The Everbest Wives
The warm, breezy, summer air flowed into the bedroom through the two open windows.
The soft rustle of the white sheers as they flew out from the wind gusts, was a relaxing sound.
Al Tåzīm Al Islām was slowly waking up, feeling the sun’s rays coming through the window, hitting her skin and warming her all over.
There was a conference of the stepdaughters of her Hindu father, led by Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånahā herself.
They requested Durgesh, their Anant Muslimātchod utmost successful Hindu father too to attend it.
“Sorry,” I smiled at them, “I know in so many societies, incest is becoming normal now, even being respected. ‘Father husband’, ‘brother husband’ ‘daughter wife’, ‘sister wife’, are becoming normal advanced ultramodern relations too, even honored manywhere. Yet, I still don’t like it. Count me out, please!”
Al Tåzīm Al Islām was on her stomach, turning her head on her pillow so she could feel the warmth shine directly onto her face.
She hadn’t yet opened her eyes, instead, suddenly feeling chilled from the inside out.
It was a thought, a feeling, a shocked wonderment…why, at 23-years-old, was she still alone?
Well, she really DID know the answer to that, she always had, from the time Al Tåzīm Al Islām was a kid.
But, as always, she’d kept those thoughts and emotions to herself, buried deep inside, where they belonged.
When the aroma of freshly brewed coffee whiffed through the air, Al Tåzīm Al Islām opened her eyes and smiled broadly,
“Daddy,” Al Tåzīm Al Islām whispered to herself. She got up and put on her light-blue and white cotton bathrobe, and walked downstairs to the kitchen.
She wanted to say, ‘Daddy husband’, ‘Daddy, my unique love’, etcetera, but she knew it would antagonize her sixty-five years old Hindu love.
Al Tåzīm Al Islām could never afford it.
Yes, Durgesh is forty years older than Al Tåzīm Al Islām is.
Ħuzūr sallallāhu ålayhi wa sallam were forty four years older when he consummated love with Ummil Mominīn Ħazrat Åāyeshah Siddīqah razī Allāhu tålā ånahā.
Islam never recognized marriages oriented to the ages of the marrying partners.
What a foolish, stupid, unscientific and immensely impractical idea it is!
It has destroyed countless marriages.
It has increased the number of divorcees immensely, but the non-Muslims never understood why Islam preached it.
The stupid dumb asses.
Islam always cared of the genes transfer to the next generation.
Moreover, an older experienced husband is always preferred in Islam than an ever-inexperienced male child that doesn’t know anything first hand of marital duties and responsibilities.
“Morning, daddy,” she said, smiling at me as Al Tåzīm Al Islām walked over and kissed my forehead.
“Morning, Al Tåzīm Al Islām,” I smiled back.
I drank my coffee while I waited for her to get her coffee and sit down with me.
This was our daily morning routine, since her Abbū, Doctor Muħammad Islam left them.
He charged her Ammī, Al Tawħīd Al Muħammad that she wanted to cuckold him to her Hindu lover Durgesh and herself.
“It isn’t true, Your Honor,” her Ammī, Al Tawħīd Al Muħammad, pleaded, “Doctor Muħammad Islam himself pleaded me to let him play a cuckold Musalmān husband to get favor from Ummil Åālmīn Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånahā,”
A video was played in the court to support her statement.
The Judge wasn’t startled.
She looked down to Doctor Muħammad Islam thoughtfully.
“Your honor, I wanted to test the extent of her Durgesh obsession.” Doctor Muħammad Islam answered when he was given the opportunity to refute the evidence provided by defense in the videos, “I expected her to refuse me to cuckold, but…”
“I object to his statement, Your Honor.” Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī objected, “The videos shown here reveal my client, Al Tawħīd Al Muħammad, refused to cuckold him, but Doctor Muħammad Islam insisted. My client yielded ultimately. She thought he needed it. Nowadays surprisingly, there are so many Musalmān husbands that plead to, their otherwise ever faithful ardent Musalmān wives, to cuckold them to Durgesh and to their own Musalmān wives. We have a large number of videos to prove our point.”*
Judge Åārifah Pŧhān looked at the Public Prosecutor.
A deputy district attorney arose to present the prosecution’s point of view,
“If the court please, the prosecution has already stated that the authenticity of the videos is not being challenged by the prosecution. Doctor Muħammad Islam never claimed he never requested his wife, Al Tawħīd Al Muħammad, to cuckold him. He wanted to please his wife.”
“To the extent to be cuckolded to her and her Hindu lover, the Mayor of Ved Nagar, Durgesh?” Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī smiled ironically, “Your Honor, if the prosecution admits that, why the separation at all?”
“Your Honor,” deputy district attorney answered, “that’s the point. We wanted those videos to be produced in the court. But the prosecution could not do it, because the party opposing the separation was itself planning to oppose the introduction of them as evidence. The prosecution hadn’t another alternative except to spread the rumors that the prosecution does not want them introduced.”
Judge Åārifah Pŧhān deliberately did not smile.
It was against the dignity of the court.
Yet she appreciated the strategy of the prosecution to make the defense itself to produce those videos in support of their own arguments.
However, it was reaching the adjournment.
Judge Åārifah Pŧhān adjourned the court for next date.
Everyone knew I, Al Tåzīm Al Islām’s new Hindu father, was a very handsome man by all accounts.
I had kept up my fine physique even at my sixty-five.
I was toned and fit from my daily Stavans, Weekly Mandrs, Monthly Satrs, Parvs, lap swims and gym workouts.
Al Tåzīm Al Islām had always been more of a home-body type of girl.
Al Tåzīm Al Islām was sweetness and cheerfulness, personified.
She’d always been a ‘daddy’s girl’.
When Al Tåzīm Al Islām graduated high school, she had refused to go away to college, as her siblings had.
Al Tåzīm Al Islām wanted to live at home while attending the University.
Given how smart Al Tåzīm Al Islām was and her academics, she graduated from high school at age 16; and graduated from college with her Bachelor’s Degree when Al Tåzīm Al Islām was 20.
After graduation, Al Tåzīm Al Islām wanted to start her own company, working from home.
Therefore, we remodeled one of the bedrooms, making it into an office on one end of the room, and her product storage on the opposite end.
She had a good business head about her and now, three years later, Al Tåzīm Al Islām was single-handedly managing a very lucrative business.
As was our regular morning routine, Hindu father and Musalmān daughter, after we have a couple cups of coffee and chat for a bit, we each went to our own rooms and shower and dress for the day.
Since both our bedrooms and home offices were upstairs, after we’d each get ready, we’d meet in the hallway and chat for a few more minutes, then each go to our respective offices to start to work.
For lunch, we always ate together, going out about half the time, giving us a chance to get out of the house and clear our heads before returning to work.
The same routine existed for supper, as well.
To most, it might sound like a boring or lackluster way of life, but for Al Tåzīm Al Islām and me, we loved it.*
It was homey, it was being together, it was comfortable, and we were content, just the way things were.
Things would have probably continued as we always have been, if Al Tåzīm Al Islām hadn’t had a small accident.
That one unforeseen fluke, changed everything.
Al Tåzīm Al Islām had recently changed bedrooms and moved into what had formerly been the ‘in-law suite’.
It had a large bedroom with a private bathroom, and a separate private, small living room.
Growing up, it was kept as a guest bedroom.
However, when Al Tåzīm Al Islām needed a larger home office, we did some rearranging and remodeling.
I continued to stay in the master suite I’d always had.
My home office was next to my bedroom, so it made sense to keep it the same, as well.
What used to be Al Tåzīm Al Islām and Al Tawħīd Al Muħammad’s old bedroom, was now remodeled.
It was now Al Tåzīm Al Islām’s new home office.
Now, the three bedrooms that were upstairs, Mine, Al Tåzīm Al Islām’s, and the guest bedroom, all had their own, private bathrooms.
The other two former bedrooms were now the home offices of Al Tåzīm Al Islām and me.
Since we were the only two who ever really used the upstairs, it was a floor plan that worked beautifully for us.
While Al Tåzīm Al Islām was in her shower that morning, she happened to notice that a couple of the newly-installed glass tiles in her shower had come loose and the corners were sticking out.
She made a mental note to tell me so it could be fixed. Continuing to shower, she slipped, although slightly, it was enough to throw her off balance a little and she inadvertently backed up rather hurriedly, into the tiles, scraping her head against it, causing a deep cut.
When she turned off the water, she looked down and saw blood dripping down her shoulders and chest.
Always one to get queasy and even faint at the sight of blood, she sat down on the custom-made shower bench and leaned against the shower wall.
She felt light headed at having seen her blood.
I had by now showered, dressed and was waiting in the hallway for Al Tåzīm Al Islām.
I thought I heard a sound but when I stopped and listened, it was quiet.
“Must be the radio,” I chuckled to myself.
However, a minute later, I heard what sounded like objects hitting a wall, as if someone was throwing things.
“Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā! It wasn’t a radio…Al Tåzīm Al Islām!”
I was confined into Al Tåzīm Al Islām’s room.
Yet, now could hear her moaning from the bathroom.
When I saw her sitting in the shower, semi propped up against the wall, her head dripping blood…I was gravely concerned suddenly.
“Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā! Oh, my God! Al Tåzīm Al Islām, are you okay? Oh, Al Tåzīm Al Islām!”
I picked up her naked extremely beautiful young Musalmān body, carrying her to her bed and laid her down.
I went to her dresser, grabbed a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, concernedly dressing her.
I picked her up again, and carried her downstairs.
I scooped up my keys and wallet off the kitchen table and carried Al Tåzīm Al Islām out to the car.
I got her settled in, then drove to the ER of our local hospital.
Seeing the blood coming from Al Tåzīm Al Islām’s head as soon as I walked into the ER carrying her, a Lady Doctor working at the front desk immediately escorted us back to a room in the ER.
When they asked me to step out after Al Tåzīm Al Islām was in the hospital bed, I came unhinged.
“The hell I will. This is my daughter and I brought her here, and I’ll be damned if you’re going to push me out. My place is with her…she’s very very much important to me in my world…got it?”
“No problem sir, you can stay.”
Al Tåzīm Al Islām turned to me and lifted up her hand for me to hold it. As I held her hand, rubbing my thumb on the back of her hand, she looked up at me,
“My head hurts so bad. Can we give me an aspirin?”
The Lady Doctor heard her and replied,
“We can’t give you anything yet. Let me ask you a few questions then we’ll get you a shot for the pain, sweetie.”
She did give her a shot for pain, and soon got the cut sewn up.
“No permanent injury,” the doctor said, “but she’ll have a headache for a day or two, she had a nasty cut. The shot we gave her will make her sleep for a few hours. Here’s a prescription for some pills that will help with her headaches, and another prescription for an ointment that needs to be applied three times a day to the wound; it will help keep out infection as it heals. You’ll need to follow up with your family doctor in about one week, and I can assess how she’s progressing at that time.”
I refused to put Al Tåzīm Al Islām in a wheelchair as we were leaving; I was carrying Al Tåzīm Al Islām, simple as that.
“Durgesh?” Al Tåzīm Al Islām said groggily on our way home, “Will you get me a milkshake…sounds so good.”
I laughed, thinking the pain shot we gave her was making her a little loopy, but, what the hell,
After getting the chocolate milkshake, I tried to hold it with one hand, so Al Tåzīm Al Islām could drink it, and drive with my other hand.
When we arrived at home, once again scooping her up in my arms, I looked down and noticed that between the deep V-neck of her white t-shirt, she had spilt several drops of the chocolate shake, on the top of her boobs.
I leaned my head down to lick them up when I caught myself.
“What the hell am I doing?”
I chastised myself as I carried Al Tåzīm Al Islām inside the house, now in a deep sleep.
Not willing to leave her alone, I carried her into my home office, laid her down on my imported, Italian-leather suede sofa and covered her up with a blanket.
As I worked at my desk for the next few hours, I began to think I was actually watching her more than I was watching the jet-engine blueprints I was working on.
“Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā,” I said to myself. “Al Tåzīm Al Islām’s out cold from medication, she’s got stitches in her head from a cut, and I’m not right because she’s over there, and I’m over here…I’m not paying proper attention she needs now.”
I got up and went over to the couch.
I gently lifted Al Tåzīm Al Islām’s head and sat down, now placing her head and pillow in my lap.
She didn’t wake up, but seemed to feel my presence in her sleep.
She sighed and turned on her side, nuzzling her face in my abdomen, and continued to sleep.
I draped one arm across her stomach and placed my other hand on the top of her head, combing her hair back from off her face with my fingers.
I leaned my own head back against the couch and within a couple of minutes, I myself drifted off to sleep.
I wasn’t sure how long I slept, but I woke up when I felt Al Tåzīm Al Islām starting to become restless.
“Al Tåzīm Al Islām, you okay, honey?”
“Durgesh?” she flickered her eyes a few times before they slowly started opening.
When she saw my face smiling down at her, she smiled broadly at me.
“Hi sweetie,” I said, kissing Al Tåzīm Al Islām’s forehead.
“Hey, Durgesh, I’m glad you’re here. Thanks for staying with me.”
Al Tåzīm Al Islām puckered her lips for me to kiss her.
As I’d done a thousand times before, I gave her a fatherly peck on her lips.
Although this time, Al Tåzīm Al Islām’s arms went around my neck and she gently held me in place when I leaned my head down.
Al Tåzīm Al Islām lingered her warm, soft, lips, on mine, lightly brushing them over the surface before pressing her lips firmly against mine.
Instinctively, I pulled back, shocked out of my mind.
“Durgesh.” There was something in the way she said that word that went directly to my Anant Muslimātchod unique legendary Uncut Hindu Lund.
It wasn’t a voice of a daughter or even a stepdaughter at all.
It was definitely the voice of a duly married wife to me, immensely in sexual love with me.
Al Tåzīm Al Islām told me everything in the syllables of that name.
Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā!
Al Tåzīm Al Islām!
My duly married immensely loving wife?
I had never even imagined of it.
Nevertheless, that was Al Tåzīm Al Islām in her heart and mind absolutely.
Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā!*
For a moment, I allowed myself to become, emotionally washed away, in Al Tåzīm Al Islām’s touch and kiss.
Her tongue sweetly parted my lips and within seconds we were kissing as passionately as I had ever kissed before in my life.
I couldn’t remember a time recently I’d ever felt such passion, such devotion, such total giving of a woman to me.
But then the other reality came crashing down on me.
“Stop, honey. We can’t kiss like that, Al Tåzīm Al Islām.” I reached up and gently removed Al Tåzīm Al Islām’s arms from around my neck.
“Honey, it was the medication you’re on. Go back to sleep.” My Anant Muslimātchod unique legendary Uncut Hindu Lund, ever dreamed by almost entire womankind, was nevertheless rock hard.
Al Tåzīm Al Islām’s mouth was absolutely amazing!
“Hell…that’s Al Tåzīm Al Islām for Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā!” I thought to myself.
“I love you, Durgesh,” Al Tåzīm Al Islām pouted.
“Honey, I love you, too. But we can’t kiss like that.” I traced Al Tåzīm Al Islām’s face with my fingertips.
“Mmmm…it feels good, Durgesh.”
“Just relax and go back to sleep, Al Tåzīm Al Islām.”
“Kiss me again, Durgesh…please.”
“No, honey. It’s better for you to rest right now.” Everything inside me was at war…my father’s love was battling with the romantic love, trying to convince me to simply open my mind and heart to her in a whole new way, and to love her.
“Al Tåzīm Al Islām, now stop it. You’ll feel better later, just sleep now.”
“I’m awake now, Durgesh. And I’ll feel better when you kiss me.” Al Tåzīm Al Islām was one that had never argued with me.
Her temperament was always so sweet and easy going; we had only had a few disagreements in 23 years.
“Al Tåzīm Al Islām! That’s enough, honey. Now stop.”
“I’ll go to sleep if you kiss me.”
This time, Al Tåzīm Al Islām delicately slid her soft hands underneath My pull-over shirt, and splayed her hands on my chest, running her fingertips over there, just at the moment my lips made contact with hers.
She let out a soft, deep, moan.
My arm that was around Al Tåzīm Al Islām’s waist pulled her extremely beautiful young Musalmān body closer to me and my mouth started wanting to devour Al Tåzīm Al Islām.
Suddenly, I stopped,
“No! Al Tåzīm Al Islām, please, honey, we can’t!”
I gently lifted her head and pillow up from out of my lap, laying us back down on the couch as I stood up.
“I’ve got work to finish,” I was talking to Al Tåzīm Al Islām as I walked around my desk to sit down. “You go back to sleep and I’ll be here when you wake up.”
I was done talking; I started flipping through my latest blueprints, making notes over to the side, not once looking back over at Al Tåzīm Al Islām.
What Al Tåzīm Al Islām didn’t realize was that I had such a massive hard-on, I was doing my best to not only hide it, but also to will it to go down; feeling terribly uncomfortable for getting a boner from my sexual thoughts about Al Tåzīm Al Islām.
Al Tåzīm Al Islām!
Al Tåzīm Al Islām looked sadly at me, but the medication was still making it too easy for her to sleep.
She softly whimpered.
Her feelings were a little hurt by my sudden and abrupt departure.
She rolled over on her side and stared at me, not able to hold her eyes open for long, and soon fell asleep.
I noticed her eyes finally close and her breathing changed into deep, slow breathes, indicating Al Tåzīm Al Islām was asleep.
I let out a deep sigh and flopped back into my tall, leather, desk chair.
“What the hell was that?” I said out loud to myself.
I stared at Al Tåzīm Al Islām thoughtfully.
“It’s got to be the medication,” I thoughtfully murmured.
I tried to get back to work, but I could only concentrate for about two whole seconds at a time.
I’d look over at Al Tåzīm Al Islām, who, in her V-neck, white t-shirt and no bra, her full ‘C-cup-bordering-on-D-cup-tits, look so supple and soft.
They seemed to call out to me to touch the milky-soft, pink skin.
I was mesmerized by their natural Musalmān beauty.
I ached to squeeze them, to feel the delicate Musalmān softness.
Control yourself, Durgesh.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan has made you habitual of having sex with Jet Musalmān Beauties, most of the time.
Never forget it, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan has done it deliberately with a definite purpose.
To establish her ever dreamed Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah.
That’s what Shahanshāh Jalāluddīn Muħammad Akbar has utmost successfully done once.
He compelled Musalmīn to marry their ardent Musalmān womankind with the Hindu mankind.
His son, Jahāngīr, did the same.
Shāhjahān did the same.
It ran for three generations nonstop.
Yet, what happened after that?
Didn’t it made possible the rise of Aurangzeb?
Wasn’t Darashikoh killed because he wanted to continue the same Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is obsessed to establish?
Do you want the rise of another Aurangzeb?
Try to come out of the conspiracy of Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and her bandit horny Musalmān queens.
How a born Hindu is always a better husband for a born Muslimah, than a born Musalmān husband is?
It’s Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and her bandit horny Musalmān queens’ Jet Musalmān Beauties Squad’s political strategy only.
Moreover, that’s too is dangerous in long term.
If you really want to protect innocent Darashikohs from Aurangzebs, prevent it right now.
Yes, Akbar was a great human being.
Nevertheless, it doesn’t mean everything he has done is correct.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam