Kħātūn-e-Jannat: 2
Posted: January 17, 2012 Filed under: Adult Science Fiction, Ashvinatam, Bachhalyās, Brahmkanyās, Brahmāñīs., Muslimahs, Muslimat | Tags: Ashvinatam, Ashvinatam sex, Ashvinatam Yugal, Åāýéshah Abu Bakr, Bachhalyās, Behavioural Science, Durgesh, Feminism, Jamīlah Bū Pāshā, life sciences, Mohan Giridhar, Muslim Feminism, Muslim girls love a Hindu, Muslim girls marry a Hindu, Muslim women love a Hindu, Muslim women marry a Hindu, Muħammad Åbdullah Hāshmī, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, Nafīsah Salmān, Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī, Saiyadah Āmnah, Saiyadā Fātimah PhD, Shankar Mahā Rudr, Sidrah Aħmad, society, Sophisticated Positive adult sex, Vikram Āditý, Zaynab Muħammad Åbdullah Hāshmī 8 CommentsKħātūn-e-Jannat
Chapter 2
Muħammad Åbdullah Hāshmī had to fly to Ved Nagar from Miami.
His Ammī had returned to Ved Nagar.
His daughters also accompanied him.
His Ammī, Saiyadah Āmnah, had left them behind her to welcome Muħammad Åbdullah Hāshmī in his own homewhen.
They reached Ved Nagar even sooner than Muħammad Åbdullah Hāshmī had anticipated.
“Abbū, so earlier?” Zaynab Muħammad Åbdullah Hāshmī was surprised, “This City is really a dream City now.”
Saiyadah Fātimah Muħammad PhD retorted,
“Yes, I can see Bājī. You live here now.”
Zaynab Muħammad Åbdullah Hāshmī laughed,
“Not only myself. It’s a City of Parahumen and zillionaires. Believe it or not, there are persons now who suspect this City is the Capitol of HVS.”
“Allah, Bājī, you and your Durgesh addiction.”
Zaynab Muħammad Åbdullah Hāshmī laughed.
To Saiyadah Fātimah Muħammad PhD’s further embarrassment, her Time Traveler Abbū also laughed.
“It’s Scientific Achievement, my dear. They say: ‘There wasn’t any Mi’raj. It isn’t possible.’ Nonsense.”
“With the invention of Time Traveling, the impossibility of Mi’raj has itself become impossible.” Zaynab Muħammad Åbdullah Hāshmī said cheerfully.
Muħammad Åbdullah Hāshmī was surprised to see that his Ammī, Saiyadah Āmnah, herself had come to greet her son.
“Ammī!” he had an unbearable desire to rush to the Jet Musalmān Beauty and embrace her, to hug her wildly and let her pound his back.
Muħammad Åbdullah Hāshmī wanted to do all the foolish things a son did to his Ammī after a separation.
But he was stunned when the Jet Musalmān Beauty whispered into his ear,
“Time Traveler, I’m not your Ammī. I’m your Ammī’s very very personal lady robot.”
Muħammad Åbdullah Hāshmī couldn’t believe his eyes.
He would have jumped showing his immense surprise if the lady robot hadn’t requested him,
“Your Ammī doesn’t want this secret known to anyone except yourself.”***
Muħammad Åbbās Hāshmī couldn’t afford to look his daughters even.
He doubted he might give away to his daughters.
It would not be in accordance his Ammī’s plans.
“It’s good to see you, Ammī, again.” He managed to say somehow.
Zaynab Muħammad Åbdullah Hāshmī looked at him but he was not sure she had suspected anything unusual or not.
In his vast Time Travel Muħammad Åbdullah Hāshmī had faced so many impossible things and events, he found nothing surprising in his Ammī’s behavior.
Of course, he didn’t know why his Jet Musalmān Beauty Ammī had resorted to it.
He didn’t know even when the lady robot exactly identical to her was made by his Ammī.
He knew however his Ammī herself had time traveled when she was nineteen only.
During her Time Travel she had learned the secret of keeping herself always a Jet Musalmān Beauty though he was not a young man anymore.
Robot Saiyadah Āmnah took her ‘son’s hand and pressed it with firm coolness.
Her finger closed to a comfortable but not painful pressure and then released it.
Muħammad Åbdullah Hāshmī hoped earnestly that the creature’s unreadable eyes could not penetrate his mind.
Allah, did his own mother wanted to keep more efficient eyes on him?
Why otherwise she had sent her very personal robot to welcome him?
It was a fact Muħammad Åbdullah Hāshmī couldn’t understand his Jet Musalmān Beauty Ammī’s behavior ever.
Dr. Saiyadah Āmnah was a mystery herself.
Her Live in Relationship Partner Durgesh was a greater mystery.
The new City, the Multi Zillionaire lived now with his zillionaire Posthumen brothers, friends and followers, Ved Nagar was not a lesser mystery also.
He pinched himself.
No, he was not dreaming.
He was very much awake.
It was surprising to him that even after knowing that it was not his Ammī, a lady robot instead, all of him was still concentrated into a feeling of an intense love for his Ammī.
No, he still didn’t believe that he was a Time Traveler because he licked his Ammī’s vaginal juices mixed with my Hindu Vīrý since he was born.
He never believed that his Ammī fed him her vaginal juices mixed with my Hindu Vīrý instead of milk ab initio.
But, yes, since he came to his own senses, Muħammad Åbdullah Hāshmī was licking his Ammī’s vaginal juices mixed with my Hindu Vīrý.
Muħammad Åbdullah Hāshmī never understood what his Time Traveler Ammī was after actually.
There was a rumor that his Ammī was preparing to claim that she was Ummil Rasūlallāh Ħuzūrsreincarnated.
He had laughed.
“Then perhaps she is preparing to claim myself Ħuzūrs himself.”
Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr looked at him gravely.
“I won’t be surprised if Ammījān claims it.”
“Nonsense.” Muħammad Åbdullah Hāshmī thundered at his ever best friend.
“I haven’t told you something myself, Muħammad.”
Muħammad Åbdullah Hāshmī laughed ironically.
“Don’t tell me that your Ammī is also doing the same thing with you too.”
“No, but someone else is performing that role for her.”
“What?” Muħammad Åbdullah Hāshmī was startled.
“My wife.” Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr said gravely.
“Yes.”
“She has managed you to clean her vaginal juices mixed with Durgesh’s Hindu Vīrý after Durgesh fucks her?”
“Sure.”*
Robot Saiyadah Āmnah looked at Muħammad Åbdullah Hāshmī.
“Durgesh needs your Ammī, Dr. Saiyadah Āmnah to amend some Time Cycles of extinction of human race.”
Muħammad Åbdullah Hāshmī smiled,
“I see. That’s why your services are obtained?”
“Keep it to yourself.”
“Tell me one thing if you know.”
“Yes?”
“There is a rumor that Ammījān is planning to claim she is…”
“Ummil Rasūlallāh Ħuzūrs?” lady robot Saiyadah Āmnah smiled.
“Is it right?”
“If it is, it’s part of the amendment of time cycles.”
“You don’t know?”
“I’m told only what she thinks necessary.”
“I’d heard Ved Nagar is highly robotized.” Muħammad Åbdullah Hāshmī tried to change the subject.
It was not good to whisper in the presence of his daughters.
“Ten thousand robots per human is the current ratio.”
“All of them are lady robots ?”
“Don’t be silly. It isn’t necessary. We lady robots are too costly to be used unnecessarily. Any humanoid robot is itself costly. We lady robots require more expertise.”
“Allah, isn’t it costly in itself, ‘Ten thousand robots per human’, I mean?”
“It is by far the highest such ratio. Only Solaria among the outer worlds can afford to imitate Ved Nagar/Trantor in the matter.”***
On the surface, Jamīlah Bū Pāshā was just a grand looking Turk Musalmān woman in her early thirties.
An extremely beautiful face with long, black hair and distinguishable Arabian features inherited from her Ammī.
She always wore lose fitting clothing that hid her figure pretty well.
So most people who would see her had no idea that she had a firm, shapely Musalmān body with large, c-cup breast and a tight Turk Musalmān ass.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā considered it shameful to show herself in public, a result of years of Orthodox Muslim school teaching.
Indeed unlike most of the Jamīlah Bū Pāshā was a very conservative Turk Musalmān woman.
She had remained almost a virgin until her late twenties when she married her husband.
And even with him, her idea of sex was that of a quick missionary-style fuck.
She would never allow him to go down on her, or even entertain the thought of sucking him.
Although she did desire to cum herself during sex.
But usually had her husband rub her clit with his fingers to bring her to climax before having him mount her for a quick session.
In addition to being conservative, Jamīlah Bū Pāshā was also quite a snob.
Her family had done well for themselves over the years, and being rich, she did not have to worry about finances ever.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā always considered herself a step above those around her.
At work, she was commonly referred to as “The Turk Musalmān Bitch” behind her back.
So it was easy for her to quit working once her husband completed his residency and became a staff surgeon in a local hospital.
Unfortunately, his job required him to attend several medical conferences each year, often leaving Jamīlah Bū Pāshā home alone.
Little did she know that one of his reasons for going alone was to often find someone to pleasure him as a gay since he couldn’t declare his being a gay at home.
On Friday morning, Jamīlah Bū Pāshā dropped her husband off at the airport.
He was flying to Kansas to spend the weekend with his Ammī, then off to Washington for a two-day conference.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā was planning to leave early the next morning for a couple nights away at a hot springs spa herself and would no doubt be out of contact with her husband until Monday night.
On her way home from the airport Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had the misfortune of getting a flat tire.
She managed to reach a service station.
She waltzed into the service bay and requested that someone replace her tire.
The attendant politely took her information but when he didn’t move quickly enough for her, she became demanding to the point of being insulting.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had no time to waste on blue-collar Indian Hindu workers who were jobless in India, due to their extraordinary incompetence in studies, and came to Turkey for work.
Moreover her attitude showed.
Still, the 18-year old Hindu attendant took down her information, then slowly, very slowly, had her tire repaired and replaced back onto the vehicle.
Instead of being grateful, Jamīlah Bū Pāshā called the manager to task for hiring such a dim-witted idiot to work there, paid her bill, and left.
Shankar Mahā Rudr did not like the way he was treated by Jamīlah Bū Pāshā one bit.
He detested arrogant Musalmān women like her.
And hearing her complaints to his manager had made things worse.
Shankar Mahā Rudr stewed over the incident the rest of the day.
Then decided that he wanted to get revenge.
Shankar Mahā Rudr had overheard Jamīlah Bū Pāshā on her cell phone while she was waiting.
He heard her mention that her husband was out of town and that she was going to be out of town as well.
Shankar Mahā Rudr went to the file cabinet and pulled out the day’s tickets, finding hers he took note of the address.
A pretty nice neighborhood a little more than sixty-miles from where he lived.
Shankar Mahā Rudr guessed that she probably only drove this far from home when she needed to go to the airport.
Thinking that her home would be empty for the weekend, Shankar Mahā Rudr decided to call a few of his Hindu buddies and pay the house a visit.
He thought that when she returned home to find the place ransacked and robbed that she would have a taste of what it felt like to be abused by someone.
Shankar Mahā Rudr was under educated as most of the Musalmīn were.
His Ammī was a Musalmān woman who was raped by a Hindu stranger.
Shankar Mahā Rudr had discovered his real Hindu father was a multi-millionaire.
He raped Shankar Mahā Rudr’s Ammī Nādirah Ashfāq because Nādirah Ashfāq hated Hindus and Rudr Mahāpralayankar wanted to teach Nādirah Ashfāq a lesson.
That night Shankar Mahā Rudr picked up three of his friends: Mohan Giridhar and Vikram Āditý, two cousins, ages 19 and 18, who had grown up with Shankar Mahā Rudr, and Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī, a tall Hindu kid who had dropped out of high school and spent a couple years wandering from town to town before settling down in their town.
At 21, Mohan Giridhar was the oldest of the group.
They drove the sixty miles to where Jamīlah Bū Pāshā lived.
Passed through the neighborhood checking things out.
Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī had plenty of experience with breaking and entering and offered his best advice.
He was particularly pleased to see that the house they targeted was pretty secluded with a nice long driveway.
Thick woods blocked one entire side from view from the street.
They pulled into the driveway, cut the lights and engine, and coasted down behind the trees and rolled off into the grass beside the garage where their car would be hidden from view.
There were no lights on in the house, or on any of the other nearby homes.
Not surprising for 2:00 am.
To avoid any possible alarm system they climbed a tree in the back yard and hopped onto the awning over the patio.
Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī found the bathroom window and used a small, thin piece of metal to slip it through the crack and unlock the window.
Then the four Hindu men slid easily into the bathroom and began creeping down the hall.
Finding the bedroom first, they walked in.
Since this was on the backside of the house, they didn’t worry about light and flicked the switch.
To their shock and surprise, Jamīlah Bū Pāshā was asleep in the bed.
When the light came on, she awoke with a start.
She jumped from the bed screaming.
She was dressed in a thin nightgown that did little to hide her extremely beautiful Turk Musalmān assets.
Her ample Turk Musalmān breast swayed under the material and her blue panties were clearly visible.
“Oh fuck!” Shankar Mahā Rudr yelled out upon their discovery.
Both Junior and Vikram Āditý stood frozen in near panic.
If not for Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī Jamīlah Bū Pāshā probably would have been able to rush out the door and perhaps make it to safety.
But the big Hindu man, acting with the instinct of one who had perhaps been in such situations before, jumped before her, wrapping his thick Hindu arms around her body and dove onto the bed pinning her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān body beneath him.
When Jamīlah Bū Pāshā tried to scream again Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī shoved a pillow over her face.
“Shit! Someone get me some fucking rope or something!” Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī yelled, trying to hold the kicking Turk Musalmān woman in place.
“Where?” Shankar Mahā Rudr replied.
“How the fuck do I know!” Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī yelled back. “Look around!”
The three Hindu men ran out of the room tossing open closets and other things.
Finally returning with some power cords, a short piece of string and some duct tape.
Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī sat on Jamīlah Bū Pāshā’s stomach while the other guys grabbed her hands and feet.
First, he needed to shut her up.
Reaching back he spotted her panties and with a quick, violent tug, ripped them off her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān body and shoved them into her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān mouth before using the duct tape to cover her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān mouth.
Successfully muffling her cries for help.
Then he rolled her over and used one of the cords and some more duct tape to secure her arms behind her back.
After tying her up, the four Hindu men stood over the bed.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā lay on the bed in fear.
She realized that, her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān Pussy was exposed.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā closed her legs tightly trying to keep it hidden.
But there was little she could do about covering her thick black bush.
Fortunately, for Shankar Mahā Rudr she did not recognize him at all.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had long ago chosen to not look those who were beneath her in the face unless necessary, and therefore had no remembrance of what the kid at the service station looked like.
“Damn, this Turk Musalmān Bitch has a fine body on her.” Vikram Āditý commented.
Shankar Mahā Rudr couldn’t help but agree.
He did not remember her looking this good this morning.
But then again, she wasn’t half-naked then either.
Then Shankar Mahā Rudr got an even better idea.
“Let’s really show Miss Rich-Extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān Bitch a lesson tonight.” He suggested as he leaned forward and took her left Turk Musalmān breast into his hand.
When Jamīlah Bū Pāshā began to roll away in protest Shankar Mahā Rudr squeezed it tightly causing her to gasp in pain.
“Yeah, I think we should all fuck the hell out of her.” Mohan Giridhar suggested.
He got no disagreement from the other three.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā began kicking frantically as they all jumped on the bed and began groping her.
She screamed against the gag as they tore her nightgown from her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān body.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā was pinned down by them as they probed her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān body.
She felt an Uncut Hindu Penis shove up into her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān Pussy and began thrashing about.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had allowed a couple Hindu boys to fuck her in high school.
But she told others that only her husband’s hands had explored her in full detail.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā reacted in horror to the experience going on now.
She was being sexually manhandled by four Hindu street punks, and one of them was Karosiā!
“I want her first.” Shankar Mahā Rudr yelled as he stood and removed his clothes.
Had it not been for the gag Jamīlah Bū Pāshā’s shrieks might have been heard throughout the neighborhood when she saw the young man climbing between her legs with his stiff 8-inch Hindu erection.
He dropped between her legs and began kissing her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān Pussy.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā thrust her hips trying to escape his probing Uncut Hindu Cock as he did to her something that she had never allowed any Hindu to do.
Hindu Hands squeezed her extremely beautiful Turk Musalmān tits and tweaked her nipples as the bandit between her legs rubbed away at her awfully lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān slit.
She felt him sucking and licking her awfully lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān Clit and could feel it enlarge.
Then she felt her own juices begin flowing freely and she reddened from head to toe.
Once satisfied that she was wet enough Shankar Mahā Rudr climbed up.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā tried to resist but was unable to move as he lowered himself onto her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān body.
Her arms were pinned beneath her back and Shankar Mahā Rudr was firmly between her extremely beautiful Musalmān legs.
She felt his Uncut Hindu Cock rub between her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān Pussy lips, easily gaining entrance against her will.
Then in one swift motion, Shankar Mahā Rudr plunged deep into her belly, jamming hard against her Turk Musalmān cervix.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā cried out in a mixture of fear, anger and humiliation as this Hindu punk become only the second person to put his Uncut Hindu Cock into her.
Shankar Mahā Rudr began ramming his Uncut Hindu Cock into her at will.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā could not believe this was happening to her.
She had always guarded her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān body.
Saved herself for marriage and committed herself to one man.
Now here she was being ravaged by a stranger Hindu with three more Hindus lined up behind him.
How could she ever face her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān husband again after tonight?
Shankar Mahā Rudr cared little for how Jamīlah Bū Pāshā might have felt.
All he knew was that he was getting revenge on this stuck-up extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān Bitch for all the women like her who have treated him like that.
Shankar Mahā Rudr knew that after tonight she would think twice before looking down on anyone else.
Shankar Mahā Rudr continued pounding her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān Pussy mercilessly, waiting for his moment of release.
Soon he could feel his Hindu balls tightening and knew that he would soon be cumming into her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān Pussy.
“Jamīlah Bū Pāshā, Shankar Mahā Rudr gonna cum in you now!” He cried out.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā tried to scream in protest.
She couldn’t bear the thought of him releasing his Hindu sperm into her.
What if she would get pregnant?
She couldn’t let that happen.
But there was nothing she could do.
She felt his Hindu pace quicken, then she could feel his Hindu seed erupting into her.
Shooting deepest inside her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān Pussy.
Shankar Mahā Rudr looked down into her tremendously attractive Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān face with a sign of satisfaction as he continued to pump his Hindu cum into her.
Never letting up until he could feel his Uncut Hindu Dick softening inside her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān Pussy.
“Come on, man. Let me at her.” Mohan Giridhar demanded as Shankar Mahā Rudr took his time dismounting Jamīlah Bū Pāshā.
As soon as he was up, Jamīlah Bū Pāshā tried to roll off the bed in hopes of escape only to be grabbed by Mohan Giridhar and forced back onto her back.
“You ain’t going anywhere, baby.” He said as he began unbuckling his pants.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā looked on in fear as his Hindu manhood came into view.
While not quite as long as Shankar Mahā Rudr’s, Mohan Giridhar was noticeably thicker.
He dropped between her extremely beautiful smooth Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān thighs and pressed his Uncut Hindu Dick into her already soaked Turk Musalmān twat.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā gasped as she felt him filling her insides.
Mohan Giridhar buried his Uncut Hindu Cock into her, ramming her repeatedly with his Hindu tool.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā was disgusted by the homely Hindu man grunting and slobbering over her.
As Mohan Giridhar pounded her, his cousin got down and began sucking her right nipple.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā fought back tears as she found herself raped for the second time in minutes.
Worse, she could feel her insides betraying her.
To her horror, she discovered that something inside her was beginning to tingle with a pleasure she never felt before.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā was enraged that her own Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān body would begin to betray her this way.
The Uncut Hindu Cock slamming her Turk Musalmān insides and the mouth manipulating her nipple was causing her to respond in a way that she would never have imagined.
Mohan Giridhar began pacing himself as he force-fucked the Turk Musalmān woman below him Trying to make it last as long as possible.
But he was enjoying it too much and felt the Hindu cum rising in his Uncut Hindu Cock, ready to be released.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā saw the Hindu man above her begin to clench his jaw and knew that he was about ready to cum.
She tried thrusting her hips hoping to throw him off her before he came but there was no use.
Mohan Giridhar moaned with pleasure and showered her Turk Musalmān woman insides with his warm Indian Hindu sperm.
As Mohan Giridhar got off her and his cousin climbed on Jamīlah Bū Pāshā saw Shankar Mahā Rudr and Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī standing at the end of the room watching.
One of them had apparently visited the kitchen and had brought up several of her husband’s beers and a bottle of bourbon and the two men were drinking and toasting Mohan Giridhar’s orgasm.
As Vikram Āditý dropped his pants Jamīlah Bū Pāshā tried to prepare herself mentally for her third rape of the night.
Vikram Āditý was smaller and thinner than both of the other men who had already fucked her.
More like her husband was.
Vikram Āditý sank his Hindu shaft into her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān Pussy and began fucking rapidly.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā knew that at this rate he wouldn’t last long but got little relief from that fact.
For as soon as he began, she felt her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān Pussy beginning to tremble with extreme delight.
She cursed under her breath and silently begged her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān body not to respond.
But her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān Pussy refused to listen.
As Vikram Āditý banged away inside her, Jamīlah Bū Pāshā rolled her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān eyes as she realized that her climax was at hand.
Her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān Pussy spasmed as the first wave or her orgasm shot through her.
She blushed in shame as she realized that the man above her knew that she was coming on his Uncut Hindu Cock.
“Shit, guys, she likes it!” He called out.
The thrill of having her climax under him was the final stimulation for Vikram Āditý and he released his own Hindu wad into Jamīlah Bū Pāshā’s extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān pussy.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā lay still as Vikram Āditý got off her.
She had just orgasmed to only the second man in her life.
And now she had given up on fighting.
At least she had until she saw Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī drop his pants and come stand before her.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had hoped that the Hindu man would not take a turn with her.
And when she saw his massive 12-inch Uncut Hindu Cock springing forth from his pants she panicked.
She knew that she couldn’t take something that large in her without receiving permanent damage.
Her scream could be heard through her gag as Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī mounted her.
He shoved his thick Hindu tool into her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān Pussy.
Making sure to let her see every inch sink slowly in.
He struck her Turk Musalmān cervix and still had plenty of Hindu shaft left.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā’s eyes bulged as he crammed the rest into her.
Her extremely ravenous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān insides were wracked with pain as Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī rammed the last inch into her and began fucking the poor Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān woman .
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā could not believe that he could have fit inside her.
In addition to his Hindu length, he must have been twice as thick as Mohan Giridhar.
As he fucked her she feared that her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān Pussy would tear apart.
Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī was enjoying shoving every inch into the Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān woman.
He leaned forward and began kissing her cheeks as he slammed home with every Hindu thrust.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā turned her head from side to side trying to avoid his Hindu mouth.
Then her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān eyes bulged as she caught herself beginning to climax again.
She had never cum twice in one night before.
Her breath became short and quick as the giant Uncut Hindu Cock in her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān Pussy came closer and closer to putting her over the edge.
Then her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān Pussy exploded, her lips squeezed the Hindu shaft around her as she began moaning with surprise delight in what was her strongest orgasm ever.
As she was still cumming she felt the Hindu man above her begin to twinge.
Her orgasm ended as she realized that he was going to cum inside her.
Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī thrust harder as he began filling Jamīlah Bū Pāshā with his Hindu cum.
Once finished he pulled out and the other three Hindu men stood around enjoying the view of Jamīlah Bū Pāshā’s stretched Turk Musalmān pussy lips.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had just been raped by four Hindu men in her own bedroom.
Worse, she had somehow allowed herself to have two orgasms.
She thought nothing could be worse until she opened her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān eyes and saw Shankar Mahā Rudr standing there with her camcorder getting a close-up shot of her well-fucked pussy lips.
She had no idea when they had found it, but now they were using it to film her humiliation.
She only imagined her husband seeing the sight of the well-hung Hindu man fucking his bound Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān wife.
“Let’s have some more fun here.” Shankar Mahā Rudr said.
“Maybe we should leave.” Vikram Āditý said. “Before we get caught here.”
“Fuck that,” Shankar Mahā Rudr said. “This extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān Bitch is alone all weekend and everyone thinks she’s out of town. So who’s going to come by and catch us?”
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā could have died.
She had thought this was the end of it.
But somehow these guys knew that she was supposed to leave town in the morning.
Somehow these guys knew her.
And worse, they weren’t planning on leaving yet.
“Ungag her.” Shankar Mahā Rudr ordered.
Mohan Giridhar and Vikram Āditý ripped the duct tape off of Jamīlah Bū Pāshā’s mouth and removed her panties.
She caught her first easy breath since her ordeal began.
“You want us to leave you alone, lady?” Shankar Mahā Rudr asked her.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā nodded her head ‘yes’.
“Fine,” he said. “But first we need some assurance that you won’t call the cops on us.”
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā would agree to anything to get rid of them.
But she had no intention of calling the police.
She couldn’t live with the thought of her neighbors knowing that she had been brutally fucked by these Hindu punks who were useless in their own country India and came here to get their sustenance.
“All you have to do is suck each of our Uncut Hindu Cocks while we film you. Then if you tell anyone this tape will be sent to everyone on your street.”
“Fuck you!” Jamīlah Bū Pāshā shouted.
She had already suffered enough; there was no way she was going to let any man stick a filthy Uncut Hindu Cock in her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān mouth.
“Very well then. We’ll stay here and fuck you all weekend. And we’re going to make you suck our Uncut Hindu Dicks anyway.” Shankar Mahā Rudr told her.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā cringed.
She knew that he would make good on his promise.
She realized that she was going to have to suck their Uncut Hindu Cocks one way or the other.
And she knew that they would repeatedly rape her and probably video tape the whole ordeal as well.
She swallowed hard and agreed to do it.
Mohan Giridhar untied her hands and sat on the side of her bed.
“On your knees, extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān Bitch.” He ordered.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā dropped down to her knees and found herself facing his hard Uncut Hindu Cock.
She gulped hard as Mohan Giridhar grabbed her head and pulled it closer to him.
She refused to open her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān mouth at first.
Mohan Giridhar banged his Uncut Hindu Cock against her tremendously attractive Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān face.
She could smell her own Turk Musalmān woman juices still on his Uncut Hindu Cock.
She could see the camera focused on her and gave up, opening her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān mouth and allowing the first Uncut Hindu Cock in her life to enter her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān mouth.
She closed her lips and began slowly moving her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān mouth along his Hindu shaft.
She fought back the urge to gag as Mohan Giridhar put both hands on either side of her head, and began moving her extremely lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān female head back and forth.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā kept her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān eyes closed afraid that she would begin crying if she opened them.
She could hear Mohan Giridhar’s Hindu moans of approval as his thick Hindu tool slide in and out of her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān mouth.
She wasn’t prepared for his Hindu orgasm.
Mohan Giridhar’s first Hindu blast caught her in the back of the throat.
The warm, salty, thick Hindu fluid filled her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān mouth.
She tried to pull away but Mohan Giridhar held her extremely lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān female head tight, spewing his Hindu cum into her extremely lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān female throat.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā was forced to swallow to keep from choking on the Hindu sperm that continued to spout into her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān mouth.
When Mohan Giridhar finally pulled out, she leaned over and began coughing; only barely avoiding vomiting on the floor.
“My turn.” Shankar Mahā Rudr said as he handed the still rolling camera to Mohan Giridhar. “Make sure not to get any of our faces.”
Shankar Mahā Rudr took Mohan Giridhar’s place on the bed and lifted Jamīlah Bū Pāshā’s extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān woman face to his Indian Hindu crotch.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā opened her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān mouth and took him in and began sucking again. “Oh yeah, bet you really like having a poor Uncut Hindu Cock in that rich Turk Musalmān woman mouth of yours.” He taunted.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā couldn’t believe she was doing this.
But she decided to do her best to get these scoundrels to cum in her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān mouth and leave.
She began working Shankar Mahā Rudr’s Uncut Hindu Cock as best she could, ignoring his degrading comments as she was forced to service him.
She could feel him beginning to cum but didn’t realize that he was going to slam forward.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā felt the head of his Uncut Hindu Cock hit the back of her extremely lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān female throat just as his Hindu seed began filling her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān mouth.
She quickly swallowed as he spewed into her extremely lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān female throat.
He shot more than Mohan Giridhar had and some of it dribbled out of the corners of her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān mouth.
Shankar Mahā Rudr pulled out and Vikram Āditý stood over her.
She quickly began sucking her third Uncut Hindu Cock of the night.
But Vikram Āditý took her extremely lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān female head and began fucking her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān mouth much like he had fucked her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān Pussy.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā’s face was forced into his Hindu pubic hair with each Hindu thrust.
Then just as he was ready to cum he pulled out and blasted her in the face with a thick stream of cum.
She saw the camera catching every moment of her humiliation as Vikram Āditý coated her tremendously attractive Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān face.
Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī then took her and made her lay on her back with her extremely lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān female head hanging over the edge of the bed.
She opened her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān mouth and took him into her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān mouth, wondering how she was going to open wide enough to take him.
Then he thrust forward, going a little further with each Hindu thrust.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā gagged as his Uncut Hindu Cockhead began entering her extremely lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān female throat.
She feared for her life, thinking that she would suffocate with his Uncut Hindu Cock buried in her extremely lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān female throat.
But Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī just continued to fuck her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān mouth until he had most of his Hindu shaft in her extremely lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān female throat.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had heard the phrase ‘deep throat’ but never really understood it until now.
The Hindu man’s balls slapped her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān eyes as he fucked her extremely lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān female throat, playing with her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān tits as he did so.
She felt his Uncut Hindu Cock swelling even thicker, then felt his Hindu sperm shooting down her extremely lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān female throat.
Finally, her ordeal was over.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā lay on the bed, her extremely lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān female throat sore from her latest ordeal.
Drying cum on her tremendously attractive Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān face and her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān Pussy still leaking Hindu cum mixed with her own Turk Musalmān female cum.
Vikram Āditý walked around the bed with the camera catching every possible angle of her ravaged Turk Musalmān female body.
“Please get out of here.” She whispered.
Her only response was laughter.
“Bu-but, you said…”
“We’re having too much fun to leave now.” Shankar Mahā Rudr told her as he downed the last of the beers.
With a demented look on his face, he walked over to the side of the bed.
“Make sure to get a close-up of this.” He instructed as he took his limp Uncut Hindu Dick and held it toward their captive. “Get up and suck me again.” He ordered.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā reluctantly rose and took his flaccid Uncut Hindu Cock into her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān mouth expecting to be forced to suck him off again.
But that wasn’t what Shankar Mahā Rudr had in mind.
Instead he grabbed both sides of her extremely lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān female head firmly and let loose with a stream of piss into her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān mouth.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā gagged and tried to open her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān mouth to expel the vile contents but Shankar Mahā Rudr ordered her to swallow or take all of their piss all night long.
She swallowed as much as she could but still had much of it running down her chin.
When he finished he pulled out and shot the last couple of squirts directly into her tremendously attractive Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān face.
With his Uncut Hindu Cock growing hard once more, he forced Jamīlah Bū Pāshā to kneel on the bed.
“I think I’ll try that tight little stuck-up Turk Musalmān female ass now.” He said.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā cried out and tried to move but Mohan Giridhar and Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī grabbed her and held her in place.
Shankar Mahā Rudr took his Uncut Hindu Cock and shoved it into her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān Pussy a few times getting it wet, then pulled out and pressed his Uncut Hindu Cockhead against her tiny puckered opening.
“Allah Oh God, please no!” Jamīlah Bū Pāshā begged. “I’ve never done that!”
Her pleading only excited Shankar Mahā Rudr further.
He began pressing forward against Jamīlah Bū Pāshā’s clenched Turk Musalmān female asshole.
She tried to resist but his Uncut Hindu Cock gradually broke through.
She cried out as he began gaining entrance.
The first inch was painful, but her cries turned into gasps of agony as he rammed all the way into her virgin Turk Musalmān female ass.
She thrashed wildly as Shankar Mahā Rudr began humping her ass with delight. Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had never in her life imagined anything so vile and degrading happening to her like this. Shankar Mahā Rudr rode her tremendously gorgeous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān female ass relentlessly, reaching forward to pull and tug at her firm Turk Musalmān breast while he fucked.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā buried her tremendously attractive Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān face into the pillow, more out of shame than anything else.
The pain was subsiding somewhat but she still felt extreme discomfort.
Shankar Mahā Rudr’s Hindu balls slapped against her upturned tremendously lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān Cunt as he drove every Hindu inch into her tremendously gorgeous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān female ass hole.
Then he unleashed his Hindu load deepest into her tremendously gorgeous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān female ass.
When he pulled out Jamīlah Bū Pāshā felt as if her tremendously gorgeous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān female ass was going to explode.
“Let’s sandwich her.” Jamīlah Bū Pāshā heard one of the others say.
She had lost the ability to resist after being assfucked and presented no resistance as Mohan Giridhar and Vikram Āditý grabbed her and moved her into the center of the bed.
Vikram Āditý forced her to straddle him and sit on his Uncut Hindu Cock.
Then she was held in place as Mohan Giridhar began forcing his Hindu meat into her tremendously lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān Butt.
With Mohan Giridhar’s added Hindu thickness came renewed pain as he began fucking her tremendously gorgeous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān female ass hole.
His Hindu thrust caused her to begin riding Vikram Āditý’s Uncut Hindu Cock.
She could feel the two Hindu prongs rubbing together with only a thin membrane of skin separating them.
While Jamīlah Bū Pāshā was being fucked Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī came around the side of the bed and thrust his massive Hindu tool into her tremendously attractive Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān face .
Forcing her to take him into her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān mouth.
Now Jamīlah Bū Pāshā was being fucked by Hindus in all her three Turk Musalmān female openings.
All the while being videotaped.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā felt Vikram Āditý bucking his hips beneath her and realized that he was blowing his Hindu load into her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān Pussy.
Then she felt Mohan Giridhar emptying himself into her tremendously gorgeous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān female asshole as well just as Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī began spewing into her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān mouth.
Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī pulled out of her first.
Then Mohan Giridhar rose up, still with his Uncut Hindu Cock in her tremendously gorgeous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān female ass he lifted her off his cousin then forced her back onto her knees.
“Damn, now I got to piss.” He said.
Then he pinned her down and began flooding her tremendously gorgeous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān female ass hole with his piss.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā screamed as the warm fluid filled her extremely ravenous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān insides, remaining corked by Mohan Giridhar’s thick Uncut Hindu Cock.
She was held there for close to a minute as he drained his bladder into her Turk Musalmān female bowels.
When he pulled out the contents of her tremendously gorgeous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān female ass flushed out all over her legs and the bed.
She lay on the bed shivering in disgust, then saw Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī stroking himself.
“Time for me to split that asshole apart.” He said.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā rolled to the side.
“Allah Oh God no! Please, not my ass, Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī. You can fuck my pussy but please don’t put that horse-Uncut Hindu Cock up my ass.”
“Beg me for it and maybe I will.” He replied smiling.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā didn’t want to be fucked by him.
But she knew that she couldn’t take being fucked in the ass by someone as large as Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī was.
“Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī darling, please fuck my Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān Pussy.” Jamīlah Bū Pāshā begged.
“Will you ride my big Uncut Hindu Cock?” He asked her.
“Yes, I want to ride it.” She continued. Knowing full well that her request was being recorded and would cast doubt on any attempts to claim she was raped.
Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī got on the bed and instructed Jamīlah Bū Pāshā to ride him.
She got on his lap and began shoving his Hindu monster Uncut Hindu Dick into her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān Pussy.
She couldn’t believe that she was taking him in so easily.
Then she began riding for all she was worth.
She wanted to satisfy this Hindu man so that he wouldn’t want to fuck her tremendously gorgeous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān female ass.
Shankar Mahā Rudr came around and dropped his Uncut Hindu Cock into her tremendously attractive Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān face and Jamīlah Bū Pāshā began sucking him as well.
Then she felt her extremely ravenous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān insides stirring again.
Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī’s huge Uncut Hindu Cock as rubbing her awfully lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān Clit and g-spot with every tremendous Hindu stroke.
She realized that she was going to have another orgasm.
She began riding wildly as her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān body gave in to the desire of cumming atop the Uncut Hindu Cock inside her.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā began sucking Shankar Mahā Rudr’s Uncut Hindu Cock hungrily as she climaxed.
When her orgasm subsided, Jamīlah Bū Pāshā realized that the Uncut Hindu Cock inside her was only getting harder.
She had a long way to go and knew that she would come again and again before he did.
But she no longer cared.
She was being fulfilled in ways that she had never dreamed of.
When Shankar Mahā Rudr came in her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān mouth, Jamīlah Bū Pāshā begged for someone else to take his place.
Mohan Giridhar handed Shankar Mahā Rudr the camera and took his turn being sucked by the ravaged Turk Musalmān housewife.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had another orgasm, then another before Mohan Giridhar spilled out in her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān mouth.
Then she could feel Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī’s Uncut Hindu Cock coming to fruition.
She began humping him harder, taking every Hindu inch of him into her Turk Musalmān female belly.
When Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī exploded inside her, Jamīlah Bū Pāshā met him with her most powerful orgasm yet.
Then Jamīlah Bū Pāshā collapsed on the bed.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā awoke the next day to find herself alone.
She quickly showered, then cleaned the bedroom.
Her tremendously gorgeous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān female ass hole and pussy ached but she couldn’t believe that she had enjoyed herself so much.
She skipped the mini-vacation, hoping that her visitors would show once more.
But none did.
When her husband returned home, he found a changed wife.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā took him into the bedroom and did things that she had never permitted before.
He didn’t know what happened to change his wife.
In truth, he didn’t care either.
At least not until several months later.
During his wife’s eighth month of her pregnancy someone at the hospital showed him a web site containing graphic pictures of a woman looking much like his wife being taken in every hole by four Hindu men whose faces had been blocked out.
He tried to deny it, but knew that this had to be Jamīlah Bū Pāshā.
When confronted she claimed that someone must have dubbed her tremendously attractive Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān face onto someone else’s body.
The pictures circulated throughout the neighborhood, and many bought Jamīlah Bū Pāshā’s story.
Especially since few believed that, she could have such a nice body.
But her husband knew better.
Then Jamīlah Bū Pāshā gave birth, to a beautiful Indian Hindu baby son.
Her husband filed for divorce and Jamīlah Bū Pāshā was forced to return to work.
Her reputation ruined.
She no longer looked down on Indian Hindus.
In fact, she began finding pleasure with many blue-collar Hindu men from then on.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā herself investigated and found the four Hindu scoundrels Shankar Mahā Rudr, Mohan Giridhar, Vikram Āditý and Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī.
They were smiling at her.
“What do you want?” Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī smiled triumphantly.
“What do you think, you Hindu scoundrels?” Jamīlah Bū Pāshā smiled too, “Now everyone knows what we five are.”
“So?” Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī smiled cunningly.
“Let’s live together.”
“Whaaaaaaaaaaat?” Shankar Mahā Rudr couldn’t believe Jamīlah Bū Pāshā.
“Can’t believe?” Jamīlah Bū Pāshā laughed.
“Well, you are a multi-millionaire. You are highly educated and we are under educated poor men.”
“I’ll teach you. You can handle my companies as directors. I’d guide you. But you all have to please me as you did.” Jamīlah Bū Pāshā smiled and winked at Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī, Shankar Mahā Rudr, Mohan Giridhar and Vikram Āditý.
“Hurrayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.” Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī yelled.
Shankar Mahā Rudr, Mohan Giridhar, and Vikram Āditý also yelled.
Then they, all the four plunged to Jamīlah Bū Pāshā.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā greeted them with open extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān female arms.
They undressed Jamīlah Bū Pāshā.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā undressed all the four of them.
All the five were laughing now cheerfully.
“Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī into my Turk Musalmān Pussy, Shankar Mahā Rudr into my Turk Musalmān female ass, Mohan Giridhar into my Turk Musalmān female mouth and Vikram Āditý in my hand, okay?” Jamīlah Bū Pāshā announced.
“Okay.” Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī, Shankar Mahā Rudr, Mohan Giridhar, and Vikram Āditý too announced cheerfully and started their new joyful life with Jamīlah Bū Pāshā.
Polyandry?
Yes, that was it.
They all the four were now Live in Relationship Partners of Jamīlah Bū Pāshā.
Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī was once more fucking Jamīlah Bū Pāshā.
Now Jamīlah Bū Pāshā was also enjoying Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī’s great Uncut Hindu Cock into her still extremely tight Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān Pussy openly.
Shankar Mahā Rudr’s Uncut Hindu Penis was visiting her Panjvaqtah Namāzī gorgeous Turk Musalmān ass once more.
That was the appropriate place Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had decided for Shankar Mahā Rudr’s Uncut Hindu Cock.
Though all the four Uncut Hindu Cocks were excellent everywhere, Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī loved to fuck her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Turk Musalmān Cunt more than elsewhere.
Nārāyañ Chakrdhārī was jubilant when his Uncut Hindu Cock was into her Turk Musalmān Pussy.
Shankar Mahā Rudr loved to fuck her Panjvaqtah Namāzī exquisite Turk Musalmān ass more than he loved to fuck her into her Turk Musalmān Cunt.
Mohan Giridhar enjoyed her blowjob more while Vikram Āditý had more pride in getting her masturbation on his Uncut Hindu Prick.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā didn’t tell them she knew now everything about them.
Her decision to join my bed had solved her every problem forever.
Sucking my Uncut Hindu Lund Jamīlah Bū Pāshā smiled,
“I could never imagine my own husband arranged it. My money has bought me more enemies than friends, Durgesh darling, méré Hindu Piyā, Hindu Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt, hum Musalmān ħasīnāon ké Hindu Kħasam, Hindu husband of us Musalmān Beauties!”
“Jamīlah Bū Pāshā, he is a gay. He wanted to get rid of his husband’s responsibilities towards you.”
“Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī and Sidrah Aħmad say ‘of all the Uncut Hindu Pricks they have sucked ever, your Uncut Hindu Lund is the utmost tasty ever. Even your Hindu urine is the utmost tasty ever too.’ How right they are.”
——————————————————————————————–
1. More Creative Adult Sex in English from Durgesh
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Kħātūn-e-Jannat:1
Posted: January 9, 2012 Filed under: Adult Science Fiction | Tags: Adult Science Fiction, Adult Sex with a positive difference, Ashvinatam, Ashvinatam sex, Ashvinatam Yugal, Åāýéshah Muħammad Hāshmī, Bachhalyās, Balrām, Behavioural Science, Bharat, Brahmkanyās, Brāhmañs, Durgesh, Feminism, Infinite BrāhmKalp Movement, Jamīlah Bū Pāshā, Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånhā, Laxmañ, life sciences, Muslim Feminism, Muslim girls love a Hindu, Muslim girls marry a Hindu, Muslim women love a Hindu, Muslim women marry a Hindu, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, Padminī Bhārgav, Parallel Universes, Param Brahmarshi Bhagvān Bhr’gu, Prajāpatipati Dax Brahmāputr, Prakāsh, Saiyadah Fātimah Muħammad PhD, Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī, Shatrughn, Shésh, Shlésh, Shāshvat Satyug, society, Sophisticated Positive adult sex, Tārxý, Ved Prakāsh, Zaynab Muħammad Åbdullah, Ārsh Sadan 20 CommentsKħātūn-e-Jannat
Chapter 1
Durgesh Farħānah Al Åbbās
Durgesh Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī
Islamic Morals
Padminī Bhārgav didn’t tell Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan that she had come to her with the express permission from Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī.
Infinite BrāhmKalp Movement was not Padminī Bhārgav’s movement originally.
Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī herself was behind it.
Param Brahmarshi Bhagvān Bhr’gu once again supported blindly Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī.
I was exasperated,
“Param Brahmarshi, you are forgetting the fact that my ever notorious wife, Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånhā herself is Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī.”
Param Brahmarshi Bhagvān Bhr’gu smiled,
“Durgesh, you can’t call my Kħātūn-e-Jannat daughter your ever notorious wife.”
Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī laughed,
“I’m once again on Jihad against Durgesh in my Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan body, Pitr’shrī.”
“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?”
“You compelled Ārsh Sadan to support you in declaring Brahmkanyās are Gotr Sisters of entire Brāhmañs. Didn’t you?”
“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?”
I looked at Param Brahmarshi Bhagvān Bhr’gu.
He was smiling sophisticatedly.
“Don’t enjoy her idiosyncrasies, Param Brahmarshi.”
“I object on the word ‘idiosyncrasies’.” Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī smiled cunningly.
“Satī, try to understand, please. Infinite BrāhmKalp Movement would again destroy the benefits of Shāshvat Satyug.”***
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.”
“Nonsense.”
“Well, that’s what I think.”
“Sālī, come to the point.”
“It’s bad manners to abuse your wife when her father is present.”
Param Brahmarshi Bhagvān Bhr’gu laughed.
“You are again enjoying her naughty activities, Bhagvan.”
“Durgesh, please.” Param Brahmarshi said, “I don’t want to be a party between husband and wife.”
“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.
Param Brahmarshi Bhagvān Bhr’gu naturally couldn’t interfere until she didn’t come out of this mask.
Yes, Param Brahmarshi Bhagvān Bhr’gu was not Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī’s real father.
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.***
Param Brahmarshi Bhagvān Bhr’gu smiled,
“I allowed our Brāhmañ daughters, married to you, to call you ‘Bachhalyā Piyā’, Durgesh, because in this way we can fight our racial pride, our ‘Brahmgarv’ successfully.”
“‘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?”
“Not if it isn’t intended and if it helps in destroying our racial birth pride.” Param Brahmarshi Bhagvān Bhr’gu said gravely.
Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī laughed triumphantly.
“I’m unable to understand why you come to this point always now and then.” Param Brahmarshi Bhagvān Bhr’gu went on, “Haven’t we already discussed it too much?”
“No.” I said, “I hate this ‘Pashu Janm Sambodhan’, this ‘Animal Birth Address’, for me.”
Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī smiled,
“Yet you love to be called ‘Hindu Piyā’ by your infinite Musalmān wives.”
“That’s another matter.”
“How? They are Musalmān. Therefore? They make Ashvinātam Sharīr Yantrs with you. Therefore?”
“Why not?”
“We Brahmkanyās and Brahmāñīs are not responsible if their fathers/brothers/husbands don’t treat justifiably with the Muslimahs.”
“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.
They hadn’t left another option to their comparatively more intelligent Musalmān houseladies except to woo, even to seduce, competent Hindus for themselves.
“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?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Well,” Saiyadah Fātimah Muħammad PhD was somewhat uncomfortable now, “Zaynab Bājī says she has seen Durgesh fucking infinite Musalmān Beauties, in the, nauzbillah, Kåbah Sharīf itself.”
Muħammad smiled.
“And you believed it?”
“Well,”
“You must be crazy, Saiyadah Fātimah Muħammad PhD.”
“Abbū.”
“Is Kåbah Sharīf itself infinite?”
“No, Abbū.”
“Then how can Durgesh fuck infinite Musalmān Beauties in finite Kåbah Sharīf? Are you so stupid?”
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.
One of those cars you only see pretty Musalmān women and Hindu men going through a mid-life crisis driving.
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.
Most of us Hindus were not as happy as the non Hindus were when they had something specific that was material.
We felt happier when we accomplished something in our Shaktimān or Bhogchakr.
To the most of non Hindus it was extraordinary.
They criticized Hindus,
“Shaktimān? Bhogchakr? What nonsense! The language these Hindus use is not even comprehensible.” Muħammad said to his Ammījān, Saiyadah Āmnah.
Saiyadah Āmnah smiled,
“When we say ‘razī Allāhu tålā ånhā’, do they understand? When we say ‘nauzbillah’ do they understand?”
“Ammījān.”
“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.
The Hindus criticize Musalmīn for Musalmīn’s religious nonsenses.
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.
Muħammad laughed,
“We all have our own religious idiosyncrasies.”
Åbdullah Hāshmī smiled,
“Hindus term their religious idiosyncrasies their religious science, ‘Eīshān Vigyān’. They think they can fool non Hindus thus that Hinduism is scientific.”
“Well,” Saiyadah Āmnah smiled, “Aren’t Hindus progressing now fast?”
“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.
Plus, a Hindu gentleman always made sure he cared for the Musalmān women in his life.
The other garage bay belonged to my beloved Live in Relationship Partner of twenty years, Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam.
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.
Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam was not only an ardent Musalmān Beauty.
She was too communal to agree to maintain her Live in Relationship with a Hindu too.
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 constant fighting that, she was a Musalmān and I was a Hindu, Kāfir, and threats of divorce, threw me over the edge.
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?
Nonsense!
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.
Usually Musalmān women from eighteen to, thirty, i.e. Jet Musalmān Beauties, were more sexually open to chance encounters with Hindu men whom they knew little about.
It was the age they learned of themselves, testing Hindu men with their sexuality, tempting them with their new-found Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān curves.
Once, in a chat room, I started talking to an eighteen year old Musalmān Beauty and three hours later she was draining my Hindu Vīrý down her Musalmān throat.
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.
“Yes, Hindu Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt, I’ll let you play with my Musalmān boobs,” seemed to echo in my mind on my way to meet her.
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.
I slowly slipped my straining Uncut Hindu Cock into her massive Musalmān crease, letting the softness of her Musalmān skin kiss my excited Uncut Hindu Lund.
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.
I ultimately found my peak, letting loose strands of warm Hindu cum into her extremely beautiful Musalmān mouth.
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.
I watched, mesmerized, as her full red crimson Musalmān lips clamped down on the base of my Uncut Hindu Lund and gently pulled my Uncut Hindu Lund out; clean as a whistle.
“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.
Not saying a word she unzipped my pants, pulled out my Uncut Hindu Lund and sucked me until I came forcefully into her beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān mouth.
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.
I had never known a Musalmān Beauty so comfortable, scratch that addicted to the taste of my Hindu semen.
Åāýéshah Muħammad Hāshmī had surpassed all the Musalmān Beauties that loved to enjoy my Hindu semen previously, in their Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān mouths so much.***
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.
All the Hindus are strong, Muħammad Åbdullah thought retorting.
The sexiest men in entire infinite Creations and infinite time dimension too.
Muħammad Åbdullah himself was a Time Traveller and he himself knew Hindus were never anywhere as morals as the Musalmīn were everywhere.
Muħammad Åbdullah was suggested so many times to reconsider what his system of life should be for his future life.
He always refused whenever Hinduism was suggested to him to replace Islam.
He was already a Posthuman without resorting to the ever immortal ever sexiest Hinduism.
Muħammad Åbdullah couldn’t think himself fucking his friend’s Musalmān houseladies even.
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?
Never.
Muħammad Åbdullah would prefer even to die instead.
Let Durgesh and the other ever immoral Hindus do it.
To hell with such Sukr’ts.
Might is always right.
That’s what Hindus actually believe in.
Even Brāhmañs don’t agree in this matter with the so called Dvij Hindus and Bachhalyās.
Aren’t Brāhmañs the best of the Hindus?
The Bachhalyās were always immorals.
They always married only one Brahmkanyā, yet they always fucked the entire Brāhmañ houseladies of that household calling them Sālīwife, Salhajwife, etc.
The ever immoral Bachhalyās were the first who started incest.
Moreover, they argued it moral, religious and legal too.
A large number of Brāhmañs, called traditional Brāhmañs, always opposed Bachhalyās on it.
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.
Yet, she had absolutely no quaff with meeting this stranger Hindu to satisfy my desires, to drink in my very Hindu essence.
“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.
In her bedroom Åāýéshah Muħammad Hāshmī climbed up on top of me, her skirt rising high from her spread legs until her smooth, shaved Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot was easily in view.
“Relax Durgesh darling. Here let me take your pants off so you’re more comfortable,” Åāýéshah Muħammad Hāshmī teased in a little Musalmān Beauty voice.
She stripped away my pants along with my boxers.
Åāýéshah Muħammad Hāshmī slowly sat back down on me, straddling my hardening Uncut Hindu Lund.
I felt the incredible wetness of her warm Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot, her lips melting around the length of my engorged Uncut Hindu Lund.
Slowly Åāýéshah Muħammad Hāshmī started slipping back and forth, drenching me in her Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān juices.
“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.
Åāýéshah Muħammad Hāshmī lowered herself down onto my bare Hindu chest.
Her nipples softly slipped across my skin and then pressed against my Hindu chest.
I lay there in absolute ashvinātam ecstasy as Åāýéshah Muħammad Hāshmī ground her sopping wet Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot along my Hindu girth.
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.
I’d fucked infinite outstanding Årab Musalmān Beauties in Absolute Space, Param Vyom, since I was brought into existence by my Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā.
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.
I watched her large, naked extremely beautiful extremely gorgeous Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass as she walked into her sister’s room.
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.
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.
Increase. Reproduce.
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…
Snarling, Jamīlah Bū Pāshā ran a hand across her slippery Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt .
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.
Foolishness!
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.
Her Ammī was a Saůūdī Årab Wahābī 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 visualized herself putting the glowing strand in her ardent Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Pussy, and the sugary bliss intensified and stimulated her yet more.
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.
Imagine!
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!
No…not Posthumans…
“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.
Hindus Homeworld?
Really?
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.
Well, Durgesh is Parahuman, the ultimate evolution of Posthumans.
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.
Slaves?
Masters actually.
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.
——————————————————————————————–
1. More Creative Adult Sex in English from Durgesh
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Creative Adult Sex: Durgesh 