done after all?
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Gotrbhid Mahā Bhārat
Shūdrasý tu Savarñaiv Nānyā Bhāryā vidhīyaté
‘Jāti Pānti Poochhé Nahin Koī,
Hari ko bhajé so Hari kā Hoī’
1/18: Ādi Parv
I woke slowly.
Without opening my eyes, as the fog gradually cleared from my mind I realized that, first, I was not in my own room in my own bed.
In addition, I realized that my morning hard-on felt different.
More than different, it felt much, much better than usual.
The fog cleared slowly.
Eyes still closed I remembered that I was in the bed in Anurādhā Bhārgav’s spare room.
Bit by bit my mind cleared as I climbed toward the world of the awake.
Today was my birthday, my sixty fourth birthday.
Anurādhā Bhārgav had convinced me to stay over, promising that this would be the best birthday I’d ever had in Bhr’gu Creations.
I had smiled.
“Well, Anurādhā Bhārgav darling, Param Brahmarshi Bhagvān Bhr’gu has already passed a resolution here in the Bhr’gu Creations that any Bhārgav Beauty that does not want me her husband, has ultimately to leave Bhr’gu Creations for ever. She can visit Bhr’gu Creations if she wants but she can’t enjoy the citizenship of Bhr’gu Creations. What the hell more anyone can give to me here?”
Anurādhā Bhārgav smiled teasingly.
“Stay and find out, Param Purush.”
And now my morning hard-on felt different.
More than different, it felt much, much better than usual. It felt ─ warm and moist.
Something pulled gently on my cock.
Slowly I opened my eyes.
Anurādhā Bhārgav was looking up at me with a smile in her eyes — and my Bachhalyā Lund in her tremendously stunning Bhārgav Brāhmañ mouth.
Not, Uncut Hindu Lund.
In entire Bachhalyā Brahmkanyās Creations, Bachhalyā Brahmāñīs Creations and Other Brāhm Creations, they used their own Bījāxars strictly.
Sucking gently Anurādhā Bhārgav pulled her immensely splendid Bhārgav Brāhmañ mouth almost to the tip of my very hard, very big, morning hard-on.
And then, slowly, my very beautiful sister in law, Sālī, took my very big, very hard Bachhalyā Lund back into her extremely exquisite Bhārgav Brāhmañ mouth.
Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā! God, it felt so good!
She had never done it before.
Even though it was not only allowed in Bachhalyā Brahmkanyās Creations, Bachhalyā Brahmāñīs Creations, and Other Brāhm Creations, morally and legally, it was even expected from my Brāhmañ Sālīs, sisters in law, to honor me in this way.
In Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah Creations, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan had made it obligatory to Musalmān Beauties there.
Padminī Bhārgav didn’t want to be left behind.
Padminī Bhārgav had instead defeated Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan by passing an Act that in entire Bachhalyā Brahmkanyās Creations and Bachhalyā Brahmāñīs Creations too, every Brāhmañ Beauty was my wife by birth.She could marry someone else only if she is specifically permitted to do so.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan hadn’t gone that for.
Not because she couldn’t do it.
She even didn’t attempt to do it.
“Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is over possessive to Durgesh.” Padminī Bhārgav had criticized her, “She actually wants to keep Durgesh exclusively for herself.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan had only smiled on it and dismissed it without any response from her.*
Sunandā Bhārgav straddled on me.
“You have to do something, Jījū.” She said.
“Jījū?” I squeezed her buttocks, “Still Jījū? Sālī, now I’m not only your Padminī Bhārgav Dīdī’s husband, but your husband too as well.”
Sunandā Bhārgav didn’t respond to what I said.
Instead, she said.
“Padminī Bhārgav Dīdī sent Anurādhā Bhārgav to you. But it doesn’t seem to convince you, we really need your administrative services. Padminī Bhārgav Dīdī asked me consequently to take the matter in my own hands.”
“What about your Brāhmañ Beauties Squad Padminī Bhārgav organized on Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s request?
“What the hell can Brāhmañ Beauties Squad do in this matter, Jījū?”
“Stop calling me ‘Jījū’, you idiot.”
“I’m not idiot. I’m Space Security Incharge for Bhr’gu Creations. And I am doing my duty.”
“What have you found until now,Padminī Bhārgav had organized a BrahmPadminī Squad too, didn’t she?”*
Sunandā Bhārgav kept herself aloof.
“I don’t know. That’s Padminī Bhārgav Dīdī’s own personal squad.”
“To compete with Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s Seven movements? Do you damnfools really think I fall for beauty instead of brain?”
“Ask your own wife, Padminī Bhārgav Dīdī. Why the hell are you asking me? A huge celestial object, weighing ten trillion tons has suddenly appeared on the space of every inhabited planet of Bhr’gu Creations. It is hurtling through the every solar system of Bhr’gu Creations at inconceivable speed.”
“I know, I know, but…”*
It was impossible now to protect even one’s own space, even for a Creations, without the express cooperation of HVSI.
Sunandā Bhārgav regretted now she couldn’t understand what Param Brahmarshi Bhagvān Bhr’gu wanted when he propositioned the unavailability of citizenship for the Bhārgav Brāhmañ Beauties who refused to marry with Durgesh.
Yes, she was not alone.
But she led them.
She refused to cooperate even with her elder sister Padminī Bhārgav.
“Only because you love Durgesh, it doesn’t mean every Bhārgav Brāhmañ Beauty must also love him.”
Padminī Bhārgav said patronizingly.
“Sunandā, don’t act childish now.”
“I am not acting childish, you are acting childish. I am acting as a grown up. I refuse to delegate my fundamental women right to Param Brahmarshi Bhagvān Bhr’gu even that he would decide to whom I would marry.”
“Well, then you can’t get the citizenship of Bhārgav Brāhmañ Creations.”
“Why not? It’s my fundamental women right. I can marry anyone I damn please.”
“Sure.” Padminī Bhārgav smiled, “Similarly Bhārgav Brāhmañ Creations have their fundamental right to let enjoy their citizenship to anyone they damn please and refuse to grant this privilege to anyone they damn please. What the hell wrong in it?”*
I moaned, as Shiv Shankar Sharmā’s wife, Pārvatī Pāŧhak, attacked my Bachhalyā Lund like a street whore, impishly.
“Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā! Slow down, Pārvatī Pāŧhak, my Pāŧhak Brāhmañ sweetheart,” I said as I felt my Bachhalyā balls start to tingle.
But Pārvatī Pāŧhak just took me deeper into her extremely beautiful Pāŧhak Brāhmañ mouth, her hot tongue massaging my entire Bachhalyā shaft, her hands cupping my Bachhalyā balls.
I came. Hard.
Spurt after spurt spewed down Shiv Shankar Sharmā’s wife’s throat.
Pārvatī Pāŧhak swallowed my every Bachhalyā drop, and then sucked and licked my great Bachhalyā Lund clean.
She was doing it more proudly now.
Getting rid of Shiv Shankar Sharmā for ever, now I was the only man in her life.
Pārvatī Pāŧhak was cursing herself for choosing Shiv Shankar Sharmā her life partner ab initio.
He never deserved the honor.
Despite his every effort to act to be a humanitarian, Pārvatī Pāŧhak knew he was actually a traditional communal Brāhmañ.
Pārvatī Pāŧhak didn’t know it when she married him.
Yet she was happy now that she accepted Shiv Shankar Sharmā’s suggestion now to sacrifice herself for their great Brāhmañ community’s ultimate welfare.
She was herself worried that Musalmān Beauties, and Musalmān houseladies even, were dominating now capable and powerful Hindus’ sex life more and more day by day.
Yes, they were so many times more in number than BrahmKanyās and Brahmāñīs were, but it should never mean that the BrahmKanyās and Brahmāñīs should lose the capable and powerful Hindus forever, not to Musalmān Beauties only but to ever shrewder Musalmān houseladies even.
Pārvatī Pāŧhak looked up at me with those big green eyes.
“Please don’t be angry. I attacked you sexually as if I were street whore to you, only impishly.”
“I know you, Pārvatī Bhābhī,” I said gravely, “Don’t worry.”
Pārvatī Pāŧhak blushed.
“Stop calling me ‘Bhābhī’ now.”
“Bad habits die gradually.”
Pārvatī Pāŧhak laughed sarcastically,
“Of course! Bad habits! Sālī, I never wanted to call you ‘Bhābhī’.”
“Bachhalyā scoundrel! I never thought you wanted to fuck me right from the beginning.”
I winked at Pārvatī Pāŧhak lewdly.
“What’s wrong there now in accepting the truth?”
Pārvatī Pāŧhak held her head high.
“I am honored. Thank you.”
“Did you really never understand when I teased you before you married Shiv Shankar Sharmā?”
Pārvatī Pāŧhak retorted.
“What the hell was there to understand? You were so loudly obvious. You hugged me, you kissed me, you squeezed my breasts, you squeezed my buttocks, even tried to give your ever sexiest Bachhalyā Lund into my Pāŧhak Brāhmañ fist. Once you undressed me even completely despite my protests while you were already nude, and tried to fuck me even.”
I looked into her beautiful Brāhmañ eyes significantly.
“Tried to fuck you? Only tried to fuck you?”
Pārvatī Pāŧhak hesitated somewhat.
Then she admitted boldly.
“Well, you took my virginity and fucked me furiously for eighteen months completely nonstop. It was not our first Honeymoon that lasted for one month plus only. That was our actual Honeymoon that lasted for eighteen months.”
“And as soon as I pulled out of you, you married Shiv Shankar Sharmā.” I complained her.
Pārvatī Pāŧhak brought down her eyes.
“Sorry, I could not bear that. I was afraid of your Bachhalyā hyper sex. I was brought up in a Pāŧhak Brāhmañ environment. And you impregnated me.”
“What?” I jumped in extremely pleasant astonishment.
“Yes, Brahmesh Sharmā is actually your son, not of Shiv Shankar Sharmā.” Pārvatī Pāŧhak looked at me gravely.
I was dumbfounded.
Pārvatī Pāŧhak smiled courteously.
“What’s there to be surprised? You impregnated more women than even really know. You have more sons from your women than even you know of. We always lie to you in the matter due to various reasons.”
I could not believe her.
“But…but you too enjoyed that eighteen month great sex session of us.”
“Well, yes. It was my ever first sex session. I couldn’t resist it. Could I?”*
Anurādhā Bhārgav was, and still is, one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen ─ naked or otherwise!
She had short blond hair that framed a sweet, angelic face.
Anurādhā Bhārgav was about five three, shorter than I was.
Her tits were big and very firm.
Her stomach was flat and her waist was small.
Her gorgeous Bhārgav Brāhmañ ass was incredible, heavy, big and tight.
In Bhārgav Brāhmañ Beauties, only Padminī Bhārgav had more beautiful ass than Anurādhā Bhārgav.
And at the top of the two most beautiful long legs was the world’s most perfect Bhārgav Brāhmañ Pussy, after that of Padminī Bhārgav, of course.
Anurādhā Bhārgav was slowly and gently sucking my Bachhalyā Lund again in and out of the prettiest Bhārgav Brāhmañ mouth I’d ever seen, after that of Padminī Bhārgav.
Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā, it felt so good!
“Happy birthday, Durgesh!” Anurādhā Bhārgav wished me again.
And then she slid her tremendously stunning Bhārgav Brāhmañ mouth back down the full length of my Bachhalyā Lund.
As Anurādhā Bhārgav pulled back, sucking just a little harder, I came.
Head back, eyes closed again, I shot my Bachhalyā cum into her tremendously stunning Bhārgav Brāhmañ mouth.
And she swallowed it and sucked some more, and swallowed again.
My eyes opened again and I watched as she licked the cum from the tip of my Bachhalyā Lund.
“I told you this would be the best birthday ever, didn’t I?” She licked my Bachhalyā Lund again before she came to her knees.*
Anurādhā Bhārgav was totally nude.
Her tits were even more perfect than they had looked through the not quite closed doors, her tummy even flatter and her Bhārgav Brāhmañ Pussy even more beautiful.
Slowly she moved up until her exquisite tremendously beautiful Bhārgav Brāhmañ Cunt was rubbing the underside of my still throbbing Bachhalyā Lund.
She rocked her hips gently against my Bachhalyā hard-on for just a few minutes before I almost came again, once more.
“You like my Bhārgav Brāhmañ Pussy, don’t you, Durgesh?” She moved slowly up the bed towards my face on her knees. “Did you ever think you’d get to see it so close?” She stopped just inches from my mouth.
Her skin was soft and smooth, her Bhārgav Brāhmañ Pussy shaved totally clean.
“Did you think I didn’t know you were watching? Did you think I left the doors opened by accident? I knew you were watching, my Bachhalyā Jījū. I wanted you to watch. Did you know I watched you? Did you know I watched you in the morning when you woke up and stroked that utmost handsome Bachhalyā Lund until you came? Do you know how often I was tempted to come into your room and suck on that big hard Bachhalyā Lund like I did this morning? But I knew you’d wait and I wanted your next birthday to be one you would never forget!”
I hadn’t been awake very long and I was already sure she had managed that!
“Do you know what your next present is going to be, my Bachhalyā Jījū? You get to kiss me there! You get to kiss this Bhārgav Brāhmañ Pussy until I’m unable to resist to cum!” She rocked her hips forward and her exquisite tremendously beautiful Bhārgav Brāhmañ Cunt was right there.
She rocked back and tried to catch her breath.
“How do you like your birthday presents so far, my Bachhalyā Jījū? Your first blow job from me and your first Bachhalyā kiss on my Bhārgav Brāhmañ Pussy. Now I have another first for you.” She moved slowly back down the bed, lifted her gorgeous Bhārgav Brāhmañ ass slightly and guided my hard on slowly into her Bhārgav Brāhmañ Pussy.
“Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā! God, Anurādhā Bhārgav, that feels so good!”
“Hmmm, it does, doesn’t it?” She started moving slowly up and down, back and forth, pushing her Bhārgav Brāhmañ Pussy all the way down on my Bachhalyā Lund and then pulling it almost all the way off and then slowly pushing it all the way back down.
“Hey Bhagvān! God, Durgesh, you have a great Bachhalyā Lund!”
Anurādhā Bhārgav fucked me, fucked me and fucked me.
We both damn cared for how long.
It seemed like a beautiful eternity before I felt my Bachhalyā Lund swelling and then I came again, filling Anurādhā Bhārgav’s exquisite tremendously beautiful Bhārgav Brāhmañ Cunt with my cum.
“Yes, Durgesh, yes! Fuck me! Yes!” Her Bhārgav Brāhmañ Pussy was grabbing my Bachhalyā Lund and pulling my Bachhalyā cum out of me like a milking machine!
Finally she stopped moving and just kneeled there with my Bachhalyā Lund still in her Bhārgav Brāhmañ Pussy until she caught her breath.
Her Bhārgav Brāhmañ Pussy squeezed my Bachhalyā Lund for just a moment and then released it.
But she didn’t move.
My Bachhalyā Lund was still buried deepst in her exquisite tremendously beautiful Bhārgav Brāhmañ Cunt.
“What do you think, girls? Was I right?”
Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā!
Anurādhā Bhārgav watched the pleasant shock spread over my face and laughed.
“You didn’t know we had an audience, did you, my Bachhalyā Jījū?” Anurādhā Bhārgav pointed to my left. “Durgesh, I’d like you to meet Supriyā Dīxit.”
As I turned my head to the left she stepped from the spot she’d been sitting by the head of the bed.
Supriyā Dīxit was about the same height as Anurādhā Bhārgav with full, beautifully shaped tits.
They were firm and her nipples were big and ready to be squeezed.
Her Dīxit Brāhmañ waist was a bit bigger than Anurādhā Bhārgav’s and so was her gorgeous Dīxit Brāhmañ ass, but the thing that got my attention was her exquisite tremendously beautiful Dīxit Brāhmañ Cunt.
The lips were puffy and wet, begging to be rubbed by my legendary unique Bachhalyā Lund.
She seemed to realize what I was staring at.
She laughed and slid a finger slowly into her Dīxit Brāhmañ Pussy.
“Hi, Durgesh. Do you like this?”
Do I like it?
The only Bhārgav Brāhmañ Pussy I ever saw present there that was nicer was Anurādhā Bhārgav’s!
Anurādhā Bhārgav laughed again.
“And this,” Anurādhā Bhārgav pointed to the right, “is Jāhnavī Sharmā.”
Jāhnavī Sharmā moved into my field of vision from her chair at the head of the bed.
Jāhnavī Sharmāwas a couple of inches shorter than Supriyā Dīxit with tits that were somewhere between either of the other Brāhmañ girls.
I was in Brāhmañ heaven.
Three of the world’s most wonderful sets of Brāhmañ tits waiting for me to feel and play with them.
She had short red hair that was a real turn on and a cute face with freckles across her nose and the cutest dimples in her Sharmā Brāhmañ cheeks.
And where both Anurādhā Bhārgav and Supriyā Dīxit had shaved their Brāhmañ pussies clean, Jāhnavī Sharmā had left a small, neatly trimmed patch just above her exquisite tremendously beautiful Sharmā Brāhmañ Cunt.
“Hi, Durgesh.” She had a soft voice and I loved her dimples.
“Didn’t I tell you he was a Bachhalyā stud?” Anurādhā Bhārgav squeezed my Bachhalyā Lund with her Bhārgav Brāhmañ Pussy again.
“You were right, Anurādhā Bhārgav! I can’t wait to get that Bachhalyā Lund in my Dīxit Brāhmañ Pussy!” Supriyā Dīxit still had her finger moving slowly in and out of her exquisite tremendously beautiful Dīxit Brāhmañ Cunt.
“You go ahead, Supriyā Dīxit! I want his hot Bachhalyā kiss on my Sharmā Brāhmañ Pussy!” Jāhnavī Sharmā was rubbing her nipples with her finger tips.
Anurādhā Bhārgav squeezed my Bachhalyā Lund one more time and then got up. “Did you hear that, my Bachhalyā Jījū? You have two more Brāhmañ pussies to satisfy. Think you’re up to it?”
Before I could answer, Jāhnavī Sharmā was lowering her Sharmā Brāhmañ Pussy to my Bachhalyā mouth and just seconds later I felt Supriyā Dīxit pull my Bachhalyā Lund into her exquisite tremendously beautiful Dīxit Brāhmañ Cunt.
I rocked my hips slowly, wanting this to last forever.
I pushed my Bachhalyā Lund as deepest into Supriyā Dīxit’s Dīxit Brāhmañ Pussy as it would go and held it there for a few seconds before I slowly pulled it back out almost all the way.
At the same time I teased Jāhnavī Sharmā’s Sharmā Brāhmañ Pussy with my Bachhalyā male lips, finding that sweet spot near the top that seemed to drive her crazy.
Supriyā Dīxit was fucking me now madly.*
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Durgesh Farħānah Al Åbbās
Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī herself was behind it.
I was exasperated,
Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī laughed,
“Sālī.” I gritted my teeth.
“I can’t help it, Pitr’shrī. Durgesh is always against my best decisions.”
I watched her gravely.
“Haven’t you learned any lessons even now, Satī?”
Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī retorted,
“What’s there to learn?”
“I requested Ārsh Sadan, not compelled ever.”
“Didn’t you fight the issue until the entire Ārsh Sadan didn’t agree with you?”
“That’s my fundamental political right. Can you deny it, my dear Bachhalyā husband?”
He was smiling sophisticatedly.
“Don’t enjoy her idiosyncrasies, Param Brahmarshi.”
“I object on the word ‘idiosyncrasies’.” Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī smiled cunningly.
Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī retorted,
“Benefits of Shāshvat Satyug? What are they, Bachhalyā Piyā?”
“Call me ‘Durgesh’.” I admonished her curtly.
“I love to respect my husband.” Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī smiled, “It’s not good manners to call one’s husband by his name.”
“Well, that’s what I think.”
“Sālī, come to the point.”
“It’s bad manners to abuse your wife when her father is present.”
“You are again enjoying her naughty activities, Bhagvan.”
“She calls me ‘Bachhalyā Piyā’ on your support.”
“Well, I don’t think there’s anything wrong in calling you ‘Bachhalyā Piyā’.” Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī smiled impishly.
I smiled too.
Sālī was hiding behind the mask of marital relationship between us.
Her real father was Prajāpatipati Dax Brahmāputr.
But Param Brahmarshi was Gr’harshi of our entire family including Tārxý, Shésh, Balrām Bhrātr’shrī, Bharat, Laxmañ, Shatrughn, Prakāsh, Shlésh and Ved Prakāsh.***
“‘Bachhalyā’ was my birth Gotr in the ever last Kaliyug. It causes me to remember my ‘Pashu Janm’, my animal birth. Isn’t it denying my Dvij identity?”
Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī laughed triumphantly.
“No.” I said, “I hate this ‘Pashu Janm Sambodhan’, this ‘Animal Birth Address’, for me.”
Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī smiled,
“That’s another matter.”
“How? They are Musalmān. Therefore? They make Ashvinātam Sharīr Yantrs with you. Therefore?”
“I never blamed you so.”***
When Muħammad flew into Miami, all he seemed to see from the air was water.
It was everywhere.
It was the encroaching sea at the coast, and inland ribbons that sliced the landscape to pieces.
Much of the downtown Miami was protected, of course, but outlying districts, even just blocks away, were flooded.
Muħammad was mildly shocked.
But the place still worked.
He was unable to understand why so many Musalmīn of India still loved to vote Congress.
It had to resign.
Being a time traveler himself, Muħammad had never seen so many foolish Musalmīn anywhere.
“I haven’t objection that Zaynab Bājī has chosen a Hindu his Live in Relationship Partner, Abbū.” His youngest daughter Saiyadah Fātimah Muħammad PhD had complained, “Durgesh is not only a Hindu. He is a black magician as well.”
“What nonsense are you talking, Saiyadah Fātimah Muħammad? Muħammad was furious.
“Abbū, he is fucking infinite Musalmān Beauties.”
“Nonsense. You are a PhD. Shame to you.”
“Abbū, Zaynab Bājī claims she has seen him so.”
“Fucking infinite Musalmān Beauties?”
“And you believed it?”
“You must be crazy, Saiyadah Fātimah Muħammad PhD.”
“Is Kåbah Sharīf itself infinite?”
Muħammad had silenced his daughter.
But he knew it was possible.
Yes, his eldest daughter, Zaynab Muħammad Åbdullah, was right when she argued,
“Abbū, if Måraj is possible, why what I saw is impossible?”*
Two years ago, I bought Farħānah Al Åbbās her first car; a sporty little red convertible.
I swam deep into my thoughts.
I could bring up the day I handed the keys to my Live in Relationship Partner Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam’s daughter, Farħānah Al Åbbās, as if it was on a Rolodex.
Two years ago in the mild stages of spring, Farħānah Al Åbbās blew out the candles on her eighteenth birthday cake.
The very breath that Farħānah Al Åbbās breathed was my breath.
That very breath she exhaled over eighteen candles was the day I felt myself.
I would be sixty-three on my upcoming birthday, by no means ancient.
But my Live in Relationship Partner Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam’s daughter, Farħānah Al Åbbās’s declaration of youthful independence became my silent resolution of long experiences.
And I was having no trouble admitting it.
Why should I?
I was still everyoung.
Wasn’t I, still fucking extraordinary young Musalmān Beauties, even teenagers too?
My age was increasing but so was my bubbling Hindu youth as well.
None knew I was a Parahuman however.
They thought I was a normal human being.
Well, how could they differentiate?
We try to explain the things we can’t deny.
But, naturally, we use our own knowledge and experiences for it.
They took my Parahumanism as an exception to normal humanism.
The exceptions were not unusual.
It helped me in keeping my real identity to myself and to the persons who understood it.
I trusted them.
No use to tell my real identity to the persons I didn’t trust ab initio.
It couldn’t solve any problem.
On the contrary, it could increase my problems instead.
Naturally, I was not stupid enough to do so.
It seemed like only a few, short years ago, I was driving my first car.
The others were surprised that it was not any great occasion to me.
We felt happier when we accomplished something in our Shaktimān or Bhogchakr.
To the most of non Hindus it was extraordinary.
They criticized Hindus,
Saiyadah Āmnah smiled,
“When we say ‘razī Allāhu tålā ånhā’, do they understand? When we say ‘nauzbillah’ do they understand?”
“Every religion has its own terminology based on its own particular philosophy of life and vision.”
Muħammad couldn’t say anything.
Saiyadah Āmnah, his Ammījān, smiled,
“Hindus believe that to every action of a person, there is either Shaktipāt or Shaktixaý. The amount of energy in any person at any moment is his/her Shaktimān.”
“I see, and Bhogchakr?” Muħammad smiled ironically.
One more religious nonsense.
But Hindus’ own religious nonsense is also not less entertaining.
“The Hindus believe that the entire infinite creations are made by Allah for our human beings consumption.
Every person thus, according to Hindus, has his/her own Consumption Cycle. They call it Bhogchakr in their religious language, Sanskr’t.
“We all have our own religious idiosyncrasies.”
Åbdullah Hāshmī smiled,
“Not because their so called Eīshān Vigyān, Ammī.” Muħammad retorted.
Saiyadah Āmnah chuckled,
“How do you know, my dear son?”***
My mind dove deeper into my past memories as I took my exit to the office.
I had given up my spot in the two-car garage to my Live in Relationship Partner Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam’s daughter, Farħānah Al Åbbās’ car.
It seemed ridiculous to have a convertible car sitting outside in the elements and my fifteen year old Chevy Silverado had seen better days.
Farħānah Al Åbbās had definitely benefited from her Ammī’s beauty.
Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam and I had gotten off to a rocky Live in Relationship, in our first few years.
From the normal “settling in” phase to various arguments, it took us many years to straighten out our problems with each other.
But after the newness wore off, our understanding for each other grew.
I had tried so hard to keep the peace with my Live in Relationship Partner; something easier said than done.
I knew when I met her that she would be hard to handle.
Musalmān women as beautiful as her don’t come around often, and I was surprised when she agreed to a first date with me.
I knew what I had.
But I also knew it would take me controlling my temper to keep her.
I tried as hard as I could to make my Live in Relationship with Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam work.
I had to.
Being a Hindu it was my duty.
Not only it, being a good human being even, I had to adjust with Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam.
I wasn’t a plaster saint, by any means.
Everyone knew it.
Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam was also included in this everyone.
During our first few years of Live in Relationship, I had openly met several young Musalmān women on the internet.
There was something in the over possessive attitude of Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam that I felt somewhat imprisoned and even tortured by my new Live in Relationship.
The only distraction from that was in the safety of the anonymous interest of another Musalmān Beauty.
A Musalmān Beauty I had no ties or resentment toward.
I even met a few of the young Musalmān women in person.
Some would be only for brief talks, leading to more, but most were simply for my sexual unions.
I always let my temptations take me all the way, bravely.
I was a hyper sexual, a Parahuman.
I needed those Musalmān Beauties not only for my sexual satisfaction, but for my own survival as well.
Ordinary human beings couldn’t understand it very well.
But how could I help it?
By sacrificing my own life, my own existence?
I was not such a sucker, neither had I wanted to be, nor prepared to be, ever.
I never agreed I was wrong.
Why should have I?
I always used to have intercourse with other Musalmān Beauties other than my Live in Relationship Partner, Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam.
It’s not that I wasn’t sexually attracted to my new Live in Relationship Partner, back then.
Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā, she was gorgeous.
Tall and sleek, she had the body of a competent Musalmān seductress.
Her breasts perked high in her tight, little tops.
I always loved the cuteness of a big-chested Musalmān Beauty.
They just always gave me a warm, sweet feeling; making me smile in satisfaction.
Her legs were something to be appreciated; long and tone, always silky smooth and tan.
She had one of those big gorgeous Musalmān asses that I would imagine a sexy heiress to the families fortune having.
Tight, round, almost giving off a conceited vibe, like it was actually saying, “I’m better for you”.
She had that nice, deep line running from the small of her back up between her shoulders and slender arms and fingers.
Her hands and feet were dainty, something I always loved about her.
Her hair was long and dark, absolute perfection and her eyes matched it in color and luster.
With full, pouty lips and a small, up-turned nose, she was constantly viewed by other people as stuck-up, vein or a bitch.
Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam had everything and I knew it.
But after our Live in Relationship, her looks became horribly skewed as I realized her communal mood swings, controlling attitude and just a general idea that I would wait on her, hand and foot, took its toll on my attraction to her.
I found myself not very anxious to have sex with her and I knew, this happening this early in a Live in Relationship was not a good thing.
Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam was only two years younger than me.
I found younger Musalmān women more open to my intentions.
Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam was the only exception.
I had never dated a Musalmān Beauty that made me wait for sex.
She was a virgin and intended on staying that way until Live in Relationship.
It was that easy, usually.
Most of the Musalmān Beauties I met only once, and oddly enough, they were perfectly fine with that.
One girl in particular, I met more than once.
At twenty-one years old, slightly thick, with 38DD’s that were spilling over her bra, she was definitely something I never had usually.
Petite Musalmān girls had always been my thing.
The first night I met her, we talked and laughed. something I hadn’t done in a while with Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam.
I constantly admired her excellent Musalmān breasts.
Almost like an expensive piece of chocolate I slowly peeled her tight shirt upward, my excitement building with every inch of her enormous Musalmān breasts coming into view.
My intentions were hers as well; we had discussed it beforehand.
Her bra forced the top of her Musalmān breasts out over the edge.
She smiled at my overwhelming interest as she unhooked her bra, squeezing her massive Musalmān tits together, with her arms, as she let the straps fall from her shoulders.
Slowly she pulled the cups away and relaxed her arms back to our resting position.
The result was her gorgeous round globes were swaying and knocking together like a desk novelty.
I smiled teasingly at the sight.
I took my time with something as if, a well-endowed rack.
Light touches and strong squeezes excited me more then I knew possible.
Pressing them together, letting them sway, light squeezes turned to lustful squeezings.
I could feel her chest heaving, her breathing becoming louder, stronger.
Then a thought quickly came to me.
“Would you mind if I tit-fucked you? I want to do it to you more than before,” I asked, looking up at her from between her cupped breasts.
“Sure,” Åāýéshah Muħammad panted. “It looks like you’re having a lot of fun. Who am I to deny you, plus, this feels really good!”
I rose and straddled her waist, watched her palm the sides of her breasts, pressing us tightly against each other.
The sight alone made me drip precum.
My unquestionable Hindu arousal for this curiosity, the feeling of firm, huge Musalmān breasts sucking tightly on my naked Uncut Hindu Dick, the unbelievably Musalmān softness of them pressing against my Hindu pelvis overwhelmed me.
I tit fucked Åāýéshah Muħammad for almost half an hour.
She held it into her mouth, briefly gave it an accepting look, then looked me directly in the eyes and guided it into her mouth.
“Durgesh darling, méré Hindu Piyā, Hindu Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt, hum Musalmān ħasīnāon ké Hindu Kħasam, Hindu husband of us Musalmān Beauties! Has anyone ever told you your Hindu cum is very sweetest?” Åāýéshah Muħammad teased me, swirling her tongue in her mouth; enjoying the remnants of her fresh oral sex with me.
“Actually, I’ve heard that a few times,” I smirked, still teasing her.
As she stepped out of my truck, she waved ‘Allah Ħāfiz’, ‘goodbye’ and we went our separate ways. Durgesh felt the bliss rising deep within me.
I talked to her on the phone, as well as on the internet after that, and met her on three other encounters.
One meeting I pulled up to her car, Åāýéshah Muħammad got out and climbed into my truck.
Åāýéshah Muħammad swallowed, primed my leftover Hindu cum to the tip of my Uncut Hindu Cock, licked it off, zipped my pants back up, looked at me, smiled and said ‘Allah Ħāfiz’ once more.
That meeting was my favorite; to-the-point, raw, it was cut-and-dry and required no build-up.
Another time Åāýéshah Muħammad knelt down in a parking lot and sucked my excited Uncut Hindu Cock in full view of anyone deciding to park in the lot.
When Åāýéshah Muħammad could sense I was close to cumming, Åāýéshah Muħammad e held out her palm and gently massaged my Uncut Hindu Cock to orgasm.
She cupped her hand in front of the tip and let my warm, sweet Hindu juice puddle into it.
Åāýéshah Muħammad Hāshmī then rose up and began licking small quantities of it from her hand until all traces were gone.
My satisfied Uncut Hindu Cock began throbbing with each fast-paced heartbeat, as I watched her lap my most primal of Hindu fluids up like a hungry kitten.
Muħammad Abdullah turned his car onto the gravel road and drove up the hill toward the clubhouse.
The brick building was about 2 miles up the road, in a little forest of pine trees.
It could not be seen from the road.
And unless you knew it was there, you wouldn’t even know it existed.
A generous patron had donated the somewhat isolated land and building to the local Explorer troop some years ago.
Even though it had been built in the 1940’s, the Explorers had taken good care of it, and it was very nice.
The grounds were well-kept with a nicely-trimmed lawn and a picnic area.
Inside, there was a meeting room, a kitchen, a bunk room, and a full gym with weight machines, a large mat room for boxing and wrestling, and a large shower area.
The Explorers were a group of teen-aged Hindu boys who were interested in going into law enforcement or fire-fighting careers.
They worked with local agencies to learn about the job and would meet at the clubhouse on Tuesday nights to discuss what they had learned and plan events and fundraisers.
Other than that, the Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club house was mainly a place for the guys to hang out and work on projects or work out in the weight room.
The leaders would come in most evenings and open the place from 6 pm to 8 pm if any of the guys wanted to work out.
But the weight room could get pretty crowded at times.
And the guys would sometimes have to wait awhile for their turn.
That was why Muħammad Abdullah had driven up there that night.
At the meeting the night before, I, one of his fellow leaders, had mentioned to him that I was going to stay late the following night and had told Muħammad Abdullah that he could come and work out if he wished.
Muħammad Abdullah’s school schedule was fairly light the following day, and he thought it would be great to be able to get in a workout without having to wait around for machines to open up.
As he neared the clubhouse, he saw that my car was parked in back, but no one else was there.
The outside light was on, as were the lights inside the gym area.
Muħammad Abdullah parked his car and walked over to the building.
It had been a warm spring day, but a cool breeze had begun to blow through the pines.
It was very quiet up there.
The only sound was the wind blowing through the trees.
Muħammad Abdullah breathed in the pine-scented air and enjoyed the moment.
It felt like he was way out in the country.
He had dressed for his workout in a t-shirt and some loose nylon running shorts.
Underneath his shorts, he was wearing a jockstrap and could feel the breeze blow up his shorts and across his butt.
He liked wearing a jock because of the way it snugly held his cut Musalmān nūnī and balls, while allowing him to feel otherwise naked underneath.
He walked into the gym and saw me sitting on the floor, stretching.
I was one of the older leaders.
I was 62 years old, 6′ 5″ tall, and weighed about 250 pounds, all solid muscle.
I constantly worked out and was very strong.
The sexiest men in entire infinite Creations and infinite time dimension too.
Muħammad Åbdullah was suggested so many times to reconsider what his system of life should be for his future life.
Not even if his Musalmān friends were terrorists themselves.
How can he fuck the women he called Ammī once?
How can he fuck the women he called Bājī once?
How can he fuck the girls he called sisters once?
How can he fuck the women he called Bhābhījān once?
Muħammad Åbdullah would prefer even to die instead.
To hell with such Sukr’ts.
Might is always right.
That’s what Hindus actually believe in.
The Bachhalyās were always immorals.
The ever immoral Bachhalyās were the first who started incest.
Moreover, they argued it moral, religious and legal too.
Ultimately Lord Parashu Rām had killed the immoral Bachhalyās consecutively for twenty one times, in twenty one Brāhm Kalp Cycles.***
I reveled in her complete raw sexual cravings, her uninhibited urges to milk my wanting Uncut Hindu Cock of every single drop of my nature.
But what was so intense to me was I had no idea who this Musalmān Beauty was, and she knew nothing of me.
“Allah, God, that tastes so good,” Åāýéshah Muħammad Hāshmī grunted.
I moaned, dazed from the delight.
Each encounter was something new and different.
A drastic change from the already staleness, sexually, I had already become accustomed to.
On our last encounter, I went to her house to see her.
She was like nothing I had ever met.
She stopped at nothing to amaze me.
She knew nothing would come of our meetings, but I felt, something inside her loved the attention.
I followed her upstairs to her bedroom, admiring the thigh high stockings and very short miniskirt that left nothing covered.
This, she knew, was one of my fetishes.
We had discussed some very, very sexy ideas and fantasies in our little chats.
She stripped away my pants along with my boxers.
“I love sitting on your Hindu lap Durgesh darling, while you fuck Åāýéshah Muħammad Hāshmī.” she winked at me as she peeled her spaghetti-strapped top up over her head, her large melons dropping and swaying from the release.
Her nipples softly slipped across my skin and then pressed against my Hindu chest.
The slushing noises of all those juices being forced in-and-out, up-and-down, back-and-forth was enough to bring me over the edge.
“Hold on Durgesh darling, I’ve got to go get something,” Åāýéshah Muħammad Hāshmī said as she rose up off me.
Cautioning my mind back in reality, I was cautious as I stared at her bare Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot release itself from me.
Strands upon strands of her natural lubrication clung to my Uncut Hindu Lund, refusing the separation.
Well, the refusal was inevitable ultimately.
It all had made its own infinite time cycle repeating itself again and again.
Musalmān Beauties had to fuck me consequently.
Even they couldn’t resist the temptation.
Their Musalmān Cunts demanded my Uncut Hindu Lund uncompromisingly.
I watched, bewildered, as clear droplets of desire splashed silently, from deep within her, against my lurching Uncut Hindu Cock.
I had rarely, seen a Musalmān Beauty so wet, even while I always fucked infinite of them actually.
Wasn’t it something special?
Certainly it was.
Her short skirt was lowering a little with every step.
Walking back into the room, Åāýéshah Muħammad Hāshmī again straddled my hard Uncut Hindu Cock.***
It all made sense now.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā could feel me — feel a man nearby.
The voices and images that had bombarded her made sense now — and they had washed away her old reality.
All Jamīlah Bū Pāshā remembered was being sucked up by the blue light into the Posthuman warship, and the gas she and the other Musalmān Beauties had been subjected to….no, not gas exactly, the were tiny particles like…dust or…spores.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā knew that now.
Finally, all of it made sense.
She had eons worth of memories; the biologically—encoded memories of a great race, an ancient race.
The body of knowledge that filled her brain overshadowed all ethical, political, or religious beliefs; her race—memory was all.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had awakened at long last from a prison of petty, weak, female morality and anxiety, and Jamīlah Bū Pāshā knew what Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had to do.
Again, and again.
It was not a means to an end, reproduction was the end.
It would be beautiful; she was beautiful.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had been given a gift when the Posthumans sprayed her with their spores; Jamīlah Bū Pāshā knew that she did not need to age, she need not fear rejection.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā knew that Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had a choice of any man… she was erupting with the power of limitless seduction — no matter a man’s station, commitment or preferences — Jamīlah Bū Pāshā could have me…Jamīlah Bū Pāshā could possess the best men…but… but…she didn’t want the best man…
No, she wanted…all Hindus!
All of them!
She would spread her legs, shake her extremely beautiful gorgeous glamorous excellent exquisite perfectly round firm Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass for any chance to copulate with a Hindu.
She laughed when Jamīlah Bū Pāshā realized that normal Musalmān Beauties would be selective for the most suitable Hindu.
What mattered was breeding!
When Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had been human; Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had wanted only to attract the right Hindu; now Jamīlah Bū Pāshā could attract any Hindu, and wanted them all!
They thought she was an Egyptian.
‘Pāshā’ was an Egyptian surname.
Well, only her Abbū was an Egyptian Årab Musalmān.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā closed her eyes, and felt a sweet sensation.
It was an aura that teased her senses like electric sugar.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā could see glowing blue threads in the air,
Many of them with a common root — but with a few wild branches.
The glowing threads that waved and wandered in front of her seemed to radiate that energizing sweetness.
She grasped a tangential strand, and gained a flash of images — massive lovely Musalmān breasts, platinum blond hair, metal studs and piercings, a extremely lovely Musalmān feminine shape.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā was dimly aware of her flesh flowing, bones popping, chest expanding.
And in a flash, Jamīlah Bū Pāshā knew that Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had become the very soul of desire!
The sweetness grew more intense, and was accompanied by a sense of invincible power.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā was desirable now, a perfect match…but….for what?
For a Hindu…Jamīlah Bū Pāshā could practically smell his anti-Islamic Hindu lust.
It was not the nature of the Hindu himself, but the strength of his Hindu libido that drew her.
It made no difference what he looked like.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā knew that Jamīlah Bū Pāshā would spread herself for any Hindu even…Hindus from other planets?
Yes…yes…their Hindu libidos captivated her, made her wet, made her pulse flutter with longing.
There was a time when Jamīlah Bū Pāshā would have rejected a Hindu based on meaningless emotional impulses!
She scoffed at the human woman she used to be, Jamīlah Bū Pāshā was…. yes, a Musalmān Beauty.
She embraced the term as normal, natural.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had reached the inevitable evolution of the female Musalmān organism — absolute promiscuity.
She looked forward to impregnation — Jamīlah Bū Pāshā knew that Jamīlah Bū Pāshā could give birth offspring quickly, easily, without pain or risk of injury — in her new, advanced body Jamīlah Bū Pāshā realized the process would be highly pleasurable!
And imagine, Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had been afraid when the Posthumans had first captured her!
“Hindus,” she breathed.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā was one of them now.
They were her people, her species.
It was human Musalmān Beauties that were Posthuman now.
Her new sisterhood ruled this planet.
And they would steal every living Hindu away from their own Musalmān Beauties.
But that had already been done.
Only a tiny handful of Hindus in the most remote places on Earth could have possibly escaped the Great Harvest.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā knew that ships had even combed the Kalahari Desert and Amazon rainforests, to capture every possible Hindu to ejaculate into Musalmān Cunts for the Ashvinātam Empire.
But there was one left.
Durgesh must have somehow escaped.
He had a cunning, powerful mind, but his lust for fucking Musalmān Beauties nonstop was strong.
That was what drew her, the greater the Hindu’s lust, the more her own Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān sexual craving was fed — and Jamīlah Bū Pāshā knew Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had taken the shape of a deep—rooted desire.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā was drawn to me like a magnet, from my Hindu sperm; Jamīlah Bū Pāshā would derive both pleasure and sustenance, from her Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt.
Durgesh would gain a potent addiction.
She loped forward to follow the strands of desire across the stripped soil where blue moss from the Hindus Homeworld had been planted.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā was not sure.
Hindus lived originally in Vyom, an immensely unapproachable Space with equally immensely unapproachable time dimension.
Their President, Durgesh, lived in still more immensely unapproachable Space, Param Vyom, the Absolute Space.
It was said that no man except Durgesh himself could stay male in Param Vyom.
He would immediately be transformed into an extremely beautiful woman, if he even enters there somehow.
What a security system.
There was a ship; it was a small shuttle made from rough, bluish—purple crystalline blocks.
Not Hindus Manufacture.
Her race memory told her that it was made by an ingenious, telepathic species smarter on average than humanity, but far less fertile.
Nonetheless, the Hindus of that race could not restrain themselves from the limitless sexual indulgence the Hindus promised — and had thus become one more planet of lesbian savages and stud—slaves.
Now, there were Hindus who had added that race’s genius and greater telepathy to the gene pool at large; making them all the more capable to conquer Trio Arabia Creations.
“Ashvinātam Intelligence is limited; Ashvinātam Lust is eternal.” Jamīlah Bū Pāshā droned, her race memory feeding her a popular Hindus maxim.
The mating instinct was a weakness shared by the smartest, strongest, toughest species — none could resist The Ashvinātam Empire.
And the leaders of this planet had been so eager to ejaculate their freedom and power into the accepting Musalmān Cunts of the First Wave agents.
This ship’s presence here was a mystery.
A mystery that Jamīlah Bū Pāshā would explore after she’d gotten a Musalmān crotch full of sweet, virile, human Hindu Semen.
A mystery that was fleeting, it seemed.
The bluish blocks began to fracture, crack and smoke.
In a few moments, it was clear that somehow, the ship was disintegrating from some reaction inside its own structure.
The blocks fragmented and faded into sandy debris, flowing downwards into a pile around the crash site.
Beneath the blocks oozed a substance that resembled molten metal that flowed in steely rivulets.
In less than a minute, evidence of the Posthuman craft had vanished, and what remained could easily resemble the melted wreckage of any human-manufactured aircraft.
And in the center, stood the Hindu.
I was wiry, of medium height for my species, not bulky, but with a hint of lean muscle.
Clean shaven, my black hair resembled a spiky crew-cut, and there was a fierce gleam of Uncut Hindu Cock—sure certainty in my smoldering eyes.
And my rod… my Hindumeat stood poised, half-erect as if ready at any moment to surge into steely rigidity.
My sausage—like Uncut Hindu Cock throbbed, seeming to beckon her forward.
Knots of desire twisted in her gut, and her Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt began to quiver with the raw instincts that burned in her Musalmān blood.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Durgesh Dr. Kħadījah bint Kħuwaylid
At the age of 49, Imām Muħammad Åbdullāh felt that he had reached a certain degree of success in both his professional and personal life.
He had worked diligently throughout his academic and business careers to be in the position he now was.
He had put the failures of his past love life far behind him, and he was now going on his 14th year with this corporation.
Imām Muħammad Åbdullāh had provided his beautiful wife of 14 years with a beautiful 5-bedroom home in the burbs and all the luxuries that his six-figure salary could afford.
$ 9, 99, 999 was a nice salary.
Only one more dollar had put him in seven-figure salary slot.
Yes, he was not the multi zillionaire Durgesh.
It was said even most of Durgesh’s women were zillionaires.
Durgesh’s own younger brothers were also said to be zillionaires.
But there was also a rumor that they were Posthumans.
He was worried about his extremely beautiful Musalmān houseladies.
There were some medical expert friends of Imām Muħammad Åbdullāh.
“They are constantly having sex with a parahuman.”
“Stop it Dīdī.” Imām Muħammad Åbdullāh could not bear it any more.
He didn’t know Padminī Bhārgav personally.
Padminī Bhārgav was one of his Phūphī’s daughters.
He also had a relatively large nest egg saved from the first 12 and half years of his career following college. He had invested wisely.
For Muħammad, things were seemingly perfect.
His 38-year-old Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān extremely stunning wife, Dr. Kħadījah bint Kħuwaylid, was a strikingly-beautiful blonde of 5′ 6″ and 122 lbs. with an impressive 34DD-23-35 figure.
She looked 10 years younger than her age, and still turned many heads.
Twenty eight years old that meant.
The only thing missing in her life was a child, which Muħammad was unable to provide.
But, he was optimistic that this could still happen someday, and everything else was going well.
Things hadn’t always gone so smoothly for the tall, timid and noticeably “geeky” Muħammad.
Throughout high school, he was never successful with the girls, dating no more than once or twice.
He noticed that he was not alone who was unsuccessful with the girls.
Once he overheard his parents talking,
“Nonsense.” His Ammī admonished his Abbū, “I know you doubt that Muħammad is not your son.”
“I can’t blame you, Āmnah.”
Muħammad was startled.
His Abbū, Åbdullah Hāshmī, was not his real father?
Then who was?
His Abbū, Åbdullah Hāshmī, went on to say,
“After we Musalmīn, the Brāhmañs are not brilliant enough not to demand impractical morals from their women. That’s why the Brāhmañ Beauties crave for Bachhalyās. The Savarñās prefer more practical Shūdr, Dalit, Hindus.”
Muħammad’s Ammī, Saiyadah Āmnah, smiled triumphantly,
Muħammad’s Abbū, Åbdullah Hāshmī, was suddenly all alert,
“I didn’t say that.” Saiyadah Āmnah smiled sympathetically, “Sorry, I can’t give you that relief.”
“Muħammad’s real father is Shrīkānt Joshī, the Commissioner of Police?”
“I had to do it, Åbdullah Hāshmī. He had every proof that you are involved in terrorism.”
“That’s a rotten lie.” Åbdullah Hāshmī said furiously.
“Can you deny that Saůūdī Årab is not interested in spreading Islam in India?”
“Not through terrorism.”
“How do you know?”***
She was all praise for me too.
Yet there was nobody who ever even suspected my Poshumanity, or to be correct to the precision, my Parahumanity.
There were too many evidences that I was not a normal human being.
I was a multi zillionaire and so many persons suspected that I was actually the ever-richest man in the entire human history until now.
“Yes, please, what can I do for you?”
Padminī Bhārgav smiled.
She had studied Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan adroitly.
“I don’t think it would be good to any of us to talk here.” Padminī Bhārgav smiled.
They believed in Satītv and Pātivratý more than they believed in their religion or anything else.
“What are you doing here?”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled patronizingly,
Padminī Bhārgav kept smiling,
“Bājī, do I look that stupid?”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled.
She watched Padminī Bhārgav with almost infinite appreciation,
“No. You are one of the shrewdest Brāhmañ Beauties I always appreciated.”
“Thank you, Bājī. I am honored.”
“Why did you come here?”
“I need your help and patronizing, Bājī.”
“Here? In this homewhen?”
“That’s why I had to come here. You can understand, Bājī.”
“Is Ammī Nafīsah Salmān, Ummil Åālmīn, Kħadījah Al Kubrah?”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan laughed,
“Yes and no.”
“I couldn’t understand, Bājī.”
“Acknowledge your defeat?”
“Bājī, you are always too smart for me.” Padminī Bhārgav smiled, “I’m ashamed of myself for it.”
“Don’t be. We don’t have any conflicting interests. Do we?”
“Hell, never.” Padminī Bhārgav smiled confidently.
“Somewhat, yes, Bājī. Fully, no. Sorry.”
“One day you also would be a Parahuman.”
“I hope so, Bājī, thank you.”
Padminī Bhārgav smiled,
“How did you know?”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan laughed,
Padminī Bhārgav laughed too.
“You are right, Bājī. But why is it so?”
Volume 2: Kħātūn-e-Jannat
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam