Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan must have heard me.
“It’s Al Ůzrah Al Ħabīb on line there,” she said.
I perked up immediately.
“Okay. Thanks.” I stabbed the button for line three. “Hi, sweetheart.”
“Is it a good time?” Al Ůzrah Al Ħabīb said. “I tried calling your cell phone, but you didn’t answer.”
“Sorry,” I said. “I was on another call. An important one.” I frowned at the memory, but then took a deep breath and forced a smile. “What can I do for you?”
“I need help, Durgesh,” she said frankly, and I sat forward.
“Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan,” I bellowed, ignoring the intercom.
“You don’t have to shout,” she smiled when she appeared in the door. “I’m right here.”
“Book me on the next flight to Blacksburg, Virginia,” I said. “And have a rental car waiting at the airport. Also, call U-Haul, or Ryder, or whoever, and rent a truck for a one-way trip.”
“Are you on a white knight errand?” she asked, smiling wryly.
“My little girl needs help.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan leaned against the doorframe. “What happened?”
“Her car died and she doesn’t have a way to get home from Office. The dealership told her it would be two weeks before they’d have the parts. Damned Eurotrash imports!”
She rolled her eyes.
It was one of his frequent rants.
“Anyway,” I continued, “it’s a good time for me to go—”
“To escape, you mean,” she smiled teasing me.
“—and I’m…” I turned impish myself. “Am I that obvious?”
She smiled fondly and shook her head.
“Yeah, I guess I’m taking an impromptu vacation. But I won’t really be out of contact. I’ll have my laptop and my cell phone. Pramod can handle Raytheon, and you can handle everything here.”
“So I’m going to rescue my little girl.”
“She isn’t your little girl.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled, “She is already twenty eight and her Ammī, Al Rashīdah Al Faisal, is forty eight already. Give Rashīdah auntie some time for herself now, please. She left her husband for you when Al Ůzrah Al Ħabīb was actually a little girl. You’re enjoying Rashīdah auntie’s dazzling Musalmān beauty for more than twenty years now. Still you bulldoze her so much that she was complaining.”
“Nonsense,” I smiled winking at Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, “Al Rashīdah Al Faisal is still ravenous when I bulldoze her on the bed. Sālī, you want me to bulldoze only Jet Musalmān Beauties. Below forty only.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan winked at me.
“What’s wrong in that? We need your permanently stanch, ever implausible, sixty-five years old, ultimate accomplished, unique, utmost prominent, Uncut Hindu Lund more into our more ravenous, more needy Musalmān Cunts than those above forty. They have enjoyed their share already too much.”
I smiled cunningly.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled cunningly herself.
She didn’t respond to it, deliberately.
“I’ll make all the arrangements,” she added. “Do you want me to drive you to the airport?”
I considered for a moment, but then shook my head.
I didn’t want to inconvenience her.
Besides, I needed her running things in the office.
“I’ll take a limo,” I said.
“I’ll have the driver meet you at the house.”
With a nod and a smile, I turned back to my computer.
I had a dozen e-mails to send before I left.
I’d also have to tell Al Rashīdah Al Faisal, but she wouldn’t care.
She and Al Kulsoom Al Faisal had a pageant in San Diego.
I vaguely recalled that it was part of the Miss California USA competition, but I didn’t give it a second thought.
Virginia was hot.
Hot and sticky.
I had already worked up a sweat just walking to my rental car.
Five minutes later, with the air conditioner on full blast, I was headed toward Blacksburg and the Virginia Tech campus.
I called Al Ůzrah Al Ħabīb once I was sure of my bearings.
She gave me directions to her dorm, but I remembered the place from when I’d brought her to her Office.
She met me in the lobby and my eyes lit up when I saw her.
Unlike Al Rashīdah Al Faisal and Al Kulsoom Al Faisal—who were salon blondes—Al Ůzrah Al Ħabīb was dark-haired.
And while Al Rashīdah Al Faisal and Al Kulsoom Al Faisal were busty—courtesy of very expensive boob jobs—Al Ůzrah Al Ħabīb was petite and natural.
She was nothing like her mother or sister, and I liked that just fine.
She hugged me tight.
“Thanks for coming. I could’ve driven home by myself, but…”
“Nonsense,” I said. “That’s what I’m for. They say I can’t see any Musalmān damsel in distress ever.”
She laughed, looped her arm through mine and leaned her head on my shoulder.
We picked up the rental truck and returned to the dorm, where they loaded Al Ůzrah Al Ħabīb’s things.
I couldn’t imagine how she’d fit so much stuff in her tiny dorm room.
It filled nearly half of the small truck.
After she checked out of the dorm, we had dinner and spent the night in a hotel.
Her car was still with the dealer, but I arranged for us to send it cross-country when the repairs were complete.
The service manager had balked at my “request,” but the dealership’s general manager understood the unspoken threat in my voice.
The next morning, Al Ůzrah Al Ħabīb and I were on the road by seven o’clock, with sausage biscuits and hot coffee.
I cringed at Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s imagined reproach, but I savored the buttery biscuit and willed her to silence.
“What’re you smirking at?” Al Ůzrah Al Ħabīb asked.
I controlled heating my cheeks.
“Yeah. Just now. You were smirking.”
“I shouldn’t be eating this,” I admitted.
“Because of your cholesterol?”
In the blink of an eye, she snatched the biscuit and began rolling down her window.
“Al Ůzrah Al Ħabīb, no!”
She tossed it out, wrapper and all.
“Al Ůzrah Al Ħabīb, that was my breakfast!”
“We’ll stop for an early lunch,” she said, unperturbed.
I glared at her.
“You know Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s going to ask me how you ate,” she said. “And I won’t lie to her.”
“You could’ve lied this once,” I muttered, half serious, half joking.
“No, I couldn’t’ve. If you won’t take care of yourself, the women in your life will just have to do it for you.”
I wondered whether Al Ůzrah Al Ħabīb had really gone through Parkāyā Pravésh.
Or was it her Abbū, Al Muħammad Al Ħabīb himself who had gone through Parkāyā Pravésh?*
Kħadījah Muħammad, my outqueen, my confidential secretary, my everything, smiled at me.
“Mr. BrahmRaxak Bachhalyā, an executive type is anxiously and impatiently waiting in the outer office.”
“BrahmRaxak Bachhalyā ?” I asked.
Kħadījah Muħammad was only two years younger than me.
Yet she never looked more than thirty four.
“He wants to consult me?”
“Nonsense,” Kħadījah Muħammad retorted, “Nobody is as capable as you are. You have almost infinite Shaktimān, almost infinite experiences, almost omnipotent you are. The Bachhalyās are your sons from Brahm Jagdambās and their descendants only. There’s almost infinite difference in your Shaktimān and capabilities, etcetera.”
“Did he tell you something about what he wants me to consult about?”
“No,” Kħadījah Muħammad kept smiling, “Sorry. That’s a mystery.”
“What’s the mystery?”
“All he has told me is that he is willing to pay any fee reasonable to have you a buffet dinner tonight.”
“Kħadījah , you should have told Mr. BrahmRaxak Bachhalyā that I’m never a paid entertainer. We are busy people. It’s Infinite BrāhmKalp now. We have a busy schedule today already. I see clients only by appointment.”
“Kħadījah Muħammad, I…”
“As if he himself doesn’t have,”
“Mr. BrahmRaxak Bachhalyā has only countless bodies.”
“What?” I was startled.
“He hopes you owe him to help in keeping his present wife, Anjali Chaturvedī to him now.”
I was dumbfounded.*
Kħadījah Muħammad looked at me dubiously.
“I don’t think that BrahmRaxak Bachhalyā wants you as a social lion. He said he would like to have you get a feminine partner of your own choosing, and that he would like to have you observe a certain person and give him your impression of that person.”
“That’s what he said.”
“Yet Kaliyug has its projection still now for 4, 27, 000 years. Don’t forget it. It’s essential.”
“How the hell can I? It’s disturbing us most frequently everywhere.”
Kħadījah Muħammad flashed me a seductive grateful smile, returned to the outer office and a moment later was back with a man somewhere in his late twenties.
He had steady black eyes that flashed out from under his smart eyebrows.
It was an integral characteristic of the Bachhalyās that they were always young, handsome and powerful.
I was their father and the Brahm Jagdambās were their mothers.
Bachhalyās were always number one administrators consequently undisputedly.
The traditional Brāhmañs were the third.
The Muslims were the fourth.
Infinite BrāhmKalp lacked the other societies basically.
I smiled slightly.
“I thought so.”
“A student of character would so classify you.”
“I see. You mean you are a student of character?”
“Any trial lawyer, any politician, likes to think that he is. If he’s at all successful he has to be. Won’t you be seated?”
“Thank you, Your Excellency,”
“Sir,” he said politely, “that is one of the reasons I came to you despite my past experiences of you, are that you would again throw me to the wolves if there comes any beautiful lady that deserves protection more than I do.”
“I see. What’s the reason?”
“That’s right. I suffered from a severe heart attack and couldn’t keep my life then.”
I eyed him sympathetically.
“My family rejected me to keep me as her Sun. She needed a better Sun, you.”
“I was a damnfool then, Your Excellency,”
“Call me ‘Durgesh’. I prefer to be called thus more. If you don’t have any adverse prejudice against it, I mean.” I smiled.
“Even if the husband doesn’t care to fulfill his duties towards her?”
“Well, a family needs sacrifice if we want to keep it.”
“Sacrifice from a wife always?”
“And since Arundhatī Joshī didn’t divorce you, she ‘cheated’ you instead, you let a heart attack dominate you. What a manly step! Arundhatī Joshī was the only woman for you in the entire Multiverse? Why couldn’t you yourself divorce Arundhatī Joshī , if you felt she cheated you? Vinod Sharmā, a woman appreciates a strong man, not a man as weak as you were when you were Vinod Sharmā.”
“I accepted that I learned my lesson in the hard way, Sir. I thought you were my friend and…”
“Well, you said I should let her suck my penis, to have anal sex with her.”
“And you couldn’t do it?”
“I understand, now.”
“It’s your reincarnation, Punarjanm?”
“Sure. Who else can know more about the Bachhalyās than the original Bachhalyā that caused Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī to establish an endless Bachhalyā Empire destroying the traditional Brāhmañ Empire then forever?”
“I hate every tradition if it isn’t scientific anymore, progressive and ‘Janébhyah’.”
“There are some problems when you belong to a Bachhalyā family.”
“That’s right. But I’m telling something else.”
“I am listening to your observation.”
“I understand what you want to say.” I smiled, “You have come here from a traditional Brāhmañ family. It isn’t easy for you to plan something clandestine for the utmost brilliant Vishishŧ Brahms of your family. You want my help? Okay. Tell me what your actual problem is now.”
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
I stood in my makeshift shower located outside my bedroom cleaning off the funk and sex smell from the night before.
The shower had a drain and of course the plumbing but as for walls it had a jimmy rigged curtain system that barely kept the water off the basement floor.
I didn’t hear her come down the stairs, or approach the shower but I sure as hell felt the cold ass breeze when the curtain opened and she slipped her extremely beautiful naked female Musalmān body behind mine.
She pressed her tits against my back as her hands moved around to grip my quickly hardening Hindu flesh.
“Aren’t you worn out from last night?” I asked as she began to stroke my Uncut Hindu Shaft.
Her reply was to spin me around and kiss me fiercely.
Soon her ardent communal Musalmān tongue was invading my Hindu mouth and my hands were roaming over her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān body, cupping her tits and then over her extremely beautiful, ever smart, Panjvaqtah Namāzī, big, heavy, perfectly round, firm, Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass cheeks.
The nimble little minx lifted one of her legs over my shoulder allowing me a proper angle to slide my Uncut Hindu Lund into her drenched Panjvaqtah Namāzī ever tight Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot which swallowed every last inch.
I thrust into her slowly concerned I would knock her anchoring leg out from underneath her.
Al Fātimah Al Zohrah Al Muħammad was moaning into my mouth as I drove into her as deepest and fast as I could.
It seemed like no time that her Panjvaqtah Namāzī ever tight Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot was gripping me like a fucking vice as she came for the first time in the shower.
Now she dropped her foot and pulled back and spun to face away from me before bending over and grabbing her ankles giving me easy access to either her Panjvaqtah Namāzī ever tight Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot or gorgeous ardent Musalmān ass.
I rammed my Uncut Hindu Lund back into her Panjvaqtah Namāzī ever tight Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot, concerned her extremely beautiful, ever smart, Panjvaqtah Namāzī, big, heavy, perfectly round, firm, Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass might not be up to it after the pounding it had gotten the night before.
The wet slapping sound was louder than I wanted since her Ammī, Al Safiyah Al Muħammad, could be just upstairs fixing lunch.
I slowed down the pace but picked up the force with which I rammed my Uncut Hindu Lund into her.
I could hear her soft moans, as she also was trying to keep quiet.
I could feel her Panjvaqtah Namāzī ever tight Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot begin to spasm again as she squirmed beneath me, as I took my pleasure from her.
Once recovered she moved enough so that she could pull me out of her Panjvaqtah Namāzī ever tight Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot and guide the head of my Uncut Hindu Lund to her extremely beautiful, ever smart, Panjvaqtah Namāzī, big, heavy, perfectly round, firm, Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass.
Eīshān, Al Fātimah Al Zohrah Al Muħammad needed my Uncut Hindu Lund almost always not only in her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot, but into her Panjvaqtah Namāzī ever gorgeous Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass too.
She needed me in all her three holes, almost always.
Yes, Kħadījah Muħammad also loved my Uncut Hindu Lund into her ardent Musalmān ass, but not almost always.
She needed it perhaps only once or twice in a month.
So was Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan too.
But not Al Fātimah Al Zohrah Al Muħammad.
She needed it always there too.
It was more than obvious now that Al Fātimah Al Zohrah Al Muħammad was more animal than Kħadījah Muħammad and Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan were.
Well, that was too the reason Al Fātimah Al Zohrah Al Muħammad wanted me to be her man.
She was not incurable.
None was incurable.
Only everyone needed proper care and sexual satisfaction of her own kind.
And I was fully capable to provide everyone what she needed.
That was my Sādhnā, my practice, wasn’t it?
I slid in with some effort but the dirty little Sex goddess had taken a toy and already stretched her extremely beautiful, ever smart, Panjvaqtah Namāzī, big, heavy, perfectly round, firm, Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass out in preparation for this.
I grabbed her ardent, ever smart, big, heavy, perfectly round, Musalmān buttocks and moaned to her that I was going to fill her extremely beautiful, ever smart, Panjvaqtah Namāzī, big, heavy, perfectly round, firm, Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass again.
Al Fātimah Al Zohrah Al Muħammad groaned in response.
I thrust into her extremely beautiful, ever smart, Panjvaqtah Namāzī, big, heavy, perfectly round, firm, Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass hard and fast, not caring even if her Ammī, Al Safiyah Al Muħammad, heard or not at this point.
Damn, it was tighter than last night it seemed.
Al Fātimah Al Zohrah Al Muħammad was rocking back now driving me as deepest as possible with each thrust of our bodies.
I began moaning uncontrollably as my Uncut Hindu Lund swelled and she knew I was seconds away from coming.
She was begging me to fill her extremely beautiful, ever smart, Panjvaqtah Namāzī, big, heavy, perfectly round, firm, Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass with her strong backward motions and I knew I was hooked now.
As I pulled back for the last time and rammed my Uncut Hindu Lund home and felt my orgasm crash over me and the delicious spurting sensation of my Hindu cum painting her ardent Musalmān insides, the shower curtains opened and there stood Al Ruqaiyah Al Muħammad Al Rasūlullāh all smiles… or was it?
I glanced down and noticed for the first time the crescent shaped birthmark on my partner’s back.
And with great surprise, I realized suddenly that I had buried my Uncut Hindu Lund in Al Ruqaiyah Al Muħammad Al Rasūlullāh’s ass, not in Al Fātimah Al Zohrah Al Muħammad’s.*
I moaned as she continued pushing back and the thrill of the Moment made me hard as a rock once more.
“You dirty little minx,”
“NNNNNNN so big…. So deep in My extremely beautiful, ever smart, Panjvaqtah Namāzī, big, heavy, perfectly round, firm, Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass, Hindu fucker of us Musalmān Beauties and extremely beautiful Musalmān houseladies…” Al Ruqaiyah Al Muħammad Al Rasūlullāh moaned, winking at me wickedly.
“It looks as if we are both guilty of torturing you, Durgesh, and we both need to pay the price.” Al Fātimah Al Zohrah Al Muħammad said grinning from ear to ear.
“I see and you agree to the conditions, Al Ruqaiyah Al Muħammad Al Rasūlullāh?” I asked even as she began to fuck me with her extremely beautiful, ever smart, Panjvaqtah Namāzī, big, heavy, perfectly round, firm, Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass.
“Yessss… anything you want… anytime you want… Any hole you want… Hindu lover of us Musalmān Beauties and beautiful Musalmān houseladies,” Al Ruqaiyah Al Muħammad Al Rasūlullāh moaned.
“Well, it appears I am going to violate your ardent Musalmān ass with my Hindu cum again, Al Ruqaiyah Al Muħammad Al Rasūlullāh.” I told Al Ruqaiyah Al Muħammad Al Rasūlullāh as Al Fātimah Al Zohrah Al Muħammad closed the curtains and walked upstairs.
We ran out of hot water long before we ran out of sexual stream but the ice cold water halted our fucking for the time being.
We dried off and dressed and true to the rules both of the twins wore matching outfits with short skirts and dark blouses concealing the lack of bras.
I was wondering how long I could keep up with the two Uncut Hindu Lund hungry communal Musalmān twins, Al Fātimah Al Zohrah Al Muħammad and Al Ruqaiyah Al Muħammad Al Rasūlullāh.
The more I thought about it the better the situation appeared to me.
Monday rolled around.
The twins were off to their Business.
I was left home alone with their Ammī, Al Safiyah Al Muħammad.
She was doing laundry and was in her room looking at something, searching and trying to decide about it.
There came a light knock on my door and Al Safiyah Al Muħammad’s voice.
“Durgesh, may I come in,” she asked politely.
“Sure, Al Safiyah Al Muħammad, come on in,” I told her and sat up.
She walked in and sat down on the edge of my bed.
“I know how difficult it has been for you since you got home. Al Ruqaiyah Al Muħammad Al Rasūlullāh and Al Fātimah Al Zohrah Al Muħammad told me everything.”
I raised my eyebrow and tried to keep my voice calm, while I replied.
“Everything? What did they say exactly?”
“How they have been giving you trouble since you moved back in and what a pain they’ve been for you.” She said so seriously that I almost burst out laughing, remembering each of them impaled on my Uncut Hindu Lund, while it was buried in their ardent Musalmān ass.
“Oh don’t try and be all noble about it. I know what the bitches, girls can be.” Al Safiyah Al Muħammad said angrily.
“We’ve come to an understanding, Al Safiyah Al Muħammad,” I told her honestly.
That seemed to relieve her immensely.
“Thanks Allah,” Al Safiyah Al Muħammad sighed, “they both are too wicked to…”
“Never mind, I can handle both of them.” I smiled.
“Thank you. But watch yourself. However, you know we haven’t really spent any time together. how about we watch a movie?” she said reaching for my remote control.
It took everything not to panic and snatch it away from her, knowing that if she hit play what she would see.
“How about we do it upstairs where we can be more comfortable?” I offered, and she just smiled.
How innocent of her.
“Oh I get it,” Al Safiyah Al Muħammad said impishly, “you been watching some porn to take the edge of, is that it? And you don’t want your squeamish old Al Safiyah Al Muħammad to see it.”
“Exactly,” I said and almost fainted when she hit the power button and then hit play.*
There in all her not so innocence was Al Ruqaiyah Al Muħammad Al Rasūlullāh taking my Uncut Hindu Lund up her extremely beautiful, ever smart, Panjvaqtah Namāzī, big, heavy, perfectly round, firm, Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass as she rode me and the explosion I was waiting for, never happened.
“I knew you guys had patched things up but I never imagined this,” Al Safiyah Al Muħammad said watching intently. “Man, I make some good looking babies. She looks just like me when I was that age… of course, I never did anal until much later on, after college, before I met your Abbū, Al Muħammad Al Rasūlullāh.”
“I don’t know what to say, Al Safiyah Al Muħammad, I am sorry. I could not stop her.” I said gravely, “I have always tried to keep platonic relationship with countless of Musalmān Beauties and Musalmān houseladies, but never succeeded for ever. Sooner or later, everyone of them changed her platonic relationship with me into sexual relationship, either inadvertently or deliberately. There isn’t even a single exception. I don’t know why almost the entire womankind want to fuck me. I am sorry again.”
“It’s alright. It’s alright.” Al Safiyah Al Muħammad tried to smile, “Just don’t let the bitches post this on the internet, otherwise I will kill you myself.”
“Okay,” I muttered still in a state of shock.
I never thought Al Safiyah Al Muħammad would digest even it.
“Any other places I should know about that are wired for sound?”
“No just my bedroom… why,” I asked her.
“I sometimes do my housework in just an apron. It get’s me all wet and eager for when your Abbū, Al Muħammad Al Rasūlullāh, comes home.”
“AL SAFIYAH AL MUĦAMMAD! Eīshān!” I cried out.
“Oh come on, am I that hideous,” she was crying now.
“No, it’s not that. It’s certainly not that. it’s just new thinking of you and Abbū, Al Muħammad Al Rasūlullāh, doing it…”
“Oh so you do think I’m still attractive?”
“If you weren’t my Al Safiyah Al Muħammad, you’d be the hottest MILF in the entire neighborhood.”
“Really?” she was sniffling now her eyes still red from the tears.
“Yeah, I’d have you bent over the kitchen table and taking you from behind like nobody’s business.”
She wiped the last of the tears from her eyes.
“You don’t think my Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass is too big?” Al Safiyah Al Muħammad tried to smile.
I was suddenly all alert.
Hey, what Al Safiyah Al Muħammad herself was after?
“I don’t think so… I’ve never really…”
Suddenly she was on her feet and turning around sticking her bubble butt in my face.
“What do you think?” ‘sniffle’
“Damn, that’s one fine Musalmān ass you got there, Al Safiyah Al Muħammad. Abbū, Al Muħammad Al Rasūlullāh,’s a lucky guy…”
‘boom’ came the waterworks again.
“What did I say this time!?”
She undid her jeans and tugged them down showing me her black t-bar that split her extremely beautiful, ever smart, Panjvaqtah Namāzī, big, heavy, perfectly round, firm, Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass cheeks and the smell of her Panjvaqtah Namāzī ever tight Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot was strong.
She must be soaking wet!
“If you came home from work and saw me on my hands and knees like this,” she said climbing on my bed with her extremely beautiful, ever smart, Panjvaqtah Namāzī, big, heavy, perfectly round, firm, Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass hanging off the side. “Would you fuck me like nobody’s business?”
“If you weren’t my Al Safiyah Al Muħammad I yank that t-bar off and pound that naughty Panjvaqtah Namāzī ever tight Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot of yours, as if I am crazy.”
“MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM, you mean like this…” she said reaching for the waistband of her underwear.
“AL SAFIYAH AL MUĦAMMAD… what are you doing?”
“Nothing,” she said biting her lip and continuing on pulling her t-bar down.
Eīshān, I was not at an angle to see her dripping Panjvaqtah Namāzī ever tight Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot.
Yet, she reached between her legs and I heard the sloppy wet sounds of her fingers sliding inside of her.
Her eyes closed.
I picked up the remote guardedly, switched it to a new file and began recording.
Always prepare for the worst.
Never allow anyone to be in a position to blackmail you.
The recording will be the evidence enough, Al Safiyah Al Muħammad too started it herself.
“Are you recording me Durgesh,” Al Safiyah Al Muħammad asked coyly.
“Yeah, I can’t believe you are on my bed on your hands and knees playing with your Panjvaqtah Namāzī ever tight Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot.”
“Here… taste,” she said offering me her wet Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Choot.
I leaned forward and knew I had crossed the point of no return.
I kissed her Panjvaqtah Namāzī ever extremely beautiful Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot.
Al Safiyah Al Muħammad herself had offered me that.
It was her gross insult not to accept her offer, while she had recently watched my sexual intercourse with her own daughter, Al Ruqaiyah Al Muħammad Al Rasūlullāh.
It was not prudent even.
Moreover, Al Safiyah Al Muħammad was herself too beautiful to resist.
I myself wanted to fuck her now.
Her Panjvaqtah Namāzī ever tight Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot tasted great and I was rock hard in seconds flat.
“I have a bit of a problem Al Safiyah Al Muħammad,” I said pointing to my trapped Uncut Hindu Lund.
“Let me see what I can do about that,” she moaned as she crawled over and unzipped me. “My oh my it’s bigger in person!”
She licked the underside from the base to the tip before sliding it into her beautiful Musalmān mouth.
I was suspecting that Abbū, Al Muħammad Al Rasūlullāh, had not been performing his husbandly duties for a while now and Al Safiyah Al Muħammad had reached her breaking point.
She needed an Uncut Hindu Lund in her and she didn’t care whether it came from me even.
And my Uncut Hindu Lund didn’t care too whose Musalmān mouth was lovingly licking and sucking on it.
I grabbed her by the hair, made a fist and I think she came right then and there.
“You are a dirty little Sex goddess aren’t you Al Safiyah Al Muħammad?” I smiled.
“MMMMMMMMMMHHHMMMMMMMMMMM,” she moaned around my Uncut Hindu Dick.
“You don’t care whose Uncut Hindu Lund is buried inside of you, do you?”
“UHHHHHHH UHHHHHHHHHH, not if it’s yours, you damn fool. You are my second, and the last. No one else. No one else.” she moaned again.
“Good, now suck my Uncut Hindu Lund otherwise it wouldn’t go in that soaking wet Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt of yours,” I told her.
She ratcheted up her attack on my Uncut Hindu Dick and sucked it like a woman dying of thirst.
I grabbed the other side of her Panjvaqtah Namāzī ever lovely Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān head and started fucking her ardent Musalmān throat.
There was Al Safiyah Al Muħammad, the ravenous Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān Sex goddess, with my Uncut Hindu Lund buried in her throat moaning like an extremely insatiable Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān Sex goddess.
“You know I am going to fuck your extremely beautiful ever gorgeous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass, don’t you?” I tested her talking of her ass instead of talking of her Musalmān Cunt.
Most of the Musalmān wives who came to me for optimum sex, never had anal with their Musalmān husband, and did it with me first.
Even it was my Uncut Hindu Lund the first that they sucked ever in their life.
“I am counting on it,” Al Safiyah Al Muħammad managed to reply coming up for air.
Well, Al Safiyah Al Muħammad never protested even the slightest.
The sudden brightness of her extremely beautiful Musalmān eyes reported she loved the concept instead of hating or protesting it.
The daughters took their genes from their Ammī.
“Good, now turn around and smile for the camera you ravenous Sex goddess!”
Al Safiyah Al Muħammad eagerly faced away from me and stuck her extremely beautiful, ever smart, Panjvaqtah Namāzī, big, heavy, perfectly round, firm, Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass high in the air.
I knelt behind her, taking off my jeans.
I slid my Uncut Hindu Lund into her surprisingly tight Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot.
“Damn, Al Safiyah Al Muħammad, your Panjvaqtah Namāzī ever tight Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot feels great!”
“Thank you. Thank you very much. Durgesh darling. UNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN God damn Durgesh, your Uncut Hindu Lund is so much longer and so much thicker than your Abbū, Al Muħammad Al Rasūlullāh’s!”
“It’s an Uncut Hindu Lund, Sālī, not a cut Musalmān nūnī .” I winked at her impishly.
“I think so. I think so.” Al Safiyah Al Muħammad smiled cunningly herself, “You Hindus are very much proud of your Uncut Hindu Lund. Aren’t you?”
“Why shouldn’t we? That’s our Vajr, our Brahmāstr, for completing our mission of life/existence. ‘Imām nārīm sukr’té dadhāt.’ ‘Indro nirjyotishā tamso gā aduxat.’ ‘Sā vishvāyuh sā vishvkarmā sā vishvdhāyāh. Indrasý tvā bhāgagvong soménātanachmi vishño havyagvong rax.’”
“Allah Allah,” Al Safiyah Al Muħammad laughed, “Hindu playboy, you Hindus and your Vedic Sanskr’t. Come on. I am a Musalmān. I don’t understand it.”
“Never mind. You too would learn it gradually. Let’s see how long it takes to make you come,” I said as I grabbed her by the hips and started fucking her in long hard strokes.
The slapping sound of our bodies was loud in my ears and I watched intently as her Panjvaqtah Namāzī ever tight Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot swallowed up my Uncut Hindu Lund over and over again.
“Hell of a view back Al Safiyah Al Muħammad,” I said.
“NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN,” she moaned, her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān body was beginning to shake.
“Are you going to cum already?”
“I… it doesn’t take much to… FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!” she cried out as she came.
I thrust harder into her as she shook and moaned incoherently.
Damn, when was the last time she got fucked?
Then the second and third and fourth orgasms followed one right after the other.
Al Safiyah Al Muħammad was the queen of multiple orgasms and that was hard to stop.
Soon she was a shivering mass and begging me to take a break.
I raised an eyebrow and plowed right ahead fucking her relentlessly.
Nine… ten… twelve… until finally I felt my first orgasm coming on and she thrust back as hard and fast as she could.
I was surprised the old Musalmān Beauty still had any strength left.
My Uncut Hindu Lund swelled deepest inside of her, stretching her and sending her over the edge.
As her Panjvaqtah Namāzī ever tight Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot gripped me, it pushed me over that wonderful edge and I shot a huge Hindu load deepest into Al Safiyah Al Muħammad’s Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān womb.
Even then It was never my time to pant and wheeze.
I was too lustful and too ever young to surrender to it.
“Eīshān, God damn, Al Safiyah Al Muħammad, that was amazing. I should have fucked you earlier, my darling, if only I knew you were also interested in me this way.” I said after I had caught my breath.
“No,” she laughed shoving me onto my back and taking me into her beautiful Musalmān mouth once more. “This is going to be amazing!”
She attacked my Uncut Hindu Lund with a zeal and hunger I had never experienced before.
Al Safiyah Al Muħammad had my Uncut Hindu Lund so far down her throat, her ever quivering extremely beautiful red crimson ardent Musalmān lips were around the base.
Then she was bobbing her Panjvaqtah Namāzī ever lovely Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān head up and down until I was rock fucking hard again.
Then she straddled me and pointed the head of my Uncut Hindu Dick at her extremely beautiful, ever smart, Panjvaqtah Namāzī, big, heavy, perfectly round, firm, Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān asshole and slowly dropped down.
“MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM it’s been so fucking long,” she moaned eyes closed as she savored this special Moment. “OHHHHHH YESSSSSSSSS it’s going in! Look, Durgesh darling, the head of your UNCUT HINDU LUND is in my extremely beautiful, ever smart, Panjvaqtah Namāzī, big, heavy, perfectly round, firm, Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass! MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM now watch the rest slide right… on… IN!!!!”
Her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān body slowly sunk down until she was completely impaled.
She was breathing heavy but her color was good and her desire to get ass fucked was obvious.
“Now this is HOW you fuck a WOMAN’S Musalmān ASS Durgesh darling …” she said as she began to ride me slowly and deeply. “All the way UP until only the tip is left in, then all the way DOWN until it’s buried as deepest as it can go. See that honey?”
“NNNNNNNNNNNNN sure, yeah I do!!” I smiled triumphantly as she fucked me.
Al Safiyah Al Muħammad was a woman in seventh heaven.
She fucked me with her extremely beautiful, ever smart, Panjvaqtah Namāzī, big, heavy, perfectly round, firm, Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass.
It wasn’t very long before I had to take over rolling her onto her back and driving my hips forward slow but steady and once more the orgasms just pounded her one after the other.
I lost count after eighteen I was more concerned about my own imminent climax.
My Uncut Hindu Lund swelled again and stretched her tight little Musalmān ass.
I asked her where she wanted me to cum.
“MMMMMMMMMMMMMM be a dear and spray your Al Safiyah Al Muħammad’s Musalmān ass this time.”
I nodded and thrust into her harder and faster.
When I could fight it no longer I pushed my Uncut Hindu Lund into her extremely beautiful, ever smart, Panjvaqtah Namāzī, big, heavy, perfectly round, firm, Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass.
I shot my second load all over inside her Musalmān ass.
She leaned up to bear the incredible ecstasy before collapsing content.*
We showered together and it wasn’t until afterwards that she began crying again and I held her.
“Oh we shouldn’t have done that it was wrong,” she said into my chest.
“Yep all those orgasms and my Uncut Hindu Lund buried in your Musalmān ass… that was so very wrong,” I told her.
“You’re mocking me,” she said hurt.
“AL SAFIYAH AL MUĦAMMAD… you came into my room, pulled down your jeans and underwear and sucked me off before I fucked you sensesless. Then you rode my Uncut Hindu Lund with your extremely beautiful Musalmān ass. I don’t want to come off as mean or insensitive but don’t be a hypocrite. Did you enjoy what happened between us, yes or no? Don’t tell me you regret it now because I’m a Hindu and you are a Musalmān.”
She looked as if she had been slapped.
I watched as she looked up at me and saw her eyes widen and a slow smile spread across her ever quivering extremely beautiful red crimson ardent Musalmān lips.
“You Hindus are so damn smart?” she said.
“Thank you.” I smiled myself, “I don’t regret anything that has happened since I got home. Not a damn thing. We don’t to ever be intimate ever again, if you don’t want to, but I will not deny how much I enjoyed the pleasure we shared.”
“So how long have you been sleeping with Al Ruqaiyah Al Muħammad Al Rasūlullāh,” she asked.
“It’s Al Ruqaiyah Al Muħammad Al Rasūlullāh and Al Fātimah Al Zohrah Al Muħammad both, and it’s only been a couple of days now.” I freely admitted it all.
What was there to hide from her now?
She had already seen Al Ruqaiyah Al Muħammad Al Rasūlullāh fucking me.
She herself had fucked me to her heart’s content.
“Why did you do it?”
“Believe it or not I didn’t start it, Al Ruqaiyah Al Muħammad Al Rasūlullāh and Al Fātimah Al Zohrah Al Muħammad did. I have the proof. But you can’t say anything.”
“Show me,” she said and was all Al Safiyah Al Muħammad now.
She saw the first few hours of the sexual torment I went through and the footage of my first encounter with the Evil Bitch.
“Damn that was intense!” Al Safiyah Al Muħammad said finally.
I reached between her legs and she was soaked… again.
She moaned as I teased her labia and clit but quickly got to her feet and threw on a shirt.
“I have work to do,” she said with a look of bitter disappointment.
“Go, it ain’t like I am going anywhere.” I told her.
“True.” She moaned, kissed me, kissed my Uncut Hindu Lund, sucked it, and was gone.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, and Muħammad always used to tell each other everything.
Thursday, Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, and Muħammad were on their way to Hindu Lund Musalmān Choot International Club for a few drinks and perhaps some dancing, when the subject of Musalmān Beauties and extremely beautiful Musalmān houseladies having sex with me, came up.
Muħammad was telling Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah that I, like Muħammad, enjoyed fucking my Musalmān friends’ extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān wives very much.
Muħammad told her he’d read several of my such stories.
It seemed my Musalmān friends and I too enjoyed the humiliation aspect of their Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān wives’ antics.
“It’s a rather subtle thing,” Muħammad said, “Durgesh’s ever closest Musalmān friends seem to enjoy their ardent Musalmān wives telling them how much bigger Durgesh’s Uncut Hindu Lund is, and how much the ardent Musalmān wives of Durgesh’s Musalmān friends enjoy being fucked by Durgesh.”
Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, smiled incredulously,
“Nonsense! I don’t believe you. Would that excite you if I fuck your friend Durgesh and praise his unique legendary Uncut Hindu Lund?” Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, asked.
“Well, I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it.” Muħammad calmed down, losing his enthusiasm altogether.
Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, smiled ironically, cunningly.
But to her immense surprise, Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, found herself getting wet between her legs.
She was horrified.
Her sub conscious was enjoying the idea that Durgesh fucks her and Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, tells Muħammad her sexual adventures with me.
But Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, found her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot getting more and more wet imagining Durgesh’s Uncut Hindu Lund into her, and Durgesh fucking Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, ravenously, wildly, savagely.
She looked at Muħammad clandestinely.
He wasn’t paying any attention to her.
Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah was quiet for the next few miles.
Muħammad was enjoying stealing glances at her as he drove.
Her short black skirt settled about half way down her excellent thighs, and each time Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, crossed or uncrossed her legs, Muħammad would get a quick glimpse of her stocking tops.
She’d long abandoned garter belts, preferring instead the look and feel of thigh high stockings.
Muħammad knew that under that skirt Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah was wearing her black satin T-back panties.
On top she had on a very sheer white blouse, and under her blouse were her bare breasts.
Muħammad hadn’t seen them because Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah was wearing a black jacket over the blouse, but Muħammad knew they’d be bare…Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah seldom wore a bra!
Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah’s exquisite Musalmān breasts were a work of art!
Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah supported a double D cup, size 36.
They were creamy white…had no freckles on them…and ended with the most exquisite nipples!
Her nipples were pinkish to brown…and when aroused resembled a .38 caliber bullet.
Their pet name for this part of her anatomy was bullet nips…and with excellent reasons.
They could become hard as bullets, and Muħammad often joked…twice as deadly!
Even Durgesh had risked all to squeeze her nips…to feel the firmness of Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah’s exquisite Musalmān breasts…to know the exquisite taste and depth of her extremely beautiful ever tight Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot.
In Muħammad’s opinion, It was only fitting that he used to describe Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah’s exquisite Musalmān breasts in such vernacular as to make Smith and Wesson proud!
When she did speak again, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah simply uttered one sentence.
“You know, Muħammad, my Panjvaqtah Namāzī extremely beautiful ardent Musalmān women friends who fuck Durgesh, claim that Durgesh has larger Uncut Hindu Lund than their Musalmān husbands and yours too.”
Muħammad had never made much of an issue about the size of Durgesh fucking Muħammad’s extremely beautiful Musalmān houseladies.
The fact that Durgesh was fucking Muħammad’s entire extremely beautiful Musalmān houseladies was more than enough for Muħammad!
But her statement was made to excite Muħammad…and to tell the truth…something about it did just that.
Muħammad was a bit excited at the prospect of her fucking Durgesh better endowed than Muħammad… Durgesh whose Uncut Hindu Lund would stretch her extremely beautiful ever tight Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot to conform to his Uncut Hindu Lund, not Muħammad’s.
Muħammad continued what Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, had obviously started.
“No, I wasn’t aware of that.”
“It isquite true…Muħammad, I can’t think of very many men whose equipment would be as small as yours. Don’t misunderstand me, Muħammad, I love you a lot…and I love your cut Musalmān nūnī …but sweetie…it was not the biggest one around…not by a long shot!”
“Why haven’t you mentioned this before?”
“Why would I? It was not like you could make yours grow bigger now, is it? It was not like there’s anything you could do to make me want it more…plus, sweetie, you were pretty nice to let me fuck Durgesh whenever I wanted. So when I needed a bigger Uncut Hindu Lund…a man-sized one…Muħammad, I simply go to Durgesh. That’s okay, isn’t it, sweetie?”
“Only to Durgesh?”
“Only to Durgesh.” Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, smiled at Muħammad lovingly.
“You too love Durgesh’s unique legendary Uncut Hindu Lund into your extremely beautiful ever tight Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot, don’t you, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah?” Muħammad was suddenly jealous of me.
Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, laughed,
“Oh, sure. Exclusively. You are my husband, Muħammad. But Durgesh is my lover.Do you understand?”
This was kind of exciting. Muħammad continued the probe.
“Were you looking for Durgesh’s Uncut Hindu Lund, tonight? Is that why you’re dressed like you are?”
“You know…in stockings…and your T-back.”
“Oh, you know what, sweetie? I forgot all about that old T-back.” With that statement she lifted herself off the seat a few inches, slid her hands under her skirt and withdrew them, along with her panties. “Muħammad, I won’t be needing these tonight, after all, I’m only dancing.”
Muħammad’s cut Musalmān nūnī was rock hard instantly.
All the talk about Durgesh fucking her with better Uncut Hindu Lund than Muħammad’s had already gotten Muħammad in a turned-on state, but when he realized Muħammad’s wife was about to get on a dance floor with Durgesh , and allow Durgesh to hold her body close to his, and Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah would have her totally naked extremely beautiful ever tight Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot against Durgesh’s Uncut Hindu Lund…well, Muħammad could have cut glass with his diamond hard cut Musalmān nūnī!
But Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah wasn’t through with her new toy of husband humiliation yet.
There was still more to come.
“Tell me, Muħammad. When Durgesh fucks me and you’re in the same room, and you see he’s fucking me with a bigger Uncut Hindu Lund than yours, would you mind if I mentioned it to him? Would you mind if I mention to my Hindu lover that your cut Musalmān nūnī is sooooo small? It wouldn’t embarrass you, would it? I mean…the truth is the truth! Isn’t it, my dear husband?”*
Muħammad Åbdullah Hāshmī was dumbfounded.
Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah was definitely, certainly and deliberately humiliating him.
Allah, didn’t she knew before marrying Muħammad Åbdullah Hāshmī how small bis cut Musalmān nūnī was.
Was he alone, however?
Aren’t most of the Musalmīn suffering from the same problem?
Why the hell their Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān wives are fucking Durgesh/other Hindu(s) otherwise?
But he didn’t say what he really felt.
Instead, he said,
“He’d rather you not do that, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah.”
“Why? Are you overly sensitive about your smallest cut Musalmān nūnī?”
“Well, up to right now, I never considered it to be below average. I thought it was fine, up to now.”
“Such an interesting choice of words, sweetie. Average. That’s like, ‘ordinary’ or ‘common’ isn’t it? I mean, an average anything is unremarkable, isn’t it? Unremarkable…and…and I guess one might say ‘boring.'” Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah turned her legs toward Muħammad.
Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, and Muħammad were pulling into the parking lot of the club as she ran her hands along the inside of Muħammad’s legs, allowing him to feel her fingernails rake across the tender inner thighs under his trousers.
Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah was less than an 1/8 of an inch away from the head of Muħammad’s cut Musalmān nūnī.
Her hands stopped as Muħammad put the car in park and turned off the keys.
Her legs were not close together…in fact…Muħammad was certain Muħammad could see her extremely beautiful ever tight Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot hair from the position Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah was in.
Muħammad reached over for her, to pull her closer to him…to put his hands where his eyes were, to feel her heat.
But Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, moved back too quickly.
In one motion, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah was out of Muħammad’s reach, than out of his car.
Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah stood on the parking lot and waited for Muħammad to lock the car.
As Muħammad came around to her side she didn’t wait for him.
Instead, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah started into the club.
“Try not to get in my way, tonight, sweetie. Muħammad, I think I may be in the mood for a quickie before we get home.”
And just to make sure Muħammad understood what Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, meant, Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah,dded,
“And who knows…I may even give you a little, too!” With that Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah walked into the club.
Muħammad could hear the music blaring through the loud speakers.
His entire body was on fire…waiting with sure anticipation for what Muħammad knew would be a memorable night!*
Once inside the club, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah found a booth on the very edge of the dance floor.
It would easily seat four, and usually, Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, and Muħammad would have taken a smaller table.
But Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah sat down and Muħammad sat with her.
She opened her purse and took out her cigarettes and lighter and sat back, crossing her legs, allowing her skirt to ride high over the right leg.
Muħammad enjoyed the show.
But he knew it was only the show he could enjoy now.
Before she even had her first drag of her cigarette, I approached their table.
I smiled easily as I asked her for a dance.
Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah smiled back…that smile that tells a stranger Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, could be had.
Muħammad knew that smile.
Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, had practiced it on Muħammad for years.
Cigarette in the ashtray, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah slid out of the booth and was on her way to the dance floor with her conquest, me, Durgesh.
Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah stopped, turned back to me and said, “Whiskey.”
Muħammad knew what that meant.
The last time Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, had ordered whiskey in a club, she ended up fucking Durgesh five times in different sex positions.
She later told Muħammad that whiskey made her “crazy.”
And now, here Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah was…ordering the one drink that would make her even more uncontrollable than usual.
Muħammad couldn’t wait to place the order.
Muħammad watched her dance.
The floor wasn’t crowded, it still being early.
And Muħammad must say, the man Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, had accepted as her first dance partner didn’t seem to be overly aggressive.
Why should be I?
Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah was herself dying to fuck me then and there.
The band was playing a rather fast number, not allowing for a great deal of physical contact.
It didn’t matter.
When Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah danced, everyone noticed.
Her skirt seemed to have a will of its own.
As she danced, it rose up on her legs, and when Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, had reached up over her head with her arms, it would pull even higher, exposing the tops of her stockings…exciting not only me…but anyone else who realized how hot Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah was, how hot Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah was becoming.
The number was over, and her “escort” brought her back to the table.
As I turned to go back to my own table, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah leaned over and whispered something in my ear.
Muħammad couldn’t make out exactly what Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah said, but I smiled and replied,
“Sure. Glad to.”
With that I left them alone at their table..
“Did you enjoy that?” Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah,sked.
“What? Watching you dance?”
“Yes. Muħammad, I know how much you like to watch.”
“Yes, I suppose I did. Did you?”
“What, did I enjoy dancing…or enjoy you watching?”
“Either. Both. Durgesh is a good dancer, isn’t he?”
She leaned across the table.
Ignoring his question, she had another one of her own.
“Did it make your little dick hard? Did your penie-winnie get hard watching my skirt rise up my legs?”
Muħammad felt embarrassed.
Muħammad didn’t know why.
No one could hear what Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, had said except Muħammad…still, her now sudden interest in demeaning Muħammad’s manhood seemed to arouse Muħammad even more, and as Muħammad became aroused… Muħammad became more self-conscious about the size of what he’d considered to be a respectable cut Musalmān nūnī until less than an hour ago.
Little did Muħammad know that what Muħammad was feeling was nothing compared to what Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, had in store for Muħammad.*
Just than, I, her dance partner, showed back up at their booth, this time with her drink in hand.
Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, moved toward Muħammad…making room for me to sit with them…with her really…and as I slid in next to her, Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, let out an almost inaudible sigh…a sigh that Muħammad understood all to well.
“Muħammad…this is your Hindu Bahnoī, Durgesh. Durgesh…my husband, Muħammad.” Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah introduced us as if Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, had known both of us forever.
Muħammad extended her hand to me impishly, but oddly enough, I ignored it.
Muħammad assumed U hadn’t seen it.
The lighting wasn’t real good in there, or maybe…or maybe I was just rude on Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah’s express request.
Muħammad didn’t much care which.
But Muħammad did feel stupid with his hand extended and me ignoring him.
Muħammad put his hand down.
I wasn’t paying any attention to Muħammad, anyhow.
Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah was the star of my show.
Muħammad’s wife turned to him and said, “Oh, listen. A slow song. Feel like another dance, Durgesh?”
A stupid question.
I slid out of the booth, and she followed me.
This time, before going to the floor, she reached back to the table and picked up her drink.
She kicked it back in one motion.
A shot of whiskey…straight…and now down her throat.
She followed e to the dance floor.
Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah was right, it was a much slower song, and this time we did touch.
Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah’s 5’7″ frame just folded into my ever strong Hindu body.
Even with her heels on, she only came to my shoulders.
Damn, Muħammad had to admit…Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, had picked a fine specimen as usual.
Even with my coat on, Muħammad could tell I was as usual, well built.
I still looked like an athlete, and moved like one as well.
Several times during the dance, I’d say something to her, whisper it actually into her ear, and Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, had look up at me with those big green eyes that separates a real red-head from the bottle variety.
Muħammad thought Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah was going to kiss me once or twice, but nothing like that happened.
It was a really uneventful dance and when it was over, we returned to the booth.
This time, as Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah slid in, Muħammad was sure he’d seen a flash of her pubic hair…but Muħammad couldn’t be certain.
But Muħammad knew if Muħammad had…so too had Durgesh, I.
Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah turned her body to face her partner, placing her back to Muħammad.
She began a conversation with me, and Muħammad really couldn’t hear a word Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah said.
With a combination of her back being toward Muħammad, and the music from the band, plus the buzz from the other patrons, Muħammad really felt left out.
Muħammad wondered if Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah knew how rude Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah was being.
Muħammad wasn’t even sure she remembered Muħammad was there.
Muħammad was wrong.
Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah turned back to Muħammad and said in a rather sharp voice,
“Didn’t you order me another drink? If you’re worried about the expense…I’ve got my own money. Haven’t I”*
Damn! Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, had never said anything like that to Muħammad before.
She knew damn well Muħammad didn’t care about the cost of anything.
Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, had simply said that to belittle Muħammad…to make Muħammad look small.
Like his cut Musalmān nūnī.
Muħammad put his hand up to summon a waitress…Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah didn’t like that.
“Shit, Muħammad. Don’t you wait for a waitress. Go get me a drink, now. And bring Durgesh a…” turning to me Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, asked me what I was drinking.
I answered her and Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah turned back to Muħammad.
“Bring him a juice. And get one of those drinks with an umbrella for yourself. You do so much like those weak little drinks.”
With that Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah turned back to her friend, me, and said something that amused me.
I laughed and so did she.
And as Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, laughed, Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, allowed her hand to rest on my thigh.
And as Muħammad watched, her hand went from resting to stroking…to stroking my thigh, then to fondling…to placing her hand too high up for it to be touching anything other than my Uncut Hindu Lund!
Muħammad hurried off for the drinks.
He felt himself immensely ignored and humiliated.*
When Muħammad returned, we had changed positions.
I was sitting in the middle of the booth.
Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah was at the end where I had been.
Perhaps the most obvious thing was that Muħammad couldn’t see her left hand at all.
Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah was turned facing him, her right arm resting on the table, but her left hand was down under the cloth, down under the surface of the table.
In his gut, Muħammad knew what Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, had done.
Muħammad started to get in next to her, but Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, looked at Muħammad and simply said,
“You need to get in on the other side, Muħammad.”
No explanation, no anything.
Just “get in on the other side.”
This of course placed me in the middle flanked by Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah on my right, and Muħammad on my left.
Muħammad placed Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah’s drink in front of her, and my juice in front of me.
Muħammad hadn’t ordered one for himself.
Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah noticed that immediately.
“Where’s your drink?”
“I don’t want one.”
“Well, of course you do!” Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, looked out across the area until Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah spotted a waitress.
“Miss…Oh, Miss.” Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah wasn’t usually that obvious when summoning a wait person.
Muħammad couldn’t understand why Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah was now.
The waitress made her way to the table.
Before she was actually there, Muħammad’s wife called out a drink order for Muħammad.
“Can you bring my husband a drink, please. Maybe a Pink Lady or something like that. Not a real strong drink. He’s not used to manly things.”
Muħammad could have died!
Muħammad knew it was not likely, but Muħammad swear that everyone in the place heard what Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah said.
Now Muħammad admits he was not much of a drinker, but when Muħammad do, Muħammad usually order something along the line of gin and tonic or maybe a vodka martini, but he’d never order a drink like a Pink Lady.
Allah! Allah! My, God!
Muħammad was mortified.
And of course, I was having a field day at Muħammad’s expense.
Muħammad realized I’d still not spoken a word to Muħammad.
I was ignoring Muħammad as if Muħammad wasn’t even there.
Here Muħammad was, providing me entertainment and juice and I still hadn’t spoken to Muħammad.
Muħammad was really getting pissed off, and was just about to say something when Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah leaned over toward Muħammad and spoke.
“Muħammad. Do you know what I’m doing?”
“Other than pissing me off?”
“No, Muħammad, I mean, what I’m doing with my left hand. Do you know what I’m doing?”
Muħammad didn’t have to ask.
Be looked down at the space between the table and us and Muħammad could honestly say Muħammad was shocked!
Muħammad’s wife had taken My Uncut Hindu Lund out of my pants and was playing with it, jerking me off right there between them.
And Muħammad must say, other than the shock of seeing what Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah was doing, Muħammad was even more surprised at the size of my Uncut Hindu Lund.
It was the largest Uncut Hindu Lund Muħammad’d ever seen her hold.
Now, by now you know Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah and Muħammad weren’t what one would call a conventional couple…but this really was outlandish, even by her standards.
But even this was nothing compared with what was to follow.*
His wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah smiled to Muħammad,
“Muħammad, Muħammad, I want you to feel this Uncut Hindu Lund. It’s what your entire extremely beautiful Musalmān houseladies enjoy in their Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choots. ” Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah said that as normally as she could have said, “Feel this material,” or “Feel this grape.”
Muħammad knew Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah said it in a whisper, but in his ears, the words thundered!
Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, might as well as had a neon sign with a flashing arrow pointing to my lap and a loud speaker blaring,
“Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah’s holding Durgesh’s Uncut Hindu Lund and wants Muħammad to feel it, too!”
Muħammad looked away, toward the dance floor.
Oh, how Muħammad wished they would stop this and go dance instead.
“Muħammad. Did you hear me? Muħammad, I want you to feel Durgesh’s Uncut Hindu Lund that serve your entire extremely beautiful Musalmān houseladies’ Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunts . Durgesh said you can. I told him I wished my husband’s cut Musalmān nūnī was like this…so big…so hard. Go ahead, now. Put your hand down here and feel Durgesh’s Uncut Hindu Lund for me. Be a good boy, Muħammad, or Muħammad, I swear, I’ll go down on him right here in front of everyone.”*
Muħammad knew Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, would do it, too.
Trying not to be obvious…Muħammad placed his right hand under the table and tentatively reached over, running the back of his hand over my hot, hard Uncut Hindu Lund.
The instant Muħammad’s hand bumped against it, Muħammad jerked back…as if he’d been burned by a hot piece of steel.
This didn’t make Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah happy.
“Muħammad, I told you to touch it. Put it in your hand. Close your palm around it…or as much of it as you could…and tell me what it feels like. Do it, Muħammad. Do it now.”
Muħammad did as Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, had instructed.
Muħammad’s right palm closed around my Uncut Hindu Lund…this huge hunk of Uncut Hindu Lund meat…and Muħammad must say…Muħammad was impressed.
It was huge!
Muħammad had a random thought… Allah, thank God Muħammad didn’t have to buy this for her by the pound.
Muħammad just held it in is hand, and Muħammad felt a movement below his hand.
It was Muħammad’s wife’s.
Muħammad realized that this Uncut Hindu Lund was so big, that they both had their hands on it…and neither of them touched the other’s hand.
“What do you think, Muħammad. Isn’t it gigantic? Think what your entire extremely beautiful Musalmān houseladies enjoy in their Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunts. Don’t you appreciate? ”
Muħammad didn’t respond.
What the hell did she expect Muħammad to say.
But Muħammad didn’t take his hand away, either.
Muħammad could feel it pulsing in his hand.
Muħammad could feel it growing!
“Muħammad, I said, ‘What do you think.'” Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah repeated, a little louder this time. “What do you think about Durgesh’s Uncut Hindu Lund, Muħammad?”
“It is very nice, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah.”
“Very nice? Nice is a spring shower. Muħammad…how does it compare to yours? How does Durgesh’s man-sized Uncut Hindu Lund compare to yours? Which one do you think will give me the most pleasure? Which one do you think I should fuck, Muħammad, tonight?”
“I said it is very nice.”
“Why don’t we compare, Muħammad. Take yours out now. Let’s see yours. Show Durgesh what I usually get when you fuck me, Muħammad. Come on…take it out.”
“Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, please!”
“I’m not pleased, Muħammad. Muħammad, I want Durgesh to see your cut Musalmān nūnī . He’s shown you his. Now take yours out for him to see. He won’t laugh. Muħammad, I promise.”
“Please. Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah. Don’t do this.”
“Why not, sweetie. You were the one who brought the whole thing up. Now, we’re talking. Now, we’ll see if your cut Musalmān nūnī is as little as I seem to remember it. Show it to us now, or Muħammad, I promise you, I’ll never look at it again, much less fuck it.”
Muħammad did as Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, commanded.
Without taking his right hand off of My growing Uncut Hindu Lund, Muħammad unzipped his pants and reached in to withdraw his cut Musalmān nūnī.
It was not easy to do.
It was hard as the table top, and Muħammad only had one free hand to work with.
Besides, with both hands under the table, Muħammad was aware of how Muħammad must appear to observers.
It looked like Muħammad was diddling himself, like Muħammad was playing with my Uncut Hindu Lund.
But then, Muħammad guessed he was.
Muħammad freed his hard cut Musalmān nūnī and covered it with his hand.
Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah wasn’t through with Muħammad yet.
“Muħammad, jerk on it to make it hard. Muħammad, I want to see it hard!”
Muħammad mumbled his answer.
The waitress was back with his drink.
The band had stopped playing.
The room was much quieter.
The waitress was standing there.
Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah was waiting for Muħammad to pay for the drink.
Muħammad’s left hand had his cut Musalmān nūnī in it. His right had my Uncut Hindu Lund.
And Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah kept repeating herself.
“Make it hard. Muħammad, I want to see it hard. Make it hard like Durgesh is hard! Now. Muħammad, I want to see it hard, NOW!”
“IT IS HARD, DAMN, YOU. THIS IS AS BIG AS IT GETS! YOU KNOW THAT! IT IS NOT AS BIG AS Durgesh’s. It is not as big as Durgesh’s. It is not…”
Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah reached into her purse.
She gave the waitress ten bucks and told her to keep the change.
Muħammad just looked down at the table top.
The worse thing, however, hadn’t happened yet.
Muħammad was still a few seconds away from the worse part of this story.
Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah asked Muħammad again,
“Who should I fuck, tonight, Muħammad? Who deserves this extremely beautiful ever tight Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot? Should I give it to a man like Durgesh, or to someone like you?”
Muħammad didn’t answer.
Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah, asked Muħammad again, but this time in a lower voice.
“Muħammad. Listen to me. Muħammad, I want you to tell me what to do. Should I give it to Durgesh? Should I let him fuck me…or do you want me to diddle that little thing of yours? Just tell me, baby. I’ll do whatever you say.”
Then the worst thing happened.
Muħammad came all over Muħammad’s hand, all over Muħammad’s zipper, all over his pants.
Muħammad shot a load of cum that didn’t seem to end.
And the more Muħammad shot, the more Muħammad felt like Muħammad couldn’t stop.
Muħammad didn’t want it to stop. Muħammad wanted to cum all night, until Muħammad flooded the bar with his jism…until Muħammad floated out of the damn place on a sea of white, sticky cum.
And as Muħammad shot his final spurt, Muħammad heard Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah say to Durgesh…
“I think Muħammad wants me to fuck you, Durgesh. Are you ready?”
In the Hindu Lund Musalmān Choot International Club?
Muħammad fell from the seventh sky.
Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah undressed me.
I undressed her.
She played with my Uncut Hindu Lund openly.
I kissed her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot.
Everyone was clapping.
Muħammad’s wife, Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah kissed, licked my Uncut Hindu Lund and then swallowed into her extremely beautiful ardent Musalmān mouth.
She sucked me to her heart’s content.
I entered her ultimately.
She was lying on her back.
I went between her well spread legs.
She put her legs on my shoulders.
I entered Saiyadah Åāyeshah Siddīqah and fucked her till infinity.
Muħammad thought that.
My Uncut Hindu Lund never left Muħammad’s extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān wife’s ardent Musalmān Cunt after that.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Indexes: Creative Adult Sex: Durgesh
1. Ahal-Al Bayt
10. Midterm 2012
13. The Yacht
14. The Audacity
18. The Chairman
19. The Oath
21. Majājī Kħudā
37. Ammi, you too?
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Sun sparkled from the crested tops of restless waves.
I paced the deck, enjoying fresh air and the mild sunlight through clouds.
My hands were thrust deep in the pockets of a double breasted coat.
My rubber soled shoes trod lightly along the teakwood deck.
The cold breeze tried to ruffle my ever black hair unsuccessfully.
The heavy door from the forward social hall was pushed open one inch or two.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan shouldered it open.
She stood there with wind whipped skirts.
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim stepped across the high threshold.
Both of them released the door.
The wind pushed it against the automatic door check.
I walked behind both of them.
“Ship Ahoy!” I called.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and Al Samīnah Al Qāsim, both turned to me.
“The other side is less windy.” I smiled at both of them.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan nodded.
The cold wind was blowing the tendrils of hair across her extremely beautiful Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān face.
“Al Samīnah Al Qāsim,” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan introduced us, “this is Durgesh, my husband, and the Hindu husband of us entire extremely striking Musalmān Beauties, if you don’t mind my bluntness.”
“Naåīmah,” I admonished Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan somewhat curtly, “behave yourself, you stupid.”
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim smiled at me.
“It’s alright. I never mind. Most of us extremely attractive Musalmān Beauties, rather, never mind your titles related to us, actually. We think they are in fact compliments to us Musalmān Beauties instead.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan winked at me.
“Now, come on. You Hindu scoundrel, the ever best ever greatest fucker of us extremely lovely Musalmān Beauties, we both are starving to death.”
“Let’s go, my extremely stunning Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān wives.”
With an extremely attractive Musalmān Beauty on each of my Hindu male arm, I started forward along the deck.
They were playing with my Uncut Hindu Penis impishly.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan had unzipped me and had brought it out.
With every female treatment of both the extremely lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Beauties my Uncut Hindu Penis was extending and growing in their fists violently.
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim was playing with it rather shyly somewhat, but Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was not ashamed of it even a bit.
Rounding the bow, the wind pushed us down the sloping incline, into the lee of the deck.
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim put her hair back into place, laughed, and said,
“That’s what’s known as wind blown job. I’ve been hearing a lot about you, Durgesh.”
“Most of my extremely beautiful Musalmān women friends are already enjoying your Hindu sex kicks.”
“They say you’re unique in love and lovemaking both.”
“Tell them my numerous thanks.”
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim faced me with laughing, dark eyes, full red lips, parted to reveal teeth that glinted as whitecaps in the sun.
The silk blouse, open at the neck, disclosed the sweep of her tremendously lovely Musalmān throat, the rounded curve of her firm breasts.
“Durgesh darling, I saw you and my Ammī fucking and talking last night. I bet Ammī told you all about the family mystery.”*
I looked at Al Samīnah Al Qāsim.
“Sure. Don’t try to act innocent.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan flashed me a quick glance,
“What’s the family mystery, Al Samīnah Al Qāsim?”
“The disappearance of my portrait. Ammī packed my autographed picture in Abbū’s bag. She locked the bag carefully. When they unpacked, my picture was gone from the frame. Someone had inserted one of Zāherah Ħusayn instead, the Pakistani Musalmān heroine that worked in Indian movies too. I resemble her to the extent as if we both are twin sisters. Now, what do you know about that?”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan glanced reproachfully at me.
“I know nothing about it. What does your Ammī think about it? If she has talked with Durgesh about it, we can…”
“That’s the point. Ammī is making it darkly mysterious. Well, don’t deprive her of her thrill. If Ammī tells you about it, act as if you didn’t know anything before Ammī told you it.”
“You are sure Durgesh and your Ammī were fucking when they were talking?”
“I watched them myself.” Al Samīnah Al Qāsim said curtly, “My Ammī was on her knees and our Durgesh darling was fucking her from her glorious behind. You say Durgesh is thirty four, why the hell then he is interested in my Ammī more than me?”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan watched me furiously.
“He loves big heavy female Musalmān buttocks filling his nude Hindu male lap when he fucks us, damn it.”
“She does not take it seriously.” I smiled.
“Me?” Al Samīnah Al Qāsim squeezed my Uncut Hindu Penis more, to make me suffer from pain somewhat.
She raised her chin and laughed into my face.
“My parents think I never take anything seriously—life, liberty, or the pursuit of love. I’m the flippant younger generation. Hell, they never suspect it’s my act only. I’m immensely serious about everything.”
“And how about your Abbū, Al Muħammad Al Qāsim? How does he take it?”*
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim laughed.
She squeezed my Uncut Hindu Penis significantly.
Despite her tremendous efforts to act as if my Uncut Hindu Penis was not the first she was playing with, her inherent shyness and enormously hidden nervousness were constantly telling me I was the ever first man in her life she was enjoying even the foreplay with.
I looked at Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan disapprovingly.
Why the hell Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan doesn’t understand?
Her Seven Movements had upset the normal life of almost everyone, almost entire humankind.
“Oh, Abbū takes it right in his stride.” Al Samīnah Al Qāsim said, “He is a Thinker, carries the Multiverse on his shoulders. Despite the fact that you are the ever best ever greatest fucker of us extremely lovely Musalmān Beauties, Abbū thinks you are Imām Ħazrat Mahdi ålayhissalām .”
“Well,” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan said innocently, “I think…”
“You don’t think, you never think.” I said coldly, “You just fix a target and conspire to achieve it.”
“My dear ever best ever greatest fucker of us extremely lovely Musalmān Beauties,” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled cunningly, “it takes a deep thinking even to conspire.”
“Shame on you.”
“Let it be. I damn care.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan winked at me, entirely unashamed of herself, “You mankind think every shame is for us womankind only. I refuse to obey your ever selfish decisions. Why the hell should we womankind obey you mankind? After all we womankind are infinitely more in numbers than you mankind are. In Democracy…”
“Oh shut up,” I said, “I’m fed up of your communal philosophies. You think every Musalmān male is a terrorist or a potential terrorist at least. But the Musalmān Beauties are neither. Every Hindu male is a born democrat, and…”
“Prove me wrong.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan challenged me.*
I smiled curtly.
“As if I haven’t already every now and then.”
“Never.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan said shamelessly, “You have only argued every time.”
I squeezed her buttocks.
“Sālī, ‘Ūnŧh ré ūnŧh, térī kaun sī kal sīdhī’?”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan pushed my Uncut Hindu Prick into Al Samīnah Al Qāsim’s heretofore virgin mouth.
I felt embarrassed.
But to my surprise, Al Samīnah Al Qāsim kissed it lovingly, licked it and then started to suck it ravenously.
“I’ll be damned.” I murmured to myself.
“Enjoying it?” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan asked Al Samīnah Al Qāsim impishly.
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim nodded, brought my Uncut Hindu Prick out of her mouth and said.
“My Ammī was not the first I saw Durgesh fucking.”
“Allah Allah! I never thought you were so veteran a voyeur.”
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim laughed.
“A virgin is a voyeur mostly.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan watched her step Ammī cunningly.
“Ammījān, I think you are right. I was also a veteran voyeur until I seduced Durgesh.”
Both of them laughed.
“You were telling me about your Abbū.” I reminded Al Samīnah Al Qāsim.*
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim smiled.
“Only occasionally can I get Abbū to set it down long enough to play with me.”
I squeezed her breasts.
“Sālī, that doesn’t answer my question.”
“You can’t call me Sālī, your sister in law. I’m your Ammī in law, your mother in law instead. Don’t forget Imām Muħammad Ħasan is still my husband.”
“Ex-husband.” I reminded Al Samīnah Al Qāsim.
I watched her dubiously.
Was she still married to Imām Muħammad Ħasan?
And Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is guiding and patronizing her?
But how the hell could it be?
Imām Muħammad Ħasan still has four duly legal Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān wives.
Yes, he doesn’t touch them anymore.
I fuck all of them instead.
But they are still his wives legally.
Is Al Samīnah Al Qāsim playing some deep game with Imām Muħammad Ħasan?
If Al Samīnah Al Qāsim hasn’t divorced Imām Muħammad Ħasan, Al Samīnah Al Qāsim is his fifth legal duly married wife.
Does Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan know it?
Has she planned deliberately to exile Imām Muħammad Ħasan from Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat to protect him from Al Samīnah Al Qāsim?
I was more vigilant now of Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and Al Samīnah Al Qāsim both.*
Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr smiled patronizingly.
“Colonel Åbdul Raħmān was a commando. Wasn’t he?”
“What the hell do you mean?” Muħammad bin Qāsim grimaced, “Commandos can’t be murdered?”
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand, Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim, and even Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled sophisticatedly, yet patronizingly at Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr.
“I suppose,” Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr said, “all this is just a conversational background, a barrage, a bombardment, of words. They are trying to get us to commit ourselves. Umm-al-Åālmīn, I’m quite certain either Umm-al-Åālmīn Al Samīnah Al Qāsim is playing some deeper game, or Al Sadar Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat, Umm-al-Åālmīn, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan herself has planned it. Colonel Åbdul Raħmān was her commando. It wasn’t easy to murder him.”
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand, Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim, and even Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled again.
“I’m not Allah Rabbil Åālmīn, Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled.
“Yet you are Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allahu tålā ånahā herself reincarnated. Aren’t you?”
“Sure,” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled, “nevertheless, not Allah Rabbil Åālmīn.”
Muħammad bin Qāsim laughed.
“Her worst critics claim Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan Bājī is following her Hindu Live in relationship partner’s every step. What Durgesh Jījū has done Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan Bājī would also do action by action. You can’t win her, Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr.”*
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim was now on her knees.
My Uncut Hindu Penis was visiting her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt now.
“Once a barrister always a barrister. Are you cross examining me now, my Hindu Love?”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was smiling watching my still growing Uncut Hindu Cock penetrating the glorious glamorous Musalmān Cunt of Al Samīnah Al Qāsim.
Despite my constant efforts to avoid them, Jet Musalmān Beauties were still constantly succeeding in winning my Uncut Hindu Penis for their ever aggressive ever feminist Musalmān Cunts.
It was necessary.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was vowed to establish Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah.
It was the only solution to stop the kidnapping, smuggling and selling of Musalmān Beauties.
Only Hindu husbands/Live in relationship Partners could be trusted.
Saiyadah Fātimah PhD and Kħadījah Muħammad both wanted to establish Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah.
Yet, none of them could have the courage enough to say it openly.
Not only Musalmīn, even Durgesh was against it.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan used it to win Saiyadah Fātimah PhD and Kħadījah Muħammad both despite my opposition.
She made it a movement.
“Al Samīnah Al Qāsim,” I pulled my Uncut Hindu Penis out of her glorious Musalmān Cunt until only its head remained inside, “what does your father, Al Muħammad Al Qāsim, say about it? What are your own theories incidentally?”
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim shook her head.
She waited a few minutes for me to push my Uncut Hindu Cock back into her ravenous Musalmān Cunt, but when she saw I was concentrating somewhere else instead of on fucking her optimum, she felt her extraordinary Musalmān beauty insulted.
“Hey, where the hell are you concentrating? Give me that back.”
“Your legendary Uncut Hindu Lund. Push it back into me. Will you?”
“You must be. I would never forgive you if you ever do it again. Once out, I want it into me back, immediately. Do you understand?”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan laughed.
“Does he do it with you too?” Al Samīnah Al Qāsim asked Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and answered my question as well, “I don’t have theories. I’m too young. Moreover, I’m a practical woman rather. I never dream of anything. I march ahead instead, and get it practically, as I’m going to do now.”
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim pushed her own gorgeous glorious Saåūdī Årab Panjvaqtah Namāzī Wahābī Musalmān buttocks back into my nude Hindu male lap and swallowed my entire Uncut Hindu Prick into her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Cunt deepest, “I love it deepest, my dear.”
“Abbū Imām liked your aggressive sex?” I smiled fucking her somewhat more vigorously now.
“Never. He is too a damn fool Musalmān.”
“Al Samīnah Al Qāsim Ammī.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan protested disapprovingly.
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim laughed.
“Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, my dear immensely successful daughter. I’m with you, because you are running your Seven Movements, you have vowed taking Al Qur’an Al Karim in your pious hand to establish Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah. That’s what these damn fool Musalmīn need. Replace them with Hindus for ever and forget the bastards.”
“You ever communal bitches,” I said curtly, “always thinking with your ever ravenous Musalmān Cunts instead of with your brains.”
“No Musalmān bastard is here to appreciate you.” Al Samīnah Al Qāsim too smiled curtly, “I know you adopt this attitude to please your Musalmān fathers in law and your Musalmān brothers in law. They don’t have any power now. They are cuckolded to you and us, their Musalmān houseladies.”
“You are helping their enemies. Have you ever thought of it?”
“Qāzī jī dublé kyon? Shahar kā andéshah. Why the hell you always think of others, instead of yourself and us? Enjoy our extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān bodies, you stupid.”*
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand looked at Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr.
“You have a telephone over there in the corner. Just ring the Ved Nagar police and ask them if a Colonel Åbdul Raħmān was murdered at an early hour this morning.”
Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr promptly crossed over to the telephone, smiled sharply and said,
“That’s a very nice bluff you’re running. We won’t let it work however. I’m going to call you cold right now. Whenever someone makes a pass at me I call him/her then and there ineludibly.”
Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr picked up the receiver.
“I want the police station, please,”
Then, after a moment, he said,
“Can you kindly tell me whether a Colonel Åbdul Raħmān was murdered this morning somewhere near Oceanside, Ved Nagar?… Never mind who this is. I’m simply asking a question…Well, let’s put it this way. I might be a witness in case there’s anything to it…”
Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr held the receiver in silence for several seconds.
Amīnah Zahīr was enjoying my Uncut Hindu Prick into her teen Musalmān Cunt in the meantime, smiling smartly.
She was herself fucking me now.
I stood still there on my knees behind Amīnah Zahīr.
Entirely nude Amīnah Zahīr was herself making the back forth and again back movements ruthlessly.
When it came out to sex, Amīnah Zahīr was almost an female animal with me.
It was rare I fucked her.
Mostly Amīnah Zahīr fucked me herself.
And that even almost most savagely usually.
Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr suddenly said in the mouthpiece,
Then he slammed the receiver back into place.
He turned and faced his audience.
Then he started pacing the floor.
His eyes were half slit in thoughts.
He pushed his hands down deep in the side pockets of his double breasted coat.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim, Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand and Muħammad bin Qāsim were watching him patiently, yet with a smirk.
Abruptly, Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr turned, standing with his back to the wall.
“All right,” he said, “I’m security in charge here. Ms. Amīnah Zahīr is not a nobody. She virtually owns our Kħilāfat Movement. She is one of the most important sponsors to our cause.”
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand smiled contemptuously.
“Oh sure, I happen to know all of your bloody movement. What’s it? You are fighting for establishing a Triple Society, a Threesome Society actually. Musalmān wife, Hindu lover and thoroughly Cuckold Musalmān husband. Shame on you. You call it a Kħilāfat Movement? I’m surprised. Ms. Amīnah Zahīr is one of your most important sponsors, not because she and the other similar sponsors are sympathetic to you. They want you cuckolded. Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan Bājī is running Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah Movement. Your Triple Society is helping her cause. Jījū is against it because Jījū is against the humiliation of any human being whosoever the hell s/he is. Why the hell don’t you understand? Bājī Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is revenging what you Pseudo Musalmīn have done with Musalmān womankind. That’s why her own Abbū, Imām Muħammad Ħasan, is against her Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah despite his exile from Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat.”
Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr raised his right hand.
“I know you want to argue against our Kħilāfat Movement and even Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah as well. Imām Muħammad Ħasan has invited us to a Grand Meeting on the ‘Yacht’ of your Jījū. We have accepted the invitation. It’s not the proper place to discuss these utmost important political crises.”
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand looked at me helplessly.
“Your Bājī Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is destroying the Musalmīn completely, either under this disguise or that. She is taking advantage of each and every superstition of Pseudo Musalmīn. I’d told you, Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand, already.”*
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Then I said.
“I don’t know. Nasīm Muåāwiyah/Al Ħamd Al Åbbās never complains and always wants more. Don’t tell me you girls are all used up at 28.”
Zubaydah Bābar groaned indignantly.
“She must have a steel lining in her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Choot or something. If she can take you pounding her all night and all day. Hell you wiped out the two of us already. I’m going to have to find out her secret.”
We lay on the floor for a while joking and teasing.
Soon it was lunchtime.
We all were hungry.
After a light lunch, the Panjvaqtah Namāzī extremely beautiful Musalmān girls decided to go to the beach for the afternoon.
They wanted me to join them, but I declined claiming I had work to do.
As soon as they left, I lay down in my bed and fell immediately asleep, worn out from the morning activities.
The Panjvaqtah Namāzī extremely beautiful Musalmān girls stayed at the beach for the afternoon, giving me time to recuperate.
They returned around dinnertime and instead of cooking, we all decided to go out and grab a bite somewhere.
Between dinner and drinks, it was after 9:00 when we returned.
I was preparing myself for another “session” with these two.
I made them each a drink and we put the TV on to watch for a while.
We tuned in to the beginning of a sitcom and sat through the half hour show.
Once it was over, I looked at the Panjvaqtah Namāzī extremely beautiful Musalmān girls and realized we had been quite.
I laughed to myself as I found them both sound asleep.
I got up, covered them with a light blanket, and moved to my own bed to get some sleep.
At some point during the night, the Panjvaqtah Namāzī extremely beautiful Musalmān girls woke and crawled into bed with me.
Nishāt Nazli attempted at giving me a blowjob to wake me but she soon fell asleep with my Uncut Hindu Lund in her tremendously attractive Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān mouth.
I chuckled, woke her up, fucked Nishāt Nazli to her heart’s content and went back to sleep with Nishāt Nazli under me and Uncut Hindu Lund still buried deepest into her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Pakistani Sunni Musalmān Choot .
I woke slowly the next morning, very pleasant sensations emanating from my lower regions and as I looked down, I saw Zubaydah Bābar bobbing on my Uncut Hindu Cock.
She was giving me an early morning blowjob.
I looked over and saw Nishāt Nazli lying next to me watching Zubaydah Bābar work my Hindu meat.
I reached over, took her chin in my hand, and pulled her to my lips.
I let my tongue dance through her tremendously attractive Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān mouth as my fingers danced over her Musalmān tits, tweaking her nipples.
It took no time at all before she was rubbing her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Choot against my leg, leaving a wet streak on my thigh.
I felt as though, as Zubaydah Bābar continued sucking me off, she would spew my Hindu seed and I was not ready to cum yet so I took hold of her chin and urged her also up to me.
When I had them both, I asked smiling,
“Well, girls, who wants to get fucked first?”
Nishāt Nazli blushed and answered first,
“Not me today, I’m still sore from the poundings you gave me yesterday.”
I laughed and looked at Zubaydah Bābar.
She was worked up and horny as hell at that Moment.
Zubaydah Bābar wasted no time as she rolled on top of me and squatted over my groin, grasping my Uncut Hindu Cock in her hand Zubaydah Bābar let herself down on top of me and began to work herself on my Uncut Hindu Cock, taking all she could with each thrust.
As Zubaydah Bābar fucked herself on my Uncut Hindu Cock, I pulled Nishāt Nazli close to me and gently kissed her.
Slowly I let my kisses move from her quivering crimson Musalmān lips, across her cheek, down her neck and finally onto her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān breasts where I proceeded to squeeze a nipple and tongue it in quick flicking motions.
Nishāt Nazli was so turned on that despite the discomfort she was feeling in her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Choot she began massaging her own clit while I squeezed her Musalmān tit.
I bit down on her nipple and Nishāt Nazli came in a flood on her own hand as the pain washed across her Musalmān tit and through her extremely striking Panjvaqtah Namāzī female Musalmān body.
As Nishāt Nazli relaxed into her post orgasmic stupor, I looked at Zubaydah Bābar and saw her extremely beautiful Musalmān eyes had glazed over as she rode me.
I called her name, “Zubaydah Bābar. Zubaydah Bābar, do you want me to cum in your ass as you requested or do you want to keep riding me?”
As the idea of my Hindu seed spewing into her colon hit her, she came hard on my Uncut Hindu Lund and then answered me.
“Fuck my ass again. Shoot it in my ass.” Zubaydah Bābar begged as her cum flowed out of her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Choot and down over my balls.
I slid out from under her.
I positioned Zubaydah Bābar on her knees again and then as Nishāt Nazli watched I entered Zubaydah Bābar’s gorgeous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān ass for the second time in 24 hours.
Zubaydah Bābar groaned as I slid past her sphincter and pushed my length into her.
“Allah, Yā Allaaaaah! Durgesh darling! Méré Hindu Piyā! Hindu Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt! Hum Musalmān ħasīnāon ké Hindu Kħasam! Hindu husband of us Musalmān Beauties! I love when you fuck my Musalmān ass.” Zubaydah Bābar groaned back at me as I began slowly to rock into her.
Nishāt Nazli got turned on watching her friend and lover get ass fucked and could not resist sliding underneath her to tongue her ravenous Musalmān clit while I slid my Hindu meat into her backside.
As I stroked and Nishāt Nazli licked, Zubaydah Bābar exploded into another orgasm and I felt her sphincter muscles clamp down on my hard Uncut Hindu Cock and squeeze me, milking my Uncut Hindu Cock.
I let fly with my Hindu cum blasting it into Zubaydah Bābar’s colon with a series of grunts.
I held my position there as my Uncut Hindu Cock slowly somewhat deflated and finally slid out of her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān bunghole followed by a steady stream of my Hindu cum.
“So, ’were having me shoot my Hindu cum up your Musalmān ass, as good as you imagined?” I asked Zubaydah Bābar as we lay on the bed.
“Oh yeah.” Was all the answer I got and I and Nishāt Nazli both laughed at the contented and well fucked sound of her voice.
The three of us lay there for a while before I said I was going to get a shower and asked if anyone wanted to join me.
Both Panjvaqtah Namāzī extremely beautiful Musalmān girls volunteered and we each moved into the bathroom to get cleaned up.
Zubaydah Bābar moved to use the toilet and I stopped her and with my head motioned toward Nishāt Nazli with my head.
Zubaydah Bābar smiled and nodded as the three of us got into the walk-in shower.
The water was hot and felt good.
I reached for the soap and as I picked it up it slipped from my grasp.
Since Zubaydah Bābar figured out what I was up to, she let Nishāt Nazli bend to pick it up and just as she did, I let go of the stream of my piss I was holding in and blasted it into Nishāt Nazli’s extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Pākistānī Sunnī Musalmān mouth.
Nishāt Nazli was caught by surprise.
Yet she instantly fell into the role and sat on the floor as I directed my stream of piss into her awfully stunning immensely pretty, immensely smart, Panjvaqtah Namāzī Pakistani Musalmān mouth.
As I finished Zubaydah Bābar swung her Musalmān leg over her friend, half squatted above her and helped fulfilling her friend’s fetish.
As Zubaydah Bābar finished Nishāt Nazli sat on the floor with a smile and began to giggle.
“That surprised me, but thanks.” She offered as she stood up.
We washed each other, joked, teased, and tickled for a while as we showered and dried off.
Then we moved to the kitchen and started taking breakfast.
While we were making coffee, the phone rang.
I answered it and talked for a few minutes before hanging up.
“That was Nasīm Muåāwiyah/Al Ħamd Al Åbbās and Bābarah Åālamgīr,” I announced, “They got all of Nasīm Muåāwiyah/Al Ħamd Al Åbbās’s stuff yesterday and Bābarah Åālamgīr’s last night. It appears that her Ammī was royally pissed. They loaded everything up and started back last night, then got a motel room. They’ll be here sometime after lunch.
“So if either of you want my Uncut Hindu Lund again, you better hurry or you’ll have to wait until Nasīm Muåāwiyah/Al Ħamd Al Åbbās’s done with me.” I quipped.
Both Panjvaqtah Namāzī extremely beautiful Musalmān girls groaned.
“I would love to fuck you again but I need to recover first.” Zubaydah Bābar offered.
“Me too,” Nishāt Nazli chimed in. “I have got to find out how Nasīm Muåāwiyah/Al Ħamd Al Åbbās handles you.”
I just laughed as I poured them coffees.
We ate and the Panjvaqtah Namāzī extremely beautiful Musalmān girls put their bikini on for some beach time.
They left me to myself for the morning.
I had some errands to run and wanted to pick up a few things if the other two Panjvaqtah Namāzī extremely beautiful Musalmān girls were going to be living with me.
I knew I would have to make some adjustments in my household.
Little things like soap and shampoo as well as sheets and towels.
I had enough for guests but if I was to have permanent company, changes had to be made.*
It was longer getting things done than I anticipated and it was after two, before I got home.
I found that while I was gone Nasīm Muåāwiyah/Al Ħamd Al Åbbās and Bābarah Åālamgīr had returned, unloaded the truck stacking everything in the garage, and returned the truck to the rental, then came back home with Nasīm Muåāwiyah/Al Ħamd Al Åbbās’s new car.
Both Panjvaqtah Namāzī extremely beautiful Musalmān girls were sitting on the deck waiting for me to return.
“Well, how did it go?” I asked as I joined them on the deck.
Nasīm Muåāwiyah/Al Ħamd Al Åbbās answered first,
“It was Ok. We made good time, got my stuff loaded and we had lunch with my Ammī. Then we left.”
Bābarah Åālamgīr picked up the narrative,
“We got to the old homestead around Dinner and tried to take Ammī and Abbū out for dinner but Ammī started preaching at me and quoting scripture. Ammī was telling me how ungrateful I was and how evil and sinful you were, you know, same old shit. I just got pissed and loaded everything up and split. We drove a couple of hours and stopped for the night. It was a bummer!”
“I’m sorry honey. It should have been an exciting and happy time for you.” I offered.
“That’s Ok Durgesh. I knew it was going to be a problem so now it’s done with and we can relax. We left everything in the garage because we weren’t sure where to put our stuff, I mean where we were all going to sleep… how the arrangements would work out.” Bābarah Åālamgīr smiled.
I too smiled at her discomfort.
“Well, that’s kind of up to you two. If you each want to claim a room on the second floor and move in, that’s Ok with me.”
As I said I could see the crestfallen look on Nasīm Muåāwiyah/Al Ħamd Al Åbbās’s face, then I continued,
“But I did clean out some drawer space in my room in case I got lucky and Nasīm Muåāwiyah/Al Ħamd Al Åbbās decided to move in with me.”
I saw her brighten immediately.
“But I do think each of us should have a room to themselves like an office area or call it an ‘I want to be alone room’. I have my office and I was thinking about taking the other first floor bedroom and splitting it in half to make two more rooms for you girls. How does that sound?”
Nasīm Muåāwiyah/Al Ħamd Al Åbbās was so happy she bubbled, “I’ll move in with you and I don’t need an office.”
Bābarah Åālamgīr smiled at her friend.
“I think that will work. I expect that once we start work we will need a place to correct papers and stuff.I’ll just move my stuff into my room. I’ll probably get more sleep on the second floor anyway, the way Nasīm Muåāwiyah/Al Ħamd Al Åbbās screams when she cums, we may need to look into soundproofing.”
Nasīm Muåāwiyah/Al Ħamd Al Åbbās looked unsuitably embarrassed, but she faced me boldly immediately,
“I can’t help it if I enjoy myself. Moreover, my Hindu Kħasam, I’m not even a bit ashamed of it. You allow your nudist feminist Musalmān live in relationship partners Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, Nafīsah Salmān, Kħadījah Muħammad etcetera to do what they want to do entirely unashamed of themselves. Why not me too?”
Bābarah Åālamgīr smiled at her.
“That’s Ok you just keep enjoying yourself. I’m glad Durgesh makes you that happy.”
Bābarah Åālamgīr stood and hugged her friend Nasīm Muåāwiyah/Al Ħamd Al Åbbās.
We sat there and continued to talk for a while when Zubaydah Bābar and Nishāt Nazli returned, coming up the steps giggling like teenagers.
“We’ve been invited to a party tonight, all of us. We met some girls down at the beach. They tried to pick us up. We told them we were in Qāid-e-Åāzam University Islamabad yet and that we had two sisters. Therefore, they invited all of us. They think I’m 17 and Nishāt Nazli is 14. Bābarah Åālamgīr you’re 16 and Nasīm Muåāwiyah/Al Ħamd Al Åbbās is 15.” Zubaydah Bābar announced. “We told them that we’d have to ask Durgesh first and we said we should just sneak out. We’re all just graduated from Qāid-e-Åāzam University Islamabad and are looking to get laid. So we were teasing them.”
“Oh you Panjvaqtah Namāzī extremely beautiful Musalmān girls are evil. Those poor girls will never know what hit them. Maybe I should wait a while and then go banging on the door looking for Jamīlah Aurangzeb’s daughter, Bābarah Åālamgīr.”
We all started to laugh at the thought of that.
Then Nishāt Nazli said,
“We thought we could go and play with them a little. Then see if it was worth staying.”
Neither Nasīm Muåāwiyah/Al Ħamd Al Åbbās nor Bābarah Åālamgīr was too interested in going.
But Nishāt Nazli and Zubaydah Bābar convinced them to go for a little while and then they could leave if they weren’t having fun.
So both agreed to go and help their friends with the illusion.
We spent the rest of the afternoon settling Nasīm Muåāwiyah/Al Ħamd Al Åbbās and Bābarah Åālamgīr in and getting things organized before we made a dinner of hamburgers and hotdogs on the grill.
Then at 9PM, all four Panjvaqtah Namāzī extremely beautiful Musalmān girls “snuck” out to go to the party.
Nasīm Muåāwiyah/Al Ħamd Al Åbbās and Bābarah Åālamgīr were back in an hour or so.
Both were tired from the moving and really didn’t want to go in the first place.
For her part, Nasīm Muåāwiyah/Al Ħamd Al Åbbās was anxious to crawl into bed with me for her first official night of “living with me” as she considered it.
Bābarah Åālamgīr was just anxious to try to get me into her bed and wanted to be close to me, just in case I decided finally to take her.
Once the Panjvaqtah Namāzī extremely beautiful Musalmān girls got back I relaxed a little, I did not want to say anything but was a little angry at Nasīm Muåāwiyah/Al Ħamd Al Åbbās going to a party with young girls and I admitted to myself that I was angry with Bābarah Åālamgīr going too.
I admitted to myself that I wanted to bed Jamīlah Aurangzeb’s daughter, Bābarah Åālamgīr, but still had not really come to terms with the idea of it.
The three of us sat around and talked for a while before Nasīm Muåāwiyah/Al Ħamd Al Åbbās went off to bed to wait for me.
Once alone again, Hindu Father and Musalmān Daughter shared some time together.
“I’m really glad to be moving in and starting out here. Thanks for having me, Durgesh.” Bābarah Åālamgīr offered.
“I’m glad you’re here Honey. I really missed you.” then I leaned over and hugged her tightly.
As I released her, she leaned in to kiss me, softly and longingly on the lips.
I let her kiss me and I even did not pull away when Bābarah Åālamgīr let her immensely smart, Panjvaqtah Namāzī Pakistani Musalmān tongue slide out and caress my lips.
But I did not open my mouth and Bābarah Åālamgīr knew that that meant I wasn’t ready yet, but I was getting there.
Bābarah Åālamgīr smiled as she broke away and said good night, heading for her own room.
As she lay in her bed alone Bābarah Åālamgīr considered returning to the party, but then decided against it, deciding instead to wait for me.
Bābarah Åālamgīr did not sleep well that night.
She kept waking up and rolling around.
The fire between her Musalmān legs would not go away.
Twice she tried to quench it by herself and even after fingering herself to two orgasms, Bābarah Åālamgīr still could not sleep.
Finally, she gave up and got up.
It was 4:30 in the morning.
Yet she was wide-awake and horny as hell.
How immensely Bābarah Åālamgīr needed my utmost experienced Uncut Hindu Lund inside her young tight Panjvaqtah Namāzī Pakistani Sunni Musalmān Choot !
She peeked into the other rooms and found both Zubaydah Bābar and Nishāt Nazli asleep and both with satisfied looks on their faces.
“Well, apparently everyone got laid tonight except me. He is mine yet myself not enjoying his legendary unique Uncut Hindu Lund. Hell.” Bābarah Åālamgīr mumbled to herself as she climbed the stairs to the third floor.
A glass of drink was on her mind.
She poured herself a glass and not wanting to wake me or Nasīm Muåāwiyah/Al Ħamd Al Åbbās, she quietly slipped out of the sliding glass door and went onto the deck.
At another time of the day, Bābarah Åālamgīr might have caused a stir with the neighbors, as she had not bothered to put anything on when she got up.
However, at this time of night, or morning it was still dark and no one was up that had any sense anyway.
Consequently, she sat completely naked on one of the lounge chairs on the upper deck and began to enjoy the warm breeze blowing over her naked female Musalmān form.
Soon Bābarah Åālamgīr felt the familiar stirrings in her loins as the warm air was blowing across her extremely striking Panjvaqtah Namāzī female Musalmān body.
It reminded Bābarah Åālamgīr that she was sitting outdoors naked.
Without thinking, her hand moved to her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Choot and she let her fingers slide between her quivering crimson Musalmān lips.
The heat and moisture there was intense.
Bābarah Åālamgīr glanced down at the floor and giggled when she noticed that she had actually dripped a small puddle onto the deck.
Well, she intended to add more to it and in Moments, her right hand was busy with three fingers buried in her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Choot while her thumb massaged her clit.
Her left hand was busy also, rubbing her Musalmān tits and stopping to tweak her nipples.
Shortly she felt the familiar waves of orgasm begin to build and then wash over her as she let loose a small stream of juice from her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Choot and it added to the puddle on the floor.
As her ecstasy subsided, Bābarah Åālamgīr relaxed and blew out a sigh of relief.
Then for some unknown reason she looked to her left and she saw me sitting there.
I was sitting in a similar lounge and watching her.
She felt waves of embarrassment and panic was over her.
“Allah, Yā Allaaaaah! Oh my God. I just sat here fingering myself and my father saw me.” Flashed through her mind.
Followed a split second later by.
“My father just watched me playing with myself. I wonder if it made him horny.”
I knew she saw me.
I had been sitting there when she walked out onto the deck.
I was going to say something but for some reason I just didn’t.
Then as I watched Jamīlah Aurangzeb’s daughter, Bābarah Åālamgīr, sitting there in silhouette, naked on my deck I felt myself start to harden.
The light was not good.
Just the starlight and the ambient light, was drifting in, from surrounding houses and streets.
But it was enough to make out the swell of her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān breasts and the curve of her Musalmān legs.
Then she started to play with herself.
‘I wonder if she knows I’m here.’ I thought to myself. ‘It might be something she would do to try to entice me.’
But the more I watched the more sure I was that Bābarah Åālamgīr was unaware of me.
Then I watched as she diddled herself into an orgasm and as her Pakistani Musalmān juices dribbled down onto the deck boards.
I became more and more serious watching Bābarah Åālamgīr doing that.
Why the hell I’m not fucking Bābarah Åālamgīr?
She needs me inside her very much intensely.
What the hell I’m waiting for?
If I can have Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan as my live in relationship partner, why can’t I have Bābarah Åālamgīr too?
Why the hell Bābarah Åālamgīr is getting punishment instead of reward?
By this time, I had my Uncut Hindu Cock in my hand, inadvertently, and I was slowly stroking myself.
Once she came and let out her post orgasmic sigh.
I stopped and let go of myself.
Not that my hard on went away or anything.
That was when Bābarah Åālamgīr turned and saw me.
I saw the flash of embarrassment on her awfully stunning immensely pretty, immensely smart, Panjvaqtah Namāzī Pakistani Musalmān face, then the flash of wanton desire.
I decided to take the bull by the horns.
“Hi honey. Looks like you couldn’t sleep either.”*
Bābarah Åālamgīr looked at me and noticed my hard on.
Bābarah Åālamgīr chuckled triumphantly, gloriously, jubilantly and proudly.
I was sitting there as naked as she was.
“Sitting around outside naked must run in the family.” Bābarah Åālamgīr laughed sarcastically.
Then she answered me.
“Yeah, I thought I was tired but all I did was doze off a little and roll around a lot. I finally came up for a glass of drink, and to sit here a bit. What about you? Nasīm Muåāwiyah/Al Ħamd Al Åbbās kicked you out of bed?”
“I woke up a little bit ago and I did not want to wake Nasīm Muåāwiyah/Al Ħamd Al Åbbās, so I came out here. I do it every once in a while. Just sit here and watch the sun come up. See how the horizon is starting to get a pink band on it. It won’t be long now. It can be beautiful.” I said. “Want to watch with me?”
She glanced to the East and noticed that the sky was starting to lighten.
“Ok, I never really paid attention to sunrises. Probably because I am usually asleep when they happen.” She offered.
Bābarah Åālamgīr stood in nude and walked over to my lounge.
She sat down on the lower section and I moved my legs to make room for her.
Then with a swift movement, Bābarah Åālamgīr slid onto the lounge and lay back on top of me.
I was stunned by the suddenness and the intimacy of her movement.
I found myself lying on a lounge naked with my equally naked Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān stepdaughter on top of me and nestled against me.
I could feel my hard Uncut Hindu Lund pressing against her extremely beautiful Musalmān ass cheeks as she laid her head on my chest and began to talk to me.
In a way it was very familiar and comfortable, Jamīlah Aurangzeb’s little Panjvaqtah Namāzī extremely beautiful Musalmān girl sitting in my lap and telling me about her day.
Yet at the same time it was extremely sensual because now Jamīlah Aurangzeb’s little Panjvaqtah Namāzī extremely beautiful Musalmān girl was a beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān young woman, whom I had just watched as she played with her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Choot until she dribbled cum all over my deck.
I mentally shook myself, and realized that Bābarah Åālamgīr was talking to me about how she and Nasīm Muåāwiyah/Al Ħamd Al Åbbās living with me, was going to be a change for all of us.
I found myself answering,
“Oh we’ll manage alright. I like the idea of having two beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī young Musalmān women sharing my house and I admit that having a 28/29 year old in my bed regular is doing great things for my ego and youth.”
Bābarah Åālamgīr laughed out loud.
“I don’t think having a young thing in your bed is all that foreign to you lately and as for your ego, I doubt it needed the boost.”
As she said it, Bābarah Åālamgīr picked herself up a bit and slid farther up on me, then continued, “Besides I get the feeling that Nasīm Muåāwiyah/Al Ħamd Al Åbbās is becoming more to you than another piece of young Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān ass.”
Now at least my Uncut Hindu Cock wasn’t nestled in the crack of Jamīlah Aurangzeb’s daughter, Bābarah Åālamgīr’s ass.
Since she moved up, it was now sticking up between her Musalmān legs and lying against her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Choot lips.
I could feel her heat and moisture on my Uncut Hindu Cock.
I was torn between what I knew I wanted, to slide myself into her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Choot and fuck her, and what I knew I should do, get up and move away from her.
In the end, I did nothing.
It was, depending on your perspective, may have been worse or better.
Because I knew that every second I spent there, with my Uncut Hindu Cock knocking against the spread young adult Musalmān lips of Jamīlah Aurangzeb’s little Panjvaqtah Namāzī extremely beautiful Musalmān girl’s Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Choot, my will power eroded just a little bit.
Part of me was hoping, Jamīlah Aurangzeb’s daughter, Bābarah Åālamgīr, would grasp my rock hard Uncut Hindu member and stuff it into her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Choot.
At least that would end my battle with myself. But the other part of me, the dutiful father, kept screaming at me that it was a pervert thought.
I paused to gather my thoughts for a Moment.
“Ok I admit you’re right. I do like her. She is sweet and treats me like a king and she pays attention to me, as nobody has in years. But most importantly, she doesn’t want anything from me but me. You can’t imagine what a relief that is after fighting off the “please take care of me” crowd.”
We sat like that mostly in silence watching the sky lightens as dawn approached.
Both pretending to ignore the position our bodies were in, but each of us was acutely aware of the touch of our sex.
Bābarah Åālamgīr was not ignoring it for her part.
She kept flexing her thigh muscles and her abdominal muscles, anything to get my Uncut Hindu Cock to move in contact with her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Choot.
Her efforts were rewarded because before long My Uncut Hindu Lund began to twitch on its own.
It was driving Bābarah Åālamgīr crazy to be this close to her goal and still have to act nonchalant, instead of doing what she wanted and grabbing my monster Uncut Hindu Cock and stuffing it into her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Choot where, as far as she was concerned it belonged to actually.
Yes, her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Choot is the actual permanent home of my Uncut Hindu Lund.
Why don’t you understand Durgesh, Mérī Jān?
Bābarah Åālamgīr could not help but to think that all she had to do was move just right and I would be inside her.
The only thing that kept her from doing it was the certainty that although I would not stop her and at this point would probably welcome it, I would never be willing again.
I would always have my guard up and without question, I would never treat her the same, certainly not as the lover she longed to be.
After a few minutes, Bābarah Åālamgīr turned and gave me a kiss.
It was a loving and longing kiss.
As she pulled away, she told me once again, “I love you Durgesh, Durgesh darling, méré Hindu Piyā, Hindu Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt, hum Musalmān ħasīnāon ké Hindu Kħasam, Hindu husband of us Musalmān Beauties! very much.”
I was caught off guard by the kiss and the tenderness behind it.
I was busy concentrating on my Uncut Hindu Lund and on trying not to betray my longings for Bābarah Åālamgīr.
I could feel her Pakistani Musalmān juices running down my Hindu shaft and onto my Hindu balls.
It was obvious that this intimate contact excited her and the fact that my Hindu erection had not gone down betrayed the fact that it excited me too.
Then Bābarah Åālamgīr smiled at me and nestled down onto my shoulder again.
“I also happen to know that Nasīm Muåāwiyah/Al Ħamd Al Åbbās loves you. So you better be in it for the long haul because she is nothing if not tenacious. There is no way she is letting go of you unless you chase her off.”
That statement brought my thoughts around to reality again.
“I can’t see myself chasing her off. I am getting really fond of her.”
“Are you going to get me a new Ammī?” Bābarah Åālamgīr teased in a little Panjvaqtah Namāzī extremely beautiful Musalmān girl voice.
“I don’t know, maybe. Time will tell.”
Bābarah Åālamgīr was stunned by my answer.
Even though she had teased me and Nasīm Muåāwiyah/Al Ħamd Al Åbbās both, she did not really believe anything permanent would come from this affair, but it appeared that I at least was looking into the future and considering it.
“Besides,” I continued, “we need to find someone to get you to wear clothes.” In addition, as I said it she jerked her hips a little and pushed the shaft of my Uncut Hindu Cock harder against her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Choot.
Hard enough that it made contact with her ravenous Musalmān clit.
Bābarah Åālamgīr suddenly realized that her smart action had suddenly won me for her involuntarily and without giving me a chance even to safeguard myself.
My Uncut Hindu Lund glided and entered her ravenous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Pakistani Sunni Musalmān Choot leisurely, sluggishly.
Her immensely ravenous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Pakistani Sunni Musalmān Choot greeted my Uncut Hindu Lund wildly and engulfed it greedily.
She found me startled and dumbfounded.
Bābarah Åālamgīr immediately took the advantage of the situation.
Finding me absolutely incapable to resist, Bābarah Åālamgīr positioned herself and managed to get my entire Uncut Hindu Lund vanished into her Panjvaqtah Namāzī young adult Pakistani Sunni Musalmān Choot .
She held me strongly, made me lie on my back, straddled me deliberately and started fucking me ravenously, wildly and savagely.
I was as if in trance.
I felt as if Jamīlah Aurangzeb was fucking me, not Bābarah Åālamgīr.
They were identical exactly.
Bābarah Åālamgīr deliberately took its advantage again.
She kissed me fiercely on my lips and increased her pace more and more.
Bābarah Åālamgīr didn’t know she was fucking me exactly identically as her Ammī, Jamīlah Aurangzeb, fucked me.
It wasn’t deliberate.
It was genetic instead.
Yet, it increased my trance more and more.
I felt young Jamīlah Aurangzeb was fucking me wildly.
It was natural for me, in trance, that I started responding Bābarah Åālamgīr vehemently.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
It was almost five minutes before Al Kubrah Al Qāsim returned.
Her manner was apologetic.
“Now,” she said, “there are complications.”
“Chachājān, Al Nadīm Al Quddūs, was delayed in town. He’s on his way out here now. I got Abbū on the phone and told him I’d leave the papers. Unfortunately, Abbū says I’ll have to wait for Chachājān, Al Nadīm Al Quddūs. He…”
She couldn’t even finish her sentence.
A car was coming there.
“Here he comes.” Al Kubrah Al Qāsim said, “That’s my Chachājān, Al Nadīm Al Quddūs’s car.”
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs stopped his car and jumped out.
“Well, well, well,” he smiled at both of us, especially at Al Kubrah Al Qāsim, “you are already here? But still you are late.”
“Late?” Al Kubrah Al Qāsim looked at him surprised.
“Sure, Al Muħammad Al Qāsim has gone already.”
“Certainly.” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs confirmed what he had said, “The conference started on even before the pre scheduled time. Al Muħammad Al Qāsim phoned Bahū Begum,Al Nāsirah Al Karīm, and my wife, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus, about eight saying he would be home around eleven or eleven thirty. Then he left us about nine o’clock stating that he was driving back to his home at Ved Nagar. He wanted to be home by eleven.”
“You didn’t go with him?” Al Kubrah Al Qāsim asked.
“No, he wanted us to discuss some business matters more. He wanted us to reach a consensus in them. He instructed me especially to see to it. After he left, I paced the floor idly for a couple of turns and wound up standing at the window looking down on the street.”
“Standing at the window? Looking down on the street, Chachājān?” Al Kubrah Al Qāsim said puzzled somewhat.
What a tragedy.
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs hated his own daughter, Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd, and loved Al Kubrah Al Qāsim, his younger brother’s, Al Muħammad Al Qāsim’s daughter, Al Kubrah Al Qāsim.
Al Kubrah Al Qāsim was the shrewdest of all the sisters and cousins.
Even Al Zakāt Al Qāsim was impressed very much by Al Kubrah Al Qāsim’s tremendous success with Al Muħammad Al Qāsim and Al Nadīm Al Quddūs too.
Both of them loved Al Kubrah Al Qāsim wildly.
Al Zakāt Al Qāsim could never understand how Al Kubrah Al Qāsim managed it.
We were now walking to the elevator.
“Sure,” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs said responding to his niece, “I even saw Al Muħammad Al Qāsim cross to the curb, stand a moment, and then walk diagonally across the street. He crossed the other sidewalk on a diagonal to the corner, and then walked around the corner. After that, I was unable to see your Abbū, Al Kubrah Al Qāsim. The building on the opposite corner obstructed his further view.”
We had dressed again before Al Nadīm Al Quddūs reached us.
He wasn’t quite used to the Chaturang Shāshvat Maithunyog atmosphere of Ved Nagar still now.
He still felt awkward to it.
Al Kubrah Al Qāsim insisted to keep fucking me, but I admonished her deliberately.
“Oh,” Al Kubrah Al Qāsim said, “you left the window, I think.”
“No, that’s the interesting incidence I wanted to tell both of you. I continued to stand at the window thinking of our industrial problems, inadvertently.”
“Oh, and what’s interesting in it?”
“Within a matter of seconds after my younger brother, your Abbū, Al Muħammad Al Qāsim, had started across the street, I saw the shadow of an extremely beautiful woman.”
“You saw the shadow of her, not herself?”
“Herself afterward, at first I saw her shadow only.”
“I see. Anything particular, if you noticed?”
“It was a very shapely shadow. I mean to say the shadow itself intrigued, fascinated, charmed, captivated me because it appeared to be cast by a young woman who was…well, shapely.”
We had come to the elevator.*
The elevator arrived.
We stepped inside.
To Al Nadīm Al Quddūs’s immense surprise, both his ever-cunning wife, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus, and his Bahū Begum, Al Nāsirah Al Karīm, were already in the elevator.
“Al Safiyah Al Ghaus, Bahū Begum, you are late.” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs was surprised pleasantly, “Al Muħammad Al Qāsim had told you…”
“Nothing.” Al Nāsirah Al Karīm said curtly.
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs felt hurt.
Al Nāsirah Al Karīm never respected her relationship with him.
She still believed Al Nadīm Al Quddūs was after her own trillions as well as after the billions of his younger brother and her husband, Al Muħammad Al Qāsim.
He opened his mouth to protest, but Al Nāsirah Al Karīm had already dismissed him.
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs controlled himself patiently.
What the use after all?
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus was so greedy openly that Al Nadīm Al Quddūs couldn’t make anyone believe he wasn’t greedy at all.
Al Kubrah Al Qāsim’s mind was racing.
If Al Muħammad Al Qāsim, her Abbū, really succeeded in his planning, what would happen?
Could she work out the things with Durgesh?
Would her other family members be prepared to listen to her?
Maybe…After all, she was an Al Qāsim.
Al Muħammad Al Qāsim, her Abbū, had himself chosen her his would be successor.
She had to solve the present dilemma.
Her other sisters didn’t have the proper guts.
Muħammad bin Qāsim was a clandestine gay.
He was unable to run, Al Qāsim Group of Companies.
He couldn’t run a single company, Al Qāsim Rolling, Casting and Engineering Company even.
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand had already taken charge.
In seven years, Al Kubrah Al Qāsim had achieved so very much.
It had not been easy.
Al Zakāt Al Qāsim was a great help.
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand also wanted to see her in charge of Al Qāsim Group of Companies.
He advised her to even to rape Durgesh, if the Hindu moralist didn’t buzz.
Only Durgesh could fulfil her dreams, Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand said.
Al Kubrah Al Qāsim frowned even more deeply.
He is now hers already.
He isn’t any problem.
He is obsessed to fuck Musalmān Beauties.
Any Musalmān Beauty can have Durgesh if she really surrendered to him.
Al Kubrah Al Qāsim was in control now.
Moreover, Al Kubrah Al Qāsim planned to stay in control.
Everyone in Al Qāsim family has to accept that fact.
Al Nāsirah Al Karīm and Al Safiyah Al Ghaus watched Al Kubrah Al Qāsim profoundly.
Yet neither of them made any eye contact with her.
Eye contact was always a mistake.
It led to mundane conversations like ‘Isn’t it hot today’ or ‘Nice weather we are having’.
Elevator conversations were a total waste of time.
Al Kubrah Al Qāsim took no further notice of them either.
She was thinking of the problems that lay ahead.
Suddenly, the elevator ground to a stop mid-floors, and the lights went out, plunging all of us into inky blackness.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus exclaimed.
“Allah, what the hell happened?”
“Generator gone out, I think.”
“But the lights on again.”
“Emergency lights, stupid.”
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus laughed.
“I am not stupid, neither my niece Al Kubrah Al Qāsim is. We both are black belt karate champions. She deliberately brought you here. Now, decide yourself who is stupid.”
“Al Safiyah Al Ghaus,” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs admonished his wife, “are you crazy? If Durgesh has come here, it’s never because Al Kubrah Al Qāsim brought him here. He came here on his own volition.”*
Al Islam Al Wahāb looked at Pandit Brahmdutt Paurāñic.
She remembered her days when Pandit Brahmdutt Paurāñic wasn’t Al Qāsim Al Åbdullah.
Her Bahū Begum, Al Nāsirah Al Karīm, said Al Islam Al Wahāb had done a great wrong to them by insisting that Pandit Brahmdutt Paurāñic should be converted to Islam before Al Islam Al Wahāb and Pandit Brahmdutt Paurāñic marry.
“Al Nāsirah Al Karīm is right.” Al Islam Al Wahāb’s second Bahū Begum, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus also said, “India is Hindu dominant country.”
Al Islam Al Wahāb watched both of her Bahū Begums bitterly.
“Brahmdutt was already married to the Hollywood heroine Della Kennedy. He couldn’t divorce her. She was heroine in several movies produced and directed by him.”
“Al Nadīm Al Quddūs Bhāījān and Al Muħammad Al Qāsim both are from Brahmdutt Abbū?” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus asked her mother in law.
“Of course, any objection?” Al Islam Al Wahāb said curtly.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus smiled at Al Nāsirah Al Karīm.
Al Nāsirah Al Karīm nodded.
“Ammī, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus thinks Al Nadīm Al Quddūs must return to his original religion.”
Al Islam Al Wahāb shouted.
“Brahmdév Sharmā uncle and Nāzimah Yåqūb auntie invited us yesterday in a party.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus said in her sweetest manner.
Al Islam Al Wahāb was immediately all alert.
She never found her Bahū Begum, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus, using her sweetest manner until and unless the subject under discussion did not relate to exorbitant money.
Al Quddūs Al Åālam, her first husband, was a millionaire himself.
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs was not Al Quddūs Al Åālam’s son exactly.
She was in his nikāħ, but Al Islam Al Wahāb had her extramarital affair with Pandit Brahmdutt Paurāñic even then.
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs was its natural result.
Al Quddūs Al Åālam knew it very well.
Even then, he acted immensely liberal to the entire situation.
“I know I’m dying, Al Islam Al Wahāb.” he said, “All my thirteen daughters from my previously divorced three wives, and the husbands of my daughters, have proved immensely incapable to run my business. I know, Al Nadīm Al Quddūs isn’t my son. Yet, he has given me more love, respect and loyalty than my own daughters gave me ever. You have been lenient enough till now not to tell Al Nadīm Al Quddūs he isn’t my son.”
“I’m sorry, Al Quddūs Al Åālam,” Al Islam Al Wahāb said patiently, “Brahmdutt couldn’t control himself and I couldn’t stop him. He just assaulted me, invaded me, in passion. Due to your long illness we hadn’t have sex for a long time. I surrendered to him in that wild animal moment.”
“It’s alright. It doesn’t make any difference now. I want to give my estate to Al Nadīm Al Quddūs. Would you and Pandit Brahmdutt Paurāñic be kind enough not to tell him he isn’t my son actually, till I die?”
Before Al Islam Al Wahāb could answer, Pandit Brahmdutt Paurāñic held Al Quddūs Al Åālam’s hand.
“Don’t worry. He was your son, and he’d remain so till you live.”
Al Islam Al Wahāb looked at Pandit Brahmdutt Paurāñic.
“It’s alright.” Pandit Brahmdutt Paurāñic circled her waist in his left arm, “He is dying. We can have more sons. He can’t.”
Al Quddūs Al Åālam suddenly found his eyes filled with tears of immense gratitude.
“Thank you very much, my friend. You’ve made my death easier now.”*
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan listened to Al Jamīlah Al Sultānova.
The Russian Musalmān Beauty had attracted her attention very much.
She looked at Kħadījah Muħammad.
“Well,” Kħadījah Muħammad said, “you understand ultramodern young Musalmān ladies more, Naåīmah. Durgesh, and I are somewhat older now in comparison to you. If not in our physical bodies, in our understanding of the ultramodern youth at least.”
“Nonsense, Bājī, I couldn’t have done anything at all if you and Saiyadah Fātimah PhD Bājī hadn’t supported me blindly and compelled Durgesh to do what I wanted him to do.”
Kħadījah Muħammad smiled.
“That’s all right. That’s all right. But you are forgetting you were doing what we ourselves wanted to, yet couldn’t.”
“Because we hadn’t any Saiyadah Fātimah PhD and Kħadījah Muħammad to support us. We hadn’t any Imām Muħammad Ħasan who had dreamed of to be Mustafā Kamāl Atāturk of entire Pseudo Islamic countries.”*
Al Nāsirah Al Karīm watched me, scrutinizing me thoughtfully.
She didn’t pay any attention to the fact that the elevator had stopped in the midway.
Her husband Al Muħammad Al Qāsim was planning something to get rid of his ever-greedy relatives, she knew.
He had consulted me in the matter.
I had already helped Al Muħammad Al Qāsim in the matters pertaining to his nudist feminist Musalmān Houseladies, successfully.
I had helped Al Nāsirah Al Karīm too in the matters pertaining to her problem child, Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim too.
She could never forget how I convinced Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim if she couldn’t live in relationship with me, she marry Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand.
“Fuck her yourself.” Al Nāsirah Al Karīm had said to me.’
“What?” I could not believe a mother could request me to fuck her daughter.
“If you don’t fuck Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim, she’d fuck Shankar Mahāpralayankar herself.”
“I don’t want her to have any relationship with Shankar Mahāpralayankar. Shankar Mahāpralayankar is an Underworld Don.”
“Well?” I smiled.
“Shankar Mahāpralayankar isn’t a problem to you because you can handle him successfully through several persons and means he cares for even more than his own life and the Organized Crime Empire he has established with the help of criminal politicians and industrialists all over the globe. I don’t want anything of him. Muħammad Ůsmān, my younger brother, and Muħammad bin Qāsim, my son, are already his patrons. That’s itself more than enough I can bear and handle.”
“Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim loves Shankar Mahāpralayankar?”
“Yes.” Al Nāsirah Al Karīm gritted her teeth, “I know Shankar Mahāpralayankar is the second choice of Musalmān Beauties nowadays, not the first one. You are the first choice they always dream of.”
“Tell me something more about your husband’s relatives,” I invited, “have you been fighting with them?”
“Not particularly. Pratāp Bachhalyā and Vikram Bachhalyā are not exactly my husband’s relatives only. They are my sons in law too. And actually I think they respect me more than they respect my husband even.”
“Because you are a trillionaire while your husband is only a billionaire?” I smiled.*
Al Nāsirah Al Karīm smiled.
“Well, money plays an important role in gaining respect too. I think you understand that far better than even I do.”
I smiled too.
“May I ask what did an extremely beautiful lady, as beautiful and as intelligent as you are, find in Al Muħammad Al Qāsim to marry him?”
Al Nāsirah Al Karīm smiled significantly.
“Well, he is too a billionaire at least.”
“But you are a trillionaire. You could have…”
“I couldn’t compromise with my freedom to take decisions, in any matter whatsoever. Al Muħammad Al Qāsim promised he would never interfere.”
“Means he wanted your trillions more than he wanted you?”
“Why should I worry the hell about it? I myself wanted only a nominal husband to show to my acquaintances. Didn’t I?” Al Nāsirah Al Karīm laughed, “In addition to that he was a billionaire himself too. It meant least demand of money from me than otherwise it would have been.”
I digested the information.
Now I understood why they both were not interested in each other mutually very much.
It wasn’t a marriage actually.
It was only a front they created to show their acquaintances.
Now I understood why Al Muħammad Al Qāsim didn’t object, even slightly, to my solution of his problems.*
I looked at Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd.
She was still looking at me every now and then somewhat stealthily.
“You have been away since, for several weeks?” I asked.
“Three months almost.” Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd tried to control herself.
Even then, she couldn’t hide her impishness emerging every now and then.
The ultramodern young Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān Beauty was not as grave in her nature as she was trying frantically to display herself.
Yes, Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd was sophisticated, PhD, and she knew the world around her quite well.
Yet, she wasn’t a grave young Musalmān lady despite her desperate efforts to display herself so.
She was a naughty young Musalmān lady, by nature, bubbling with immense mischievous youth even at her twenty- ninth.
Every now and then, Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd was looking between my legs impishly.
It was more than obvious that Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd was very pleased to find that she was successful in causing me erection for her.
She was proud of herself that her immense Musalmān beauty was causing it.
Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd had deliberately gone to a beauty parlour before coming to me.
I was surprised that Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd wasn’t in panic at all.
Neither she was worried to the extent she might have been under the similar circumstances some other normal Musalmān Beauty would have been.
Instead, she seemed to be quite confident and surprisingly in possession of her faculties.
I extended my hand.
“There was a check in the letter?”
Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd passed me a slip of paper.
“Here it is.” she said.
I looked at the check.
Suddenly I straightened.
Gravely I looked at the check again.
“Ten million dollars?” I inadvertently exclaimed.
Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd looked at me gravely.
“That’s what the check says.”
“I don’t know.”
“He doesn’t want you to have the money?”
“No, he wants you to take charge of the money for me.”
“You too want me to take charge of the money for you?”
“Why not? You claim to be sixty-three. I’m twenty-eight only. You have thirty five years more experiences of life and the world than I do.” Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd said gravely, “They can snatch away the money from me in some way, either this or that, but not from you. My money is in safer hands for me.”
“Quite obviously, quite evidently, there’s something bothering Al Muħammad Al Qāsim.”
“Let’s find out.” I said.
“Am I accepted?”
“To be your one more new live in relationship partner?” Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd asked gravely.
I watched her.
There wasn’t any faintest trace of impishness now in her any manner whatsoever.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
The train had come to a stop.
Doors glided open.
Porters stood helping passengers off the train.
Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd stood looking first to the left, then to the right.
A woman got off the train, stood looking around as though expecting to meet someone, started to walk toward the depot, paused, turned and walked toward Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd.
“Waħīdah!” the woman said.
“Why, Ammījān!” Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd exclaimed with entirely unanticipated extremely pleasant surprise. “Allah! Good heavens, I didn’t recognize you. Even your own daughter couldn’t recognize you! What have you done to yourself? Måshā Allah! Subħān Allah!”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and I exchanged glances.
“Allah Allah! Good Lord, Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd? Al Nadīm Al Quddūs’s first wife? I’ll be damned.”*
Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd smiled at her daughter.
“Hey, don’t tell me my new Hindu husband, my new Hindu Kħasam, didn’t tell you how miraculously he has transformed me.”
“Well, he told me,” Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd managed to control somewhat her still miraculously extremely pleasant surprise, “but I could never imagine… Ammījān, you look only my elder sister now. None can ever guess you are my real Ammī. It’s just a miracle, Ammī. You’ve really taken off weight.”
“Thirty five pounds.” Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd said, “I’m down to a hundred and twenty one and I’m going to stay that way. I’ve learned the hard way what happens to a woman when she lets her figure go.”
“Let Abbū see you and…”
Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd interrupted her daughter in the middle,
“Allah, Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd, don’t tell me you still care for that bastard. He divorced a Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān immensely faithful wife, for a hostess, for a shill who put on daringly cut evening gowns that were tight and clinging and circulated around the gambling tables here in Las Vegas, Nevada.”
Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd was immensely angry.
Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd could understand very well what her Ammī was suffering through mentally.
“That’s why I requested you to meet somewhere else. But you insisted.”
“I lost my husband here. I want to celebrate my new private life exactly here to wipe out my memories of nonstop mental torture. You perhaps don’t know the bastard is also coming here to request me not to allow you to live in relationship with Durgesh. Hahaha. A thoroughly immoral husband is impersonating a thoroughly moral father now.”
I entered the room Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and Al Safiyah Al Ghaus were waiting for me in.
It was mellow, rich, with subdued sunlight filtering through pearl gray drapes.
There was wall-to-wall oyster-shell-colored carpeting on the floor.
The chairs were deep and comfortable.
The whole room was esthetically decorated.
It gave the impression that it had been designed for living, rather than to conform, to imitate, to any particular style of interior decoration.
“Beautifully decorated.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus said as I entered there.
“Thank you.” I smiled, “But the credit goes to your friend Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, not to me.”
“I don’t think Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and you are two different persons.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus cooed.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan laughed.
“Thank you, Al Safiyah.”
“I’m sorry that you two, Al Muħammad Al Qāsim and you, have differences of opinions.”
“Don’t be so modest ever.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan said furiously, “Your ‘father in law’ has clearly accused Al Safiyah Al Ghaus that she has murdered her previous husband.”
“It was his opinion, darling, not mine. How can I answer for him?”
“I think I need to talk with Al Zakāt Al Qāsim about it.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan watched me significantly.
“The question is why did your friend break Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd’s home?”
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus watched me suggestively.
“Al Nadīm Al Quddūs went to me in Las Vegas, Nevada. I didn’t go to him.” she said somewhat acidly, “moreover, the life I was living wasn’t a dignified life. It was my compulsion, not my choice. Why the hell I shouldn’t grab an opportunity to lead a respectful life with a millionaire if I could?”
“Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd should herself blame for what happened.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan said curtly, “How the hell she thought Al Nadīm Al Quddūs woud not react to as a dazzling Musalmān Beauty as Al Safiyah Al Ghaus? How did Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd forget she was herself a dazzling Musalmān Beauty when Al Nadīm Al Quddūs married her? It’s a world of bitter competition. Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd should have maintained her beauty herself. Why the hell did she forget to watch her married life to be safe if she could?”*
I smiled at Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan ironically.
“You mean every Musalmān Beauty is justified in breaking the other Musalmān Beauty’s home, if she is leading the hard and degrading life as Al Safiyah Al Ghaus did?”
“Al Safiyah Al Ghaus could do it because Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd lost her interest in keeping her Musalmān husband properly.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan said curtly, “Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd took her husband for granted to be devoted to her only because he was married to her. Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd stopped watching her own figure despite knowing very well the polygamous nature of a man. It was her own mistake and she paid for it.”
“You haven’t any sympathy for Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd?”
“I have more sympathy for Al Safiyah Al Ghaus.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan said tersely.
“Because Al Safiyah Al Ghaus was suffering more in Las Vegas, Nevada?”
“Because Al Safiyah Al Ghaus was suffering more in Las Vegas, Nevada.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan repeated despite my smirk, “Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd was already a honorable housewife. Al Safiyah Al Ghaus was not. It was natural for Al Safiyah Al Ghaus that she tried to improve her personal life.”
“And Al Nadīm Al Quddūs was the only man available to Al Safiyah Al Ghaus?” I kept smirking.*
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled curtly.
“Al Nadīm Al Quddūs was the immediate man available. Al Safiyah Al Ghaus didn’t love him. He was the only immediate man available to her who could help her for getting rid off that rather undignified life she was compelled to lead.”
I watched Al Safiyah Al Ghaus.
Al Muħammad Al Qāsim suspected I was fucking her.
I didn’t contradict him.
It was useless.
The reputation Dr. Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ, Åāýéshah Siddīqah, Kħadījah Muħammad, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and her now famous/infamous seven movements: Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club, Cuckold Your Musalmān husband, Ashvinātam Gangbang Club, Al Jihād fil Durgesh fī sabīlillāh, Jet Musalmān Beauties Squad, Durgesh Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ Sex Therapy and Durgesh Åāýéshah Siddīqah Social Service, had built up for me, never allowed anyone to believe ever that, a Musalmān Beauty was available to me and I never fucked her.*
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus awoke in her luxurious Ved Nagar mansion.
She pressed a button to open the electrically controlled drapes.
She was confronted by the side of a young man.
Vikram Bachhalyā was clad in a white T-shirt and exquisite jeans.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus struggled to sit up, buzzing for Musarrat Kħālid, her secretary.
At the same time Al Safiyah Al Ghaus was flinging on a marabou trimmed silk robe and pressing her feet into dusty pink mules.
Vikram Bachhalyā stretched himself and strolled casually out of view.
“Musarrat Kħālid,” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus called, “where the hell are you?”
Musarrat Kħālid appeared, inscrutable, calm and anxious to her mistress’s calls.
She appreciated Al Safiyah Al Ghaus.
Most of the Ved Nagar film industry wives screamed at their secretaries.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus never did it.
She was always sophisticated.
What a pleasant exception Al Safiyah Al Ghaus was to the other Ved Nagar film industry wives.
The same Hollywood wives were there.
The same Bollywood wives were there.
The same Lollywood wives were there.
The same Tollywood wives were there.
Yet, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus was quite different with them.
“There was Vikram Bachhalyā out by the pool. I wonder what the Al Zakiyah Al Qāsim’s Hindu husband was doing there. A Bachhalyā rarely loves a Musalmān Beauty. All the Bachhalyās are crazily obsessed with the Brāhmañ Beauties. You know that, Musarrat Kħālid, don’t you?”
Musarrat Kħālid smiled patiently,
“Durgesh is also a Bachhalyā, ma’am.”
“There are exceptions too, to every general attitude we notice about others.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus smiled patiently too, “Don’t you think so?”
“That’s good. Make sure all the doors are locked.”
Musarrat Kħālid nodded,
She began to collect debris of clutter from Al Safiyah Al Ghaus’s bedside table. Dirty Kleenex, a half finished glass of wine, a rifled box of chocolates.
“Musarrat,” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus addressed her again.
“Don’t get excited, Señora.” Musarrat Kħālid said stoically, “Al Zakiyah Al Qāsim ma’am is not feeling good. She requested Vikram Bachhalyā, her husband…”
Musarrat Kħālid even couldn’t complete her sentence.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me that before?” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus scolded Musarrat Kħālid and flung herself into her bathroom.
She slammed the door so hard that a framed print sprang off the wall and crashed to the floor.
Dumb ass woman.
It was impossible to get good help anymore.
They came. They went.
They did not give a damn even if you were raped and ravaged in your own home.
And this would have to happen while Al Nadīm Al Quddūs was away on location.
Al Zakiyah Al Qāsim would never have dared to pretend to be sick if Al Nadīm Al Quddūs was here.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus flung off her robe, slipped out of her nightgown, and stepped under the invigorating sharpness of an ice cold shower.
She gritted her teeth.
Cold shower was best for the skin.
It tightened everything up.
Allah målūm, God knows, even with the gym and yoga and the modern dance class it still all needed tightening.
No, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus wasn’t fat even a bit.
She knew very well how incredibly beautiful she was.
People were either jealous or crazy of her incredible Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Beauty.
She was aware of it.
She knew it was her greatest weapon in this damn male dominated world.
Her brother in law, her dévar, Al Muħammad Al Qāsim, hated the ground Al Safiyah Al Ghaus walked on, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus knew.
But what can the damn fool do?
He is claiming now Al Safiyah Al Ghaus has murdered her former husband.
But can the moron explain why the hell she worked as a hostess before marrying Al Nadīm Al Quddūs?
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus smiled.
She wasn’t born yesterday.
Al Muħammad Al Qāsim still has a long way to understand what Al Safiyah Al Ghaus really was.
The life had taught her more than it taught Al Muħammad Al Qāsim.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus smiled shrewdly.
She lived now in a six bedroomed, seven bathroomed, Ved Nagar Film Industry palace.
On the flats too.
Not stuck up in the hills.
On the flats.
Prime real Estate.
Her extraordinary devastating Musalmān beauty is perfectly being taken care of.
Her hair was a rich brown, cut short and tipped with golden streaks.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus’s Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān skin was alabaster white and smooth.
Thanks to regular facials.
Her teeth were white and even.
She was prudent enough never to stop reading and learning.
Most of the Ved Nagar film industry wives criticize Al Safiyah Al Ghaus that she reads so much.
They didn’t understand its benefits.
Moreover, the proud Musalmān Beauties neither wanted to read and keep on improving themselves as Al Safiyah Al Ghaus did without failure nonstop.
Most of the Ved Nagar film industry wives used to read Hollywood stuff only.
‘Vogue’, ‘People’, ‘Us’.
They skimmed the trades, ‘Variety’ and ‘Hollywood Reporter’.
Wasn’t Ronald Regan elected the President?
If they can do it, why the hell can’t Al Nadīm Al Quddūs even?
Yes, he isn’t a star as Ronald Regan.
But he is a first class screenplay writer.
He can dream wonderfully.
He was one of the best dreamers in Ved Nagar Film Industry, Hollywood, Bollywood, Lollywood and Tollywood.
His screenplays were always stupendous hits.
After Salim Javed Al Nadīm Al Quddūs has also made a writer a star.*
Despite frantic and desperate attempts from Al Muħammad Al Qāsim, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus knew how obsessed Al Nadīm Al Quddūs was with her.
He deliberately chose to marry a gambling house hostess, a shill, from Las Vegas, Nevada.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus knew it was the only place she could impress the then successful screenplay writer of Ved Nagar Film Industry.
He could be a stepladder for her to fulfill her dreams.
She could easily make it with a dreamer.
The realists were not for her.
They love money/ career/life more than they love anything else.
Durgesh is a realist.
Yes, he is a dreamer too.
But he is a realist dreamer.
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs wasn’t a realist at all.
He was only a dreamer.
He could be a stepladder for her.
He has his own mission.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus has her own mission.
Durgesh could help her in her mission, but not as a stepladder.
Durgesh is too prudent, too realistic.
It was a big mansion, Al Lubnā Al Qāsim lived in with her Bachhalyā Hindu husband, Pratāp Bachhalyā.
The house was one of the show places of Ved Nagar.
It had side porches, spacious grounds, shade trees, lawns, summerhouses, terraces, winding walks and swimming pools.
It was a vast exquisite dwelling.
It showed, rather exhibited, the multi millions Pratāp Bachhalyā and his extremely beautiful wife, Al Lubnā Al Qāsim, possessed.
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī turned my limousine in at the driveway.
Together with the big garage, the driveway was itself magnificent.
The hard surfaced driveway cut through in a businesslike straight line past the winding walks that followed the contours of the terraced grounds.
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī, the ambitious sister of Al Muħammad Al Qāsim, now a successful lawyer herself, stopped my limousine.
She rang the bell second time before we heard confident steps, knees, elbows and palms, and then the door was opened by extremely beautiful Al Lubnā Al Qāsim and Pratāp Bachhalyā themselves.
Al Lubnā Al Qāsim smiled at her elder sister.
She was their lawyer despite she was an integral part of HVS Law Internationals now.
The Al Qāsims still had their faith in their own blood?
I didn’t know.
Al Lubnā Al Qāsim was similarly on her knees and elbows as her elder sister, Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī, was.
Pratāp Bachhalyā was fucking Al Lubnā Al Qāsim from her gorgeous behind as I was fucking Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī.
It was Ved Nagar.
Nonstop sophisticated fucking was entirely legal and normal here.
It was in India, but it was a largely privileged Global City, rather Inter Universal to be more correct and more specific.
“Welcome,” Pratāp Bachhalyā and Al Lubnā Al Qāsim smiled, “Come in, please.”
“Bhābhījān, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus, Al Nadīm Al Quddūs Bhāījān, Al Zakiyah Al Qāsim and Vikram Bachhalyā…”
Al Lubnā Al Qāsim interrupted Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī in her mid sentence.
“They all have already come. You are rather late.”*
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī and I followed Al Lubnā Al Qāsim and Pratāp Bachhalyā.
The room we entered in, was thoroughly in keeping with the rest of the house.
It was a large spacious library.
Both Al Lubnā Al Qāsim and her husband, Pratāp Bachhalyā, were great believers in reading and keeping themselves update.
So were Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī and I.
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī was not my live in relationship partner exactly.
She was my friend and sister in law, my Salhaj, actually.
Yet, we fucked now openly.
Even her husband appreciated our exquisite fucking.
The entire Al Qāsim sisters were thoroughly devastating Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān Beauties.
I smiled at Pratāp Bachhalyā.
“You are one of the luckiest men, Pratāp. Your wife is really a devastating Musalmān Beauty. Congratulations.”
Pratāp Bachhalyā smiled graciously.
“Thank you very much.”
In the center of the library, there was a massive mahogany table.
There were three huge table lamps on the table.
The shades were some four feet in diameter at the bottom.
They were composed of heavy leather.
The clustered lamps on the interior poured fourth illumination upon the huge table and sprayed light out through the openings in the tops of the shades.
Six chairs had been drawn up at the table.
Three of them were occupied.
The fourth was evidently occupied by Al Lubnā Al Qāsim and Pratāp Bachhalyā.
Evidently, they were fucking on the fourth chair, as Al Zakiyah Al Qāsim and Vikram Bachhalyā were still fucking on the third.
The fifth chair was occupied by Al Safiyah Al Ghaus.
The last sixth chair was occupied by Al Nadīm Al Quddūs.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus and Al Nadīm Al Quddūs were also husband and wife.
Yet they were sitting on separate chairs fully clothed.
“Hey,” Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī laughed at them, “aren’t you too husband and wife?”
“Sure we are.” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs said curtly, “But I am neither Vikram Bachhalyā nor Pratāp Bachhalyā. I am Al Nadīm Al Quddūs. Remember?”
Vikram Bachhalyā fucking Al Zakiyah Al Qāsim and Pratāp Bachhalyā fucking Al Lubnā Al Qāsim laughed.
Both the younger sisters of Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī, Al Zakiyah Al Qāsim and Al Lubnā Al Qāsim laughed too.
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs was shamelessly not embarrassed.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus looked shameful of herself.
“Sorry, Al Hudā , your cousin is a finicky. He doesn’t care ever even a bit how embarrassed and shameful I am feeling myself, as if my husband has died or divorced me already. His backward morals…”
“Backward morals hell,” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs said curtly, “I am not an ever sexy Hindu. And you knew it very well before you married me. Didn’t you?”
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Imām Muħammad Ħasan wasn’t even in the least surprised when he found not even a single hand rose in his support.
It couldn’t be achieved only in a single year.
Not only Imām Muħammad Ħasan, Al Sadar Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, herself too knew there were so many illegal militant organizations of Pseudo Musalmīn working clandestinely in former Saůūdī Årab, present Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat.
It was a backbreaking job.
Yet, it didn’t mean anything.
She looked comfortable and friendly.
It was appropriate for the job Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan had entrusted to her.
“Your friend has gone crazy.” Imām Muħammad Ħasan said gravely, “Her success has gone over her head. It isn’t easy for everyone to digest her/his incredulous miraculous success.”
“No one in the Executive Council agreed with you.”
“They’d kill her.” Imām Muħammad Ħasan burst out.
“If they could have, they would have already.”*
Bābarah Åālamgīr paused before answering.
“At first I thought it was a vacation fuck, but I’m starting to wonder now if both of them are seeing more, and just don’t want to admit it yet. Have you noticed the way she looks at me, and the way she’s suddenly getting all domestic with cooking and all. Did you know she did my laundry today, without me knowing? I teased them both about getting me a new Ammī. Isn’t it interesting? A new Ammī of my own age, I mean. My childhood friend is my new Ammī. I think that maybe we just might, in time. I didn’t realize it at the time, but Durgesh was really hurt by the whole Live in Relationship Partner thing. I can’t see him running back into it or any kind of commitment.”
They lay there quietly for a while.
Zubaydah Bābar started to purr, to hum, in response.
“You know Zubaydah Bābar hasn’t had her orgasm yet. What do you say Nishāt Nazli? Wanna gang up on her? I’ll take the bottom, you take the top, and then we’ll switch.” Bābarah Åālamgīr winked at Nishāt Nazli impishly.
“Sounds like a plan to me.” Nishāt Nazli laughed.
They both moved into position to give pleasure to their friend, Zubaydah Bābar.*
“You are becoming over cautious, Abbū. Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is now our administrator. She has proven to be more successful and smarter than we are. Congratulations, you’ve succeeded in making your daughter even more than what you wanted to make her when you were only a Mukħtār at Tabah. Only she has gone too far ahead. We don’t know now exactly in what the more Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is capable. Durgesh has made her a living legend. I don’t know Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is really a reincarnation of Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimahrza or not. But I’m certain most of us suspect now that she may be. Moreover, they believe she has also attained her Svarūpé Avasthānam as Durgesh has.”
Imām Muħammad Ħasan retorted.
“If there is actually a stage of human evolution that’s called Svarūpé Avasthānam.”
“I see. You don’t believe in Svarūpé Avasthānam at all, do you?”
“I’m not a sucker enough to do so.” Imām Muħammad Ħasan said curtly.
“Not on the cost of her very life, no.” Imām Muħammad Ħasan said furiously, “She doesn’t understand she is playing with dynamite. Running the seven movements Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club, Cuckold Your Musalmān husband, Ashvinātam Gangbang Club, Al Jihād fil Durgesh fī sabīlillāh, Jet Musalmān Beauties Squad, Durgesh Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ Sex Therapy and Durgesh Åāýéshah Siddīqah Social Service, was one thing and establishing an Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah is quite another thing. They won’t let her do it ever.”
“I see.” Imām Muħammad Ħasan said sarcastically, “Am I under arrest in that case?”
“I request you not to make my job difficult.”
“We know you think no ideology is finished forever really. It may lose its political power only.”
“That’s not what I think, that’s the truth, damn you.”
Imām Muħammad Ħasan watched her sternly.
“You bunch of fools, only because you’ve succeeded in abolishing the age old kingdom of Pseudo Musalmīn from Saůūdī Årab only, you think all the rest of the Pseudo Islamic Countries would also surrender to you in establishing your dream Ummat Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah? All right, there is no use in arguing with you. How do you intend to treat me, now?”
“Okay, shall I stand you a drink?”
“Later, perhaps, but for now, please sit down. I’m still your niece.”
“I request you again not to make my job more difficult.”
“They killed every Musalmān woman however smart, however intelligent she was, whenever she tried to rule them. They managed even to bring Ummil Mominīn Ħazrat Åāýéshah Siddīqah razī Allāhu tålā ånhā when even Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimahrza revolted. They never allowed even Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimahrza to be the Kħalīfatul Musalmīn.”
“Sure, so far.”*
It was not till midnight that two guards came to remove Imām Muħammad Ħasan from what was, he had to admit, a quite luxurious room.
It was as luxurious as the rooms found only in Ved Nagar.
No other city and/or country could even dream to afford such luxurious rooms.
The room was at Security Headquarters.
It was luxurious, yet locked.
A prison cell?
Are we really as resourceful now as we can afford such luxurious prison cell now?
Imām Muħammad Ħasan wondered.
He had over six hours to second-guess himself bitterly, striding restlessly across the floor for much of the period.
Why did he trust even now Nafīsah Salmān?
Hasn’t she cuckolded him?
Yet, he was over self-confident.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan believed he was far smarter than he really was.
And his over confidence is still continued.
His optimism is incurable.
Why shouldn’t he trust Nafīsah Salmān even now?
Actually, Imām Muħammad Ħasan was neither terrorist, nor criminal.
He only acted to deceive Nafīsah Salmān to be so.
Durgesh was right.
Durgesh was almost always right.
What a man!
What a miraculous man.
What a wonderfully intelligent man!
It served other purposes.
None could understand Durgesh’s planning.
Only his Pitr’shrī and then his own younger brother could understand Durgesh.
His Pitr’shrī explained it to his younger brothers and cousins.
He made Durgesh to explain it to Prakāsh.
Wasn’t it incredible that Prakāsh was so convinced and so dedicated that he sacrificed his entire life, his entire career, to the mission?
The extent Prakāsh believed his elder brother!
The extent Prakāsh had faith in him.
He sacrificed his career as a potential mathematician.
He sacrificed his career as a potential scientist too.
A great sacrifice of course.
He said he couldn’t manage both his study of science and the HVSI administration entrusted to him.
He decided he had to sacrifice his career in mathematical science so that he could make the dream of HVSI come true.
A great decision at that time.
They worked hard 24x7x365
And now they are as successful as none else.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan was inspired from it.
He found to his extremely pleasant surprise his daughter Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan extraordinary brilliant.
Suddenly Imām Muħammad Ħasan found a guard was addressing him repeatedly and absolutely engrossed in his nonstop chain of thoughts, he hasn’t even heard him.
“Yes, please.” Imām Muħammad Ħasan addressed the guard.
“You will have to come with us, Councilman,” the senior of the two guards said with unemotional gravity.
His insignia showed him to be a lieutenant.
He had a scar on his left cheek.
He didn’t look tired at all even now.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan didn’t budge.
“Your name, lieutenant.”
“I am Lieutenant Salāħuddīn Ayyūbī, Councilman.”
“I try to live the great name. Thank you, Councilman.”
“How?” Imām Muħammad Ħasan said ironically, “By breaking the law?”
“You realize you are breaking the law, Lieutenant Salāħuddīn Ayyūbī. You can’t arrest a Councilman.”
“We have our direct orders, sir.”
“You know very well that doesn’t matter. Did you fight for establishment of this kind of Democracy? She promised us a Democracy. Didn’t she? Yet, if it’s the Democracy what the hell was different in the kingdom of Assaåūds?”
He didn’t even try to answer him.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan continued furiously.
“If it’s really a Democracy, how the hell you can be ordered to arrest a Councilman? Don’t you understand that you’d be liable for a court martial as its result?”
The lieutenant smiled cunningly.
“Who said we are arresting you, Councilman?”
“I see. So you are also involved in her game she’s playing?”
“Okay. I won’t argue with you. If I’m not under arrest, I don’t have to go with you anywhere.”
“We have been instructed to escort you to your home, sir.”
“Well, it happens that I know the way myself.” Imām Muħammad Ħasan said sarcastically, “I wasn’t born yesterday. I don’t need your damn escort.”
Lieutenant Salāħuddīn Ayyūbī managed to feign gravity, yet respectfully still now,
“We have to protect you too, en route.”
“From what? From whom?”
“From any potential mob that may gather.”
“Al Sadar Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat is the most popular individual here now. You’ve opposed her openly in the Executive Council itself. There may be some over enthusiasts to harm you, sir. The possibility cannot be ruled out absolutely. The government has to provide you enough security to protect you from any potential harm from such over enthusiasts.”
“I see. So you are too deeply involved in her games? To which of her seven movements do you belong, Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club, Cuckold Your Musalmān husband, Ashvinātam Gangbang Club, Al Jihād fil Durgesh fī sabīlillāh, Jet Musalmān Beauties Squad, Durgesh Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ Sex Therapy and Durgesh Åāýéshah Siddīqah Social Service?”
Lieutenant Salāħuddīn Ayyūbī smiled.
“I don’t know what you are implying, sir, Councilman.”
“With all due respect to you, sir, I can’t and won’t stop you from any loud thinking whatsoever you please, Councilman.”
“You are a major shareholder of that movement yourself, Councilman. What do you think; you don’t belong to that movement even having such a large investment in it?”
“Allah, I’ll be damned.”
“I beg your pardon, sir.”
“Nothing. Never mind.”
“You, being the major shareholder in Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club movement, need more protection from Pseudo Musalmīn than even you imagine, sir.” Lieutenant Salāħuddīn Ayyūbī said with prodigal sweetness and respect, “It is one of the main reasons we’ve waited for midnight. And, now, sir, for your protection we must ask you to come with us. May I say, not as a threat but as information rather, that we are authorized to use force if necessary.”*
Only HVSI manufactured Eīshān Vaigyānic Whips till last year.
Having monopoly in it, HVSI had made grand money by selling them in international market.
Now, HVSI had lost its monopoly.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan rose with whatever dignity he could muster even now.
“Okay, Lieutenant Salāħuddīn Ayyūbī, to my home, then. Or will I find out that you are going to take me to prison instead?”
“We have not been instructed to lie, to you, sir.” Lieutenant Salāħuddīn Ayyūbī said with a pride of his own.
It didn’t mean he never lied to anyone.
For the second time in a week, he had lied to Jamīlah Bū Pāshā even about his hours, to get away from home early.
Suddenly he felt furtive, secretive, and uneasy about so naturally― well, almost.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan became aware that he was in the presence of a professional man.
He would require a direct order before he would lie.
And even then, his expression and his tone of voice would give him away.
“I ask your pardon, Lieutenant.” Imām Muħammad Ħasan said, “I didn’t mean to imply that I doubted your word.”
A ground car was waiting for them outside.
The street was empty.
There was no sign of any human being, let alone a mob.
Even then, the lieutenant had been truthful.
He had not said there was a mob outside or that one would form.
He had referred to ‘any mob that may gather.’
He had only said ‘may’.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan could not have twisted away and made a run for it.
The car moved off.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan said,
“Once I am home, I presume I may then go about my business freely― that I may leave, for instance, if I choose.”
“We have no order to interfere with you, Councilman, in any way, except insofar as we are ordered to protect you.”
“Insofar? What the hell does that mean in this case?” Imām Muħammad Ħasan was again furious.
Yet, as soon as he expressed his fury, he realized immediately that he was wasting his energy in vain.
Lieutenant Salāħuddīn Ayyūbī had to do what he was instructed to.
He couldn’t disobey Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, his daughter.
Why the hell can’t he understand his daughter is more powerful now?
He knew very well how dangerous the job, he was entrusted to, was.
The message Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan wanted to send to the Pseudo Musalmīn, was if I can’t spare my own Abbū to differ with my dream project Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah, how the hell you think I would let you do it?
Lieutenant Salāħuddīn Ayyūbī said gravely.
“Sorry, Councilman, sir, I am instructed to tell you that once you are home, for your own safety you may not leave it. The streets of Dārussalām are not safe for you. I am responsible for your safety, sir. You are not only a Councilman, you also the father of our Al Sadar Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat.”
Imām Muħammad Ħasan smiled sarcastically.
“So, my own daughter has put me under house arrest?”
“I’m not a lawyer, Councilman. I don’t know what that means.”
Lieutenant Salāħuddīn Ayyūbī gazed ahead straight.
Yet, his elbow made contact with Imām Muħammad Ħasan’s side.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan could not have moved, however slightly, without the lieutenant becoming aware of it.
Even the White House couldn’t match it in its grandness and luxuries.
“I’ll get out first, Councilman. We will escort you in.”
“For my safety?” Imām Muħammad Ħasan smiled ironically.
There were two guards waiting inside the front door.
A night light was gleaming, but the windows had been opacified.
Moreover, it was not visible from outside.
Then he dismissed it with an inward shrug.
If the Executive Council itself could not protect a Councilman from the ever aggressive Al Sadar Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat, in the Council Chamber itself, then surely her own residence could never serve him as his castle.
“How many of you do I have in here altogether? A regiment?” Imām Muħammad Ħasan asked heatedly.
“No, Abbū.” Came a voice, soft, melodious, yet steady and powerful simultaneously. “Just one person you are already habitual of, aside from those you are already acquainted with, for the last year at least. And I have been waiting for you, long enough.”
“Time enough, Abbū, don’t you think, for us to talk person to person?”
Imām Muħammad Ħasan stared.
“All this rigmarole to―”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan interrupted him in a low, yet forceful voice,
“Quiet please, Abbū. ―And you four, outside. Outside! ―All will be well in here.”
The four guards saluted and turned on their heels.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
The Cabinet Room
She felt that the meeting in the Cabinet Room should concentrate on Ved Nagar and my Svarūpé Avasthānam only.
On what Evelyn Carter should give to me and expect to receive in return.
Yes, she isn’t certain I’ve attained my Svarūpé Avasthānam.
Neither she is certain there is any stage in human evolution that’s called Svarūpé Avasthānam, Self Synchronization, at all.
There’s only one human society, Hinduism that claims, there exists such a stage in human evolution.
HVSI explains its every meteoric miraculous incredible rise using this extremely incredulous theory.
Evelyn Carter doesn’t believe it’s true.
Well, Lily Turner herself doesn’t believe it.
“You know I can’t.” Lily Turner said almost incensed due to her helplessness.
With this concentration on the immediate subject of concern, there was no need to be burdened by the secretary of agriculture, the secretary of commerce, the secretary of transportation, the attorney general, and other members of President’s staff.
Entering the Cabinet Room, Lily Turner could see at a glance that the necessary officers had been alerted.
They were already on hand.
Lily Turner greeted Dr. Åārifah Mustafā, Secretary to Secretary of State, Cyrus Vance, Dr. Shāhidah Ashraf, the recommended Chief of Staff of White House, the secretary of defense and the three officers of the National Security Council.
Then she took the leather chair next to Evelyn Carter’s vacant one.
Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās watched me gravely.
“I asked was there any ice to break?” I repeated my question.
“It depends on how you look at it.”
“You went to the table to get acquainted with Nadīm Iqbāl Muħammad?”
“If the court please,” Waħīd Murād, the Public Prosecutor, said, “I must insist that the counsel is renowned, infamous rather I must say, to be biased in favor of Musalmān Beauties whosoever she may be. Yet he is surprisingly manifestly unfair to this witness. He is browbeating this witness constantly and trying to put her in a false light before the jury. I want to remind the court, as well as to the defense counsel this woman is a widow. She has been bereaved by the crime of murder committed by―”
“Just a minute, your honor,” I interrupted, smiling, “Mr. Public Prosecutor is arguing the case. There isn’t any question before the court for the Public Prosecutor to argue the case at this time.”
Waħīd Murād was quite angry.
“Nevertheless,” he shouted as if, “I object to having this woman held up in front of this jury as a strumpet, a harlot, a prostitute.”
I smiled patronizing, yet sophisticated.
“And I object, your honor, to having Mrs. Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās held up as a mealymouthed, deceptive, persecuted, bereaved widow simply so the prosecutor can play on the sympathies of the jury. It isn’t a theater; neither are we staging a theatrical drama here. It’s a temple of justice and we are fighting here for the life of humankind. One person already has been murdered and we are fighting here to save the life of another.”
Judge Keyser frowned.
“At present there isn’t any question before the court. Therefore, there isn’t any reason whatsoever to make an objection. The jurors are called upon to see the witnesses, to watch their demeanor, their behavior, their conduct on the stand, to form their own opinions as to thefacts.
The prosecutor has one theory of the case and the defense has another. Please try to avoid personalities, gentlemen. You may proceed, Mr. Durgesh.”
By this time, all vestiges, all hints of the fragile, delicate, helpless, bereaved widow had left the witness Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās.
However, her guts were appreciable.
Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās was still sitting on the witness chair, slightly forward, still sad, and feigning a widow being intimidated unreasonably.
“Now then,” I attacked her once again, “you saw this letter in your husband’s pocket?”
“It wasn’t a letter, your honor,” she looked at Judge Keyser, “everyone can understand that it was a blackmail demand.”
“Blackmail demand on Nadīm Iqbāl Muħammad?” I asked.
“The letter was sent to him.”
“Isn’t it a fact that your third husband, Akram Sultan, had also received a blackmail demand?” I thundered at her.
“I can’t help it.”
“Isn’t it a fact that your second husband, Muħammad Qāsim Ayyūbī, had also received a blackmail demand?” I smiled at her meaningfully.
“I can’t help it.” Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās repeated her answer.
“Isn’t it a fact that your first husband, Zāhid Rashīd, had also received a blackmail demand?” I smiled at her once again.
“I can’t help it.” She again repeated.
“All the four envelopes had the return address in the upper left hand corner and the name A. M. Åbbās?”
“How do you know it was blackmail?”
“There was a demand for money in the letter. What do you think; it was an invitation to dance?”
“I can’t answer that question. I’d rather leave it to the jury to draw their own conclusion.”
Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās watched me gravely.
“That’s your privilege.”
“What’s your full name?”
“Will you please abbreviate it?”
“A. M. Åbbās.” She said curtly, “I understand your implication. But I never blackmailed anyone in my life. Neither have I sent any blackmail letter to anyone. Anyone can use my name as a return address to implicate me.”
“Is there a newsstand at the corner by your residence?”
“Yes, there is.”
“Are you familiar with the person who runs it?”*
Lily Turner repeated her question.
“I asked how did your pre-briefing go with Evelyn Carter?”
“It means lousy, useless, worthless, crummy, horrible. Our potential candidate for next President of USA, Ms. Evelyn Carter, didn’t give a damn about Ved Nagar, Svarūpé Avasthānam and Durgesh himself. She only wanted to speak of sex championship contest in Washington D.C. between
“Then our work’s cut out for us.”
“You are forgetting the resources CIA has. Fortunately or unfortunately, I’m somewhat in a position to use those entire resources for the benefits of USA. Even the President of USA himself has given us the permission, let alone the Director of CIA. I never believe anyone of my Musalmān women friends too, as the President of USA has instructed us, rather has imposed the condition on us, without investigating about them thoroughly.”
“I agree with Lily Turner.” Dr. Åārifah Mustafā, Secretary to Secretary of State, Cyrus Vance, said severely, “That’s why I cancelled everyone else. Ved Nagar is the dream city of Vedic Monotheist Hindus. Durgesh has succeeded in their dreams getting true. He is a Parahuman and Ved Nagar is full of Posthumans.”
“Nonsense.” Evelyn Carter said.
“You must be crazy, Lily.” Evelyn Carter said tersely, “I know Durgesh more than you. He and his adroit followers Vedic Monotheist Hindus are number one liars, number one rumor spreaders. They believe that spreading rumors is Dharm Yuddh, the holy war, a Crusade.”*
Lily Turner smiled.
“I wanted to concentrate on what’s waiting for you at lunch.”
Evelyn Carter controlled herself.
Now she appeared suddenly surprisingly to be in good humor.
She brushed back her hair, grinned at the assemblage, and watched all of them impishly deliberately.
Lily Turner realized her strategy.
She reminded Evelyn Carter gravely.
“We have been discussing your lunch with Durgesh.”
“Is it going to be a long lunch?” Evelyn Carter asked delinquently.
“It doesn’t have to be.” Dr. Åārifah Mustafā, Secretary to Secretary of State, Cyrus Vance, assured her, “After some filling gap talk with the ever richest person in the entire history of humankind, you can wind up lunch and we’ll move into the Yellow Oval Room. The President would be busy elsewhere with Valéry Giscard d’Estaing, the President of France. He has instructed us already to be there in Yellow Oval Room.”
“That can be strictly business?”
“That can be strictly business.” Dr. Åārifah Mustafā said.
“I just wanted to know because I didn’t want to miss the big contest.” Evelyn Carter explained.
“You’ll have plenty of time for that,” Lily Turner promised, “This lunch and meeting with the former head of Hindu Vishv Underground is scheduled to last one and a half hours. Then Miss USA, Margaret Kennedy, is scheduled to accompany Durgesh to the opening of the Ashvinatam Museum expecting Durgesh to say a few words, maybe five minutes’ worth, about an important fund raiser. That’ll give you plenty of time to get back for the contest.”
Evelyn Carter surveyed the Cabinet Room.
“I see a lot of our friends are missing. You’ve brought in only the big brass.”
“Deliberate,” said Lily Turner simply, “Since you are going to be bargaining with the ever sexiest Vedic Monotheist Hindu, we wanted our full concentration to be devoted to a treaty with Ved Nagar/Trantor.”*
“Fair enough.” She said.
“The fact you have to remember is not that Durgesh is the Mayor of Ved Nagar/Trantor now. He was the democratic head of Hindu Vishv Underground too. Hindu Vishv Underground was an underground organization of revolutionaries who were actually behind the independence of India.”
“That doesn’t exist now?” Evelyn Carter smiled sarcastically.
“CIA suspects that it does exist now as Ved Nagar/Trantor instead of its said dissolution into Vyom, interspace.” Lily Turner said curtly. “Our former station head at Ved Nagar/Trantor, Della Turner, and our present station head, Akhilésh M. Āgnéý there, both have reported the importance of Ved Nagar/Trantor. We suspect it isn’t only a city in India. It’s actually Hindu Vishv Underground in its new present supreme developed form.”
Evelyn Carter smiled.
“Any evidence that our suspicion may be true?”
“That’s what you have to find out.” Lily Turner said.
She was twenty-one.
“The fact,” Lily Turner said, “that your younger sister, Rukħsānah Carter, is also in the same university as Kħadījah Muħammad was in, will give you something in common to talk about before you settle down to the nitty-gritty. Durgesh loves Kħadījah Muħammad even more than his duly married wife, Saiyadah Fātimah PhD.”
Now, Evelyn Carter too nodded.
“Alright, what’s the nitty-gritty?”
She tore it loose and came around the table to Evelyn Carter.
“Nellie Adams, take my seat and give me yours. This will make it easier for me to explain a map of Indian sub continent and beyond that I’ve been drawing.”
The exchange was made.
“That’s the reason I called you in today. You are the one closest to Salīm Jalāluddīn Muħammad. I have naturally to discuss the problem with you.” Dr. Āsiyah Mustafā cleared her throat and looked into Nūrjahān Ghayās Beg’s beautiful Iranian Shiå Musalmān eys, “I saw Salīm Jalāluddīn Muħammad late yesterday. I outlined one final time what had to be done. He approved, approved of the surgery. This morning, first thing, he telephoned me. He has changed his mind. He is turning down the operation.”
“He is what? Salīm won’t go through it? I didn’t talk to him this morning. He was still asleep. I haven’t heard about it naturally. It makes no sense. Are you sure, Doctor? We had agreed surgery was his only chance.”
“Apparently, Salīm now doesn’t think so. He now thinks there’s a better course. Have you seen this morning’s paper?”
Nūrjahān surveyed the front page.
She was more bewildered than ever.
“There’s just some headline about Madīnah Munawwarah.”
Turn to page three. Read the full story.”
Nūrjahān Ghayās Beg opened the paper.
The headline hit her.
The story that followed was bylined by great Bābarah Åālamgīr.
It was datelined Paris.
Nūrjahān Ghayās Beg calmly, patiently, read the news story.
When she was through, she folded the paper patiently, neatly, and put it on the desk.
She met the beautiful eyes of Dr. Āsiyah Mustafā.
Nūrjahān Ghayās Beg was aghast, stunned, as the full import of what was happening struck her.
“Yes, that’s the news.” Dr. Āsiyah Mustafā said.
“News? Hell. The hallucination of some crazy uneducated/under educated Musalmīn. It might be some deliberate political strategy of Pseudo Musalmīn too to compensate the anti Musalmīn anti Islam trend, propelled by Dr. Ali Sina and his co authors. Are you telling me Salīm Jalāluddīn Muħammad has read it and believes in this nonsense?”
“Yes.” Dr. Āsiyah Mustafā admitted.
Evelyn Carter watched it.
“A crude drawing of the Indian Sub Continent. It highlights our major Eīshān Vaigyānic bases that help us contain any overenthusiasm that may occur in India, Pakistan, Shri Lanka, nd Afghanistan.” Using her pen as a pointer on the map, Dr. Åārifah Mustafā resumed, “As you can see, our potential Presidential candidate for the next term, this Eīshān Vaigyānic base of ours there in Pakistan has three major wings: Sunnī, Shiå and Aħmadī. Dr. Āsiyah Mustafā is the Commander of our Sunnī Eīshān Vaigyānic base. It is unfortunate that Dr. Āsiyah Mustafā doesn’t have even the citizenship of Pakistan. She is still a Turk Musalmān Beauty. Nūrjahān Ghayās Beg is the Commander of our Shiå Eīshān Vaigyānic base. What a tragedy it is that as Dr. Āsiyah Mustafā, Nūrjahān Ghayās Beg too isn’t a Pakistani citizen. Nūrjahān Ghayās Beg is still a proud Iranian. We have only an Aħmadī Musalmān Beauty as our Aħmadī Eīshān Vaigyānic base at Pakistan that’s a citizen of Pakistan.”
Evelyn Carter smiled.
“How the hell you think Durgesh can help us in improving it?”
“He can permit us to have similar three Eīshān Vaigyānic bases in Ved Nagar: Sunnī Eīshān Vaigyānic base, Shiå Eīshān Vaigyānic base and Aħmadī Eīshān Vaigyānic base. He is the Mayor of the dream city Ved Nagar.”
“Do you really believe in Eīshān Vigyān?”
“Allah,” Dr. Åārifah Mustafā looked at her entirely disgruntled. “Don’t tell us you don’t deserve the post we are preparing you for.”
“Shame on you, Evelyn Carter,” Lily Turner said curtly, “you are more interested in the sex championship contest between Musalmān Beauties and Christian Beauties, than you are interested in your preparation for what we want you to be.”
“Go to hell your Nafīsah Salmān and you both. I say Nafīsah Salmān has succeeded in getting Durgesh. Her ambition has been attained. She is living now in your so-called dream city, Ved Nagar/Trantor. If it’s really a dream city as you claim it to be, why the hell Nafīsah Salmān would risk her golden fortune by helping us, instead of working for HVSI? Durgesh is her Live in Relationship Partner now. Nafīsah Salmān isn’t a fool to risk the golden opportunity of her life. No one would. Even I wouldn’t if I were in her shoes.”
“So this is the reason you are not interested in the strategies we are suggesting?” Lily Turner was furious now.
“Well, why should I?”
Evelyn Carter stared at the map.
“An area, a large area you’ve colored in green and saffron, and two small ones.”
“And you want one there?”
“Don’t you?” now it was Nellie Adams, the secretary to the secretary of defense.
Moreover, Nellie Adams was furious.
“Nellie Adams, the secretary to the secretary of defense,” Evelyn Carter laughed sarcastically, “Don’t pretend to be righteous enough to be more interested in anything else instead in sex with Durgesh. Didn’t you yourself rape Durgesh because he wasn’t leaving Dr. Åārifah Mustafā?”
“I raped him because he was deliberately ignoring me.” Nellie Adams shouted, “It doesn’t mean I’m as disinterested in my country and in Christianity as the hell you are. I am ashamed of you, Evelyn Carter.”
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
“I’ll call Mrs. Nadīm Iqbāl Muħammad to the witness stand.” The Public Prosecutor, Waħīd Murād, announced gravely.
Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās, attired in black, moved slowly forward.
She held up her right hand, was sworn and she took her place on the witness stand.
Waħīd Murād’s voice held that synthetic sympathy that was the stock in trade of some prosecutors examining bereaved widows, as he questioned her.
“Mrs. Nadīm, we have to perform the disagreeable duty of identifying the decedent. You are the widow of Nadīm Iqbāl Muħammad. I believe you were called upon to identify his body after it had been found in the place referred to generally as the Palmdale subdivision.”
“That’s right.” Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās said.
“You saw the body?”
Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās controlled her tears with obvious efforts.
“You loved your husband?”
“Yes, sir. But not any more if what the police claim about him is true.”
Waħīd Murād watched Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās sympathetically.
“The police claim he was working against the interests of United States of America. If it’s true, I no more love the man.”
“It was your second marriage?”
“Fourth.” Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās amended the Public Prosecutor gravely, “I’m the unfortunate enough that’s still virgin despite my four marriages in last three years.”
“Won’t you explain it to the court and to the jury, ma’am, if you don’t mind?”
“My first husband was my University mate. We loved each other very much. Zāhid Rashīd loved me very much but I never knew he was a criminal. The police shot him in an encounter before he could celebrate his first night with me. I thank my Creator, Allah tabāruk tålā Rabbul åālmīn.”
Judge Keyser, plainly interested, leaned forward to listen to every word Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās was speaking.
“How many days after you married your second husband, Muħammad Qāsim Ayyūbī?” Waħīd Murād asked.
“I loved Zāhid Rashīd so much that it took me two years to forget him enough to marry Muħammad Qāsim Ayyūbī; however Muħammad Qāsim Ayyūbī wanted to marry me as soon as Zāhid Rashīd was shot in the police encounter.”
“How old were you when you married Muħammad Qāsim Ayyūbī?” Waħīd Murād asked sympathetically.
“Meaning you married Zāhid Rashīd at your nineteenth?”
“Yes, sir. That’s right.”
“What about Muħammad Qāsim Ayyūbī?”
“It turned out that the scoundrel was Zāhid Rashīd’s cousin and he actually married me to keep my mouth shut of Zāhid Rashīd’s criminal activities if I knew anything of them.”
“He was himself a criminal?”
“He was himself a criminal.” Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās said, “I feel shame in admitting that, we Musalmīn are not as educated mostly as the non Musalmīn are. Consequently it’s easier for the criminals to use us Musalmīn for their criminal activities more than they can use the non Musalmīn.”
“I know.” Waħīd Murād said gravely, “I belong to the same community as you do. What happened to Muħammad Qāsim Ayyūbī, your second husband?”
“He and my third husband, Akram Sultan, both were hanged for murders. Nadīm Iqbāl Muħammad was my fourth husband.”
“Very very unfortunate.”
“Thank you. Perhaps I am foolish enough not to distinguish criminals from non-criminals.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled.
“Kambakħt! She deliberately married all of them one by one.” She commented.
“How do you know?” I looked at Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan.
“Hindu Piyā, all the four of them were multi-millionaires. The bitch is playing in billions now.”
“She seems innocent. But she isn’t. She is a great actress. Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās deliberately married those criminals and helped the police in encountering and hanging them.”
I watched Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, incredulous.*
“Ma’am, you saw the body?”
“Yes,” Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās once more tried to control herself, “Being his wife in his lifetime, I had to.”
“Can you identify it?”
“Yes, sir. It was the body of my fourth husband, Nadīm Iqbāl Muħammad.”
Public Prosecutor, Waħīd Murād, went on similarly compassionately.
“Now then, do you know any Imām Muħammad Ħasan, ma’am?”
“Sure, he was my fourth husband’s, Nadīm Iqbāl Muħammad’s, one of the very close friends.”
“Have you met Imām Muħammad Ħasan personally too?”
“Yes, sir. My fourth husband, Nadīm Iqbāl Muħammad, wanted me to meet him. I obeyed my husband.”
“Did Imām Muħammad Ħasan lend you a HVSI .22 revolver some time ago?”
“Noooooo?” Waħīd Murād was immensely surprised.
“I tried to. But Nadīm instructed me to keep it with me.”
“Where is it now?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did you do with it?”
“I kept it in my safe.”
“Yet you don’t have it?”
“I don’t have it.”
“Would you explain?”
“Sir, there was a theft. I found that someone had evidently been in very much of a hurry. A framed picture of my husband, Nadīm Iqbāl Muħammad, with his ex-wife, Saåīdah Åbbās Rashīd, had been ripped from a wall and torn out so that the picture of Saåīdah Åbbās Rashīd had gone to smithereens. A section of wallboard had been taken from the wall and hadn’t been replaced. Behind that section of wallboard, was an oblong recess. It was in that recess my very high grade, fireproof, burglarproof wall safe, unlocked. Its door was partly open. The safe was empty.”
“What did you keep there?”
“All my precious belongings that I needed every now and then, my revolver given to me by my husband, and hundreds of thousand dollars we kept there for any potential emergency.”
“Nothing was there?”
“Nothing was there including the said revolver too.”
“That’s all, ma’am. Thank you.”
He twisted to me.
“You may cross examine, Mr. Durgesh.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan squeezed my hand.
“Rip her wide open, Durgesh. Please. The bitch is too smart to be handled for that damn fool Public Prosecutor. I bet no theft was there. She has all the money herself.”
“It might have been taken away. But not the money. The bitch is too smart for the burglars.”
I assured Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and advanced to the witness stand.
Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās was watching me austerely.
I stood facing the slender woman with the downcast eyes once again.
“Mrs. Nadīm,” I asked her equally compassionately, “Where did you meet your fourth husband, Nadīm Iqbāl Muħammad?”
“What were you doing at the time?”
Waħīd Murād was immediately on his feet.
“Objected to,” he smiled, “as incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial. It isn’t proper cross-examination too. It makes no difference what she was doing. It makes further no difference when the witness met the decedent or how she met him. She isn’t on trial. Zaynab Imrān Qurayshī is on trial.”
“Overruled.” Judge Keyser ruled.
Waħīd Murād requested patiently.
“May I be heard, your honor?”
“The court has already ruled on your objection, Mr. Public Prosecutor. In a case of this sort, I certainly intend to give the defendant every latitude in the field of cross-examination. Counsel undoubtedly has some point in mind or he wouldn’t have gone into this. Witness may answer the question.”*
Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās looked at me,
“I was working in a rather varied capacity.” She said.
“Describe the varied capacities.” I said generously inviting her.
Her voice grew a little stronger.
Her eyes rose long enough to flash a glance of gathering seduction at me.
“I was a show girl, I think.”
“Ms. Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās, you showed yourself in bathing suits, did you not?”
Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās smiled placidly.
“Oh, come on, Mr. Durgesh. We aren’t living in seventh century any more. Let the Pseudo Musalmīn fight to keep us all in seventh century. You are a Hindu, utmost ultramodern, I think. You allow your own Live in Relationship Partner, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, to be a nudist feminist. I was only wearing bathing suits.”
“I’m sorry. I thought you were resorting to double standards. Your Live in Relationship Partner can even make love to you openly in public places. And I couldn’t show my beauty even in bathing suits. Tut tut, Mr. Durgesh. I never expected this from a man, as ultramodern as you are.”
“You were a hostess?”
“Yet you married Nadīm Iqbāl Muħammad subsequently. Didn’t you?”
“Sure, yet Nadīm Iqbāl Muħammad too was a criminal is yet to be proven, sir.”
The Sālī was really smart.
She was even smarter than I thought she might be.
“So, let me understand, Ms. Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās, you were a shill?”
Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās watched me gravely.
“What do you mean?”
“You put on daringly cut evening gowns that were tight and clinging. You circulated around the gambling tables.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“You know Lily Turner and me?”
“You both are not as unknown, sir, as you erroneously think you are.” Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās smiled sadly, “Ms. Lily Turner is related to Stansfield Turner, the former Director of CIA. You are an utmost successful barrister, Sex Therapist, Writer and infamous as an ever unique Hindu lover of Musalmān Beauties from eighteen to sixty years old equally.”
“Thank you, sir, that you see it now. However, I don’t think it is worse to be even a shill than being a mole of a Pseudo Musalmān terrorist/ Criminal/Criminal minded Musalmān. I preferred to be a shill rather than being a mole of a Pseudo Musalmān terrorist/ Criminal/Criminal minded Musalmān. I don’t think you agree with me.”
“You are mistaken, ma’am.” I said gravely, “I too agree with you in the matter and appreciate the course you followed prudently.”
“Thank you.” She cooed seductively yet still not forgetting that she was a recent widow.
Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās was very careful.
Even Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was chewing her lower lip in somewhat vulnerability.
She had never seen me so incapable to rip wide open any witness.
Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās knew she had to face me.
She had come there very well prepared to meet my legal tactics.
Kambakħt never allows even Durgesh to put his hand on her anywhere.
She counter attacks Durgesh on his every legal attack.
She has studied Durgesh very well, very deeply, very adroitly.
Well, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan doesn’t know, at least till now.
“Being a hostess, you made yourself easy to pick up?” I asked Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās.
“Well, I wasn’t picked up, Mr. Durgesh.”
“I see. Well, let me put it this way,” I smiled, “It was easy to get acquainted with you?”
“Sure, and as such, it was easy to get acquainted with you?” I asked patiently, smiling myself.
“I was simply doing my duty as a hostess.”
“That’s right. Therefore it was easy to get acquainted with you?”
“Not for everyone. Only for the person(s) I allowed to.”
“You made it that way?”
“Well, I love to make acquaintance with the persons I like. What’s wrong in it? We humans are social animals I think. Aren’t we?”
“Sure,” I smiled, “very well said. Yet, the fact was that you were particularly easy to get acquainted with as far as wealthy men were concerned who were in a position to spend money on the gambling tables. Isn’t that true?”
“Well, let me answer it somewhat in detail. May I?”
“Sure. Go ahead.”
“I am a woman. I had lost my husband. So it was quite natural I was in a hunt of a suitable husband for me. No woman wants a poor husband. Every woman seeks a wealthy and capable powerful husband. What was wrong there if I were doing the same as any other woman in the same position as I was in would have done? You imply I shouldn’t have done what any woman in my position would’ve done?”*
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan gritted her teeth.
Kambakħt, smarter than even she thinks every time.
“Certainly not, Ms. Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās, certainly not.” I smiled sophisticatedly, politely and unwearyingly, “You too have every legal right that any other woman has. I agree with you hundred percent. However, nevertheless, having acquainted with the wealthy men, you didn’t cultivate them as a prospective husband for you. Instead, you made it a point to encourage them in their gambling.”
“How do you know what I actually did?”
“Well, well, come on, Ms. Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās. I’m not on the witness stand. You are. You kept hanging around the gambling tables doing a little gambling of your own and chatting with these gambling men so that they would continue their gambling after they might otherwise have quit.”
“And if they have quit I wouldn’t have any prospective husband for me.” She smiled scathingly, “Mr. Durgesh, both as a hostess and as a woman seeking a prospective husband I had to be attractive. You aren’t a woman. You can’t understand it. But I’m sure any women in jury and in audiences as well, can very well understand what I was really after.”
“You were frequently at the gambling tables. Weren’t you?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“You used chips?”
“Always. The other gamblers too use chips.” Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās smiled sadly yet confidently.
“Now then, when you first met Nadīm Iqbāl Muħammad, he was gambling at a table. Was he not?”
“I don’t gamble with money. I gamble with wits, my lady. Yet, I’m quite aware of these matters too and Las Vegas and Nevada also. My so many Live in Relationship Partners, as well as my so many women friends, haven’t quit yet their gambling habits.”
“Sorry.” Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās smiled sadly.
“Never mind. You were gambling at the table Nadīm Iqbāl Muħammad was gambling at?”
“Sure. I’ve already told you. I always used chips.”
“Yet, they were not normal chips. They were special chips. Were they not?”
“What do you mean?”
“The chips you played with,” I pointed my forefinger at her, “were not redeemable. You had those chips given to you. You gambled with them, my lady, yet they couldn’t be redeemed for money. Your gambling was simply an act.”
“Sure. Every gambler there was aware of it. They were seasoned gamblers, Mr. Durgesh. They themselves were not born yesterday.”
“Not everyone. They know there are hostesses. But how did they know you were also one of them? So, you were a shill, a come-on?”
“Oh, your honor,” Waħīd Murād said, “this is attempting to browbeat the witness. The question is argumentative; it is not proper cross-examination, it―”
“Overruled.” Judge Keyser snapped.
“Answer the question.” I said.
“Well, you make it sound rather…rather…”
“Undignified?” I prompted.
“Something like that.”
“You considered yourself dignified?”*
Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās watched me scrutinizing.
“Well, I considered myself at least more dignified than the moles of the gangsters, terrorists, criminal/criminal minded Musalmīn.” She said with immense pride. “I might haven’t been dignified with respect to the lucky women married with the sophisticated law abiding males, but I was certainly more dignified than the unlucky women who are married with the gangsters, criminal/criminal minded male e.g. a Musalmān.”
“You hate Musalmīn very much, Ms. Nadīm,” I smiled, “don’t you?”
“When you first met Nadīm Iqbāl Muħammad, you went to a table where he was already gambling, did you not?”
“Sure. I was a widow. I wanted a husband for me capable enough to give me what I needed. Nadīm Iqbāl Muħammad seemed to me quite capable in it.”
“Did someone direct you to go to that table, some person that represented your employer, the owner of that gambling house in Las Vegas, Nevada that pointed out Nadīm Iqbāl Muħammad to you? Didn’t this person tell you to go over there and get to work on him? Isn’t that right?”
“Yes, but I was already on my path to do the same anyway.”
“For your employer?”
“For myself. Mr. Durgesh, I was there hostess not to earn a living for myself. I was there hostess so that I may learn the inside gambling tactics to warn my potential husband and save his money.”
“Very noble of you, Mrs. Nadīm.” I smiled sarcastically.
“Thank you.” She cooed.
“What happened when you went to the table where Nadīm Iqbāl Muħammad was playing?”
“I went to the table, and when Mr. Nadīm Iqbāl Muħammad won, I smiled at him. That broke the ice.”
“What ice?” I asked curtly.
“I gave him a chance to be acquainted with me.”
“Did you think there was ice?”
She eyed me cynically.
“I used the expression as a figure of speech.”
“So did me.” I said authoritatively rather tersely somewhat, “I didn’t mean that there were icicles dripping all over this tight clinging gown that you were wearing. I realized that you referred to ice in a figurative manner of speaking. Naturally, I too used the term in the same sense. Now was there any ice to break?”
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
“Then you don’t know either Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm or Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās. They are especially chosen by us to keep both of their eyes on Muħammad Ůsmān nonstop. There are some more arrangements in addition. But they are kept to be used in emergency only.”
Kħadījah Muħammad smiled.
She pulled a newspaper.
“Here it is.”
It was a classified ad.
‘Five thousand INR reward:
It is requested to the parties who were changing a tire on an automobile at the intersection of Bājīrāo Mastānī Avenue and Nargis Dutt Drive, at about five o’clock on the afternoon of the thirty first, to communicate with the Jet Musalmān Beauties Squad.
If they give a description optimum to identify the green Safari that was speeding east on Nargis Dutt Drive, and crashed into the Lincoln parked there facing east itself on Bājīrāo Mastānī Avenue, they will receive INR five thousand cash.
Bystanders think the young woman in this parked car jotted down the license number of the speeding green Safari but left the scene before the police arrived.
Any information from anyone leading to an identification of this hit and run driver will result in the prompt payment of INR five thousand cash.
Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah smiled.
“I’m sure Muħammad Ůsmān has managed to sabotage it somehow. Otherwise, it had certainly produced some result till now. Everyone hates a hit and run driver.”
“Maybe the people in that parked automobile haven’t seen anything.” Kħadījah Muħammad suggested.
Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm was already on her back now on the bed.
“There were a man and a woman in the car. It was a light colored Mercedes, fairly new.” I got between the magnificent nude legs of Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm, “They’d evidently just finished changing a tire.”*
I was already so excited that I couldn’t wait.
I pushed it and entered to the hilt.
Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm kissed me gratefully.
“The bystanders say the man was putting the flat tire back in the trunk when the accident happened. The woman wrote something down in a notebook. Apparently, it was the license number of the automobile that speeded away from the scene of the accident after slamming the Ruqayyah Muħammad Åbdullah Lincoln.”
Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm was happy being fucked by me so wildly.
Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm smiled.
“Yes, Bājī. I have already told you so.”
“And you think there is money in it?”
I was still fucking her vigorously.
My Uncut Hindu Prick was vanishing into Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm’s Omani Årab Musalmān Cunt entirely to my Hindu balls, coming out anointed with her fragrant Omani Årab Musalmān vaginal juice till only its head remained inside, and then vanishing all over again to the hilt.
There was a superb lustful glint in Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm’s eyes.
To hell with Muħammad Ůsmān.
Why Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās only isn’t enough to keep an eye on that bastard?
Why it was necessary that Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm should also join the bastard as his confidential secretary?
Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm debated whether, now that the chips were down, she wanted to go through with it or not.
Yes, Durgesh is her man now.
He is a brilliant barrister.
She is Muħammad Ůsmān’s confidential secretary for six years now.
To what extent Durgesh, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and Kħadījah Muħammad have faith in her, is evident from the fact that they have put another shadow on the bastard, Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās, Muħammad Ůsmān’s second wife.
Is Muħammad Ůsmān really that dangerous?
And if so, should Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm interfere with his personal affairs?
Why the hell she didn’t do it?
How the hell she knows it’s really blackmail?
Suddenly she reached a decision.
“Yes, I think there is money in the suitcase.”
“I can’t explain the facts in another way.”
“What do you think the facts are?” I asked smiling.
“I’m Muħammad Ůsmān’s confidential secretary for the six years now. Naturally I know him somewhat more than the others.”
“Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās isn’t his wife for six years.” Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm said curtly, “She is a new addition to confirm what I report to Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, Durgesh and you, isn’t misjudged by me.”
“I see.” Kħadījah Muħammad smiled.
“I don’t think so.” Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm said patiently, “I open his mail, all of his mail. I separate it and arrange it in the order of its importance. I think he trusts me more than the rest of his employees even. We have been very close.”
“Not as close as his wife, yet.” Kħadījah Muħammad commented.
“Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās? She is married to him for four years only.”
The brightness in her eyes, as well as the triumphant smile on her lips increased.
She knew Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās also did the same for the same purpose.
The bloody bastard doesn’t deserve this great name.
His parents named him after Ħazrat Ůsmān bin Åffān razī Allāhu tålā ånahu.
He never tried to live his great name.
Being his secretary for six years now, Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm knows very well how many gambling joints Muħammad Ůsmān owns himself alone and how many with the other veteran Pseudo Musalmīn criminal/criminal minded persons.
She wouldn’t be surprised even if she would know some day, Muħammad Ůsmān is the Supremo of entire illegal gambling business on the globe.
Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm smiled adjusting her nude legs on my equally nude shoulders.
“Well, I open all of Muħammad Ůsmān’s mails. I informed you a few days ago, he instructed me that in case any envelope was received bearing the return address A. M. Åbbās, I wasn’t to open it. I was to pass it along to him unopened.”
Kħadījah Muħammad looked at me.
“That aroused your curiosity, you said.”
“That’s right.” Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm also looked at me bravely.
“Such a letter was received?”
“Such a letter was received.” Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm admitted.
“I instructed you not to open it.”
“I didn’t.” Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm said gravely, “Nevertheless I have the letter itself now. Here it is.”
She opened her purse and reached inside.
Kħadījah Muħammad and I exchanged swift glances.
Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm extracted a folded sheet of paper and unfolded it.
I pulled my Uncut Hindu Penis until only its head remained inside and thrust it back more forcefully.
It vanished again to my balls.
“How did you get this?” I asked her.
“I saw a torn piece of paper in the wastebasket.” Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm smiled cunningly and kissed me on my lips, “It had some words pasted on it.”
“It was unusual and I was put there by you folks to keep an eye especially on everything unusual.”
“I rummaged around in the wastebasket, found the other torn pieces of the letter and put them together.”
Taking the letter from her, I read it, holding it so Kħadījah Muħammad could also see the printed words.
‘GET MONEY. INSTRUCTIONS ON TELEPHONE. FAILURE WILL BE FATAL.’
“How about the envelope it came in?”
Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm again reached in her purse and took out an envelope.
In the upper left hand corner of the envelope, there was a return address of A. M. Åbbās, General Delivery.
The envelope had been addressed on a typewriter.
“You get it this morning?” I asked.
“That’s right. The letter was in the morning mail. I found it in the wastebasket about an hour ago.”
“Alright. Now, tell me about the suitcase.”
“Well, this morning after the letter I saw Muħammad Ůsmān was exceptionally nervous.”
Kħadījah Muħammad laughed incredulously.
“Bosh and nonsense. He was putting an act to deceive you.”
“That’s right.” Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm smiled, “I also suspected the same. Well, he told me to go down to a luggage store and get a suitcase. He said it was to be just a plain suitcase but it had to be strong and durable, nevertheless. He said the handle, particularly, had to be strong. Moreover, its sides must be so strong that the saleswoman could stand on it. He said he’d seen suitcases demonstrated in that way in some of the TV ads.”
“I went down and bought this suitcase. To check its strength I myself stood on it.”
“The suitcase has a lock.” Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm smiled too, “There were two keys to the lock when it was sold to me. I took one of them and took its impression on a soap to make its duplicate.”
“I delivered the suitcase to Muħammad Ůsmān with both the original keys. He took the suitcase and went into his office. The suitcase was empty. When he came back, it was locked and it was heavy.”
“Didn’t he give you some instructions?”
“Oh sure. Muħammad Ůsmān told me that I had to perform a very delicate mission. He wanted me to take this suitcase and be very, very careful not to let it out of my possession, not to let anything happen to it. I was to go to the Union Depot and go to the place where they have the lockers―you know, the baggage lockers where you pay ten INR, deposit baggage and get a key.”
I nodded gravely.
Muħammad Ůsmān was certainly after something mischievous.
The return address on the envelope ‘A. M. Åbbās’ could easily be interpreted ‘Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās’, his second wife, and actually our agent.
Was he planning to implicate Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm too in the conspiracy?*
I made Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm to go on her knees and elbows.
Even while Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm was reporting to me daily, and I kept my promise of fucking her while she was reporting to me, Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm was still more ravenous to enjoy me inside her more and more.
My sex kicks into her ultimate vaginal depths were already wild.
Even then, her sexual motions to my Hindu crotch were still wilder than mine were.
But she had to.
Damn Muħammad Ůsmān.
If only he wasn’t so, criminal/criminal minded Musalmān.
There isn’t any future of Pseudo Islam now anywhere.
Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm went on to say,
“I was to go to locker F786 and put this suitcase in there. I was to take out the key; put the key in an envelope addressed to A. M. Åbbās, General Delivery, put stamps on the envelope and put it in the mail. Then I was to return to the office.”
I squeezed her boobs still fucking her wildly.
“How long ago did you receive these instructions, Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm darling?”
“Just about twenty minutes ago.”
“I see. Now, what was to happen if the locker F786 was already in use?”
Kħadījah Muħammad smiled.
“If, suppose, someone had already put his/her baggage in there and taken the key out.” She explained to Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm, “Then what?”*
Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm winked at us.
“Then I was to use anyone of the four adjacent lockers in the same row as F786 and to the left of that locker.”
Kħadījah Muħammad said,
“Aren’t you fighting against time, in that case, I mean?”
“Sure.” Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm said increasing the already wild movements of her glorious and gorgeous Omani Årab Musalmān female buttocks to my Hindu crotch, “I’ve got my office car waiting downstairs. I want to open the suitcase and see what’s in it. There maybe even a bomb in it. We suspect Muħammad Ůsmān a potential terrorist after all.”
“Even if, as I rather suspect, it’s full of money, I want to take the numbers on some of the bills―all of them if we have time.” Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm said.
“Why didn’t you just open it?” Kħadījah Muħammad asked.
Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm smiled.
“Do I look that foolish?”
Kħadījah Muħammad smiled too.
“Banno, you are extremely beautiful. But that attribute you have is expedient to Durgesh and yourself, not to mine.”
“Then?” Kħadījah Muħammad laughed cunningly.
“I’m not working with that bastard, Muħammad Ůsmān, a blot to the great name of Ħazrat Ůsmān bin Åffān razī Allāhu tålā ånahu, in my own individual capacity. I’m doing it for an international organization: ‘Jet Musalmān Beauties Squad’.”
Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm laughed too.
“You aren’t deceiving Durgesh even a bit.”
“What do you mean?”
“Durgesh isn’t imprudent enough not to understand who is masterminding it all actually.”
“Not I, Vallāh.”
“Wrong again. Idiot, try to concentrate on the cold and hard facts. Pitr’shrī knew Durgesh loved me more, not Saiyadah Fātimah PhD. I too loved Durgesh not any less than Saiyadah Fātimah PhD loved him. Yet, Pitr’shrī wanted Saiyadah Fātimah PhD must be Durgesh’s legal wife, not I. Why?”
“So what?” Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm asked belligerently, “Even if so, what’s wrong in it?”
“Musalmīn?” Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm, the Omani Årab Musalmān lioness, thundered, “You call them Musalmīn? Most of them aren’t Panjvaqtah Namāzī. Most of them haven’t studied Al Qur’an Al Karīm ever. Most of them haven’t gone through Aħādīs-e-muqaddasāt even. And you call them Musalmīn. Haha. They aren’t Musalmīn. They are Pseudo Musalmīn. I damn care what they bark about me. The hell with them.”
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
The gun imh 59786 was still in my hand.
The condition was now under control.
I pushed the catch of the .22 HVSI revolver.
It released the cylinder.
I swung out the cylinder and said,
“One empty cartridge case in the cylinder.”
I watched her cunningly.
“How can you say that? Neither you know her, nor I.”
“Isn’t it obvious? Damn it.” Dr. Ħāfizah Kalām-e-Pāk said angrily, “Thanks Allah, ACP Suraiyā Jamāl is herself a Musalmān lady. My employer is being framed because she is against terrorists and Criminal/ Criminal Minded Pseudo Musalmīn. I demand protection for her.”
“We Musalmān Beauties call you ‘Durgesh darling, méré Hindu Piyā, Hindu Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt, hum Musalmān ħasīnāon ké Hindu Kħasam, Hindu husband of us Musalmān Beauties!’ Don’t we?” ACP Suraiyā Jamāl said furiously, “You are already fucking her. Don’t you? Now go ahead and protect her from the Criminal/ Criminal Minded Pseudo Musalmīn. They are trying to frame her because she is promoting Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club being a major shareholder there.”
“How do you know I won’t?” I myself asked furiously.
Both of them looked at each other.
Then relaxed somewhat, they both tried to smile,
“Sorry.” They said simultaneously.
“Let’s assume someone planted this revolver here really to frame Nauhīd Niyāzī.”
“She isn’t Nauhīd Niyāzī.” Dr. Ħāfizah Kalām-e-Pāk immediately said, “She is Shaguftah Rashīd. I don’t know why you are calling her suddenly now Nauhīd Niyāzī. What do you think; I don’t know my employer even?”
She extended her right hand to me once more.
I looked questioningly at her.
“These are two other passports I found here more.”
Dr. Ħāfizah Kalām-e-Pāk smiled.
“One of them must be my passport.”
“What if even your doubt is right?” Dr. Ħāfizah Kalām-e-Pāk smiled indifferently, “Jet Musalmān Beauties Squad of Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan isn’t any organization of us Musalmān Beauties that is terrorist, Criminal/ Criminal Minded. Jet Musalmān Beauties Squad is an organization of us Musalmān Beauties that is devoted to educate ourselves as high as we can. We hate crime unconditionally. It’s included in the constitution of Jet Musalmān Beauties Squad never to compromise with the terrorists, Criminal/ Criminal Minded Pseudo Musalmīn. Any soft corner for any of them, if proven, terminates the membership of Jet Musalmān Beauties Squad. What’s wrong in its membership?”*
“I’ve never hidden any fact about my present or past.” Dr. Ħāfizah Kalām-e-Pāk said righteously, “Not from either government of India, government of Saůūdī Årab, nor even from my employer, Shaguftah Rashīd.”
“The name of your employer according to her passport is Nauhīd Niyāzī.”
“I doubt it can’t be her passport.” Dr. Ħāfizah Kalām-e-Pāk denied it contemptuously, “Aren’t you jumping on conclusions, ACP Suraiyā Jamāl? Shouldn’t you be more patient and more investigating instead of jumping on baseless conclusions?”
“The charge was never proven against me.” Dr. Ħāfizah Kalām-e-Pāk said bitterly, “You must know it as well, as you know that I was prosecuted on the charge.”
“Yes, why not? Certainly.” Dr. Ħāfizah Kalām-e-Pāk said fearlessly, “Only I wasn’t expelled from Saůūdī Årab ever. I left Saůūdī Årab after my trial there, on my own accord. Being a Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān yourself, I don’t need to tell you that not only in Saůūdī Årab, in entire Pseudo Islamic Countries as well, once a suspect is always a suspect. Why should I risk my life in Saůūdī Årab if I could live freely in India as a citizen of Sultanate of Oman?”
“I see. How interesting it is however that you have the citizenship of the same country you were charged to be on payroll of.”
“You don’t know the present Sultan of Sultanate of Oman. Do you?”
“Certainly not, my dear, certainly not.” ACP Suraiyā Jamāl smiled tartly, “I’m only an ACP here, not even the Commissioner of Police. A friend and sālā of Durgesh, Muħammad Åbdullah has the honor. How can I know any Sultan of any Årab Sultanate, including the said Sultanate of Oman?”
“He is a very good man.”
Dr. Ħāfizah Kalām-e-Pāk was smiling patronizingly now.
“Shouldn’t I have?”
“Sure. The point I’m making is different somewhat however.”
I looked at Dr. Ħāfizah Kalām-e-Pāk.
She couldn’t provide me that information before.
But she is providing me the same now indirectly by cross-questioning Dr. Ħāfizah Kalām-e-Pāk herself.
Should I be more attentive to Dr. Ħāfizah Kalām-e-Pāk myself?
My basic policy was:
‘Be cautious, but never treat others as your enemy until their enmity to you isn’t proven beyond any doubt.
Never mistake making the others your enemy if they are not already, by doubting their honesty and sincerity to you.’
It was continuously being reported to me from various sources I had access to that, the present Sultan of Sultanate of Oman was a better human being than his contemporaries were.
He was reported to be even better than his own predecessors were.
At present, it had 167 members of the parliament.
Fifteen of them were women.
One hundred fifty two were males.
Not balanced very much.
Yes, but so were the other democratic parliaments even.
The old wood cabin was surrounded by darkness.
The shades were drawn.
A dog lay motionless on the front porch.
A thin stream of smoke flowed out of the chimney and headed north.
It was Makkah Mukarramah itself.
Dr. Ħāfizah Kalām-e-Pāk was not a doctor then.
She was Just eighteen Just adult.
Sitting silently in front of the fireplace, Ħāfizah Kalām-e-Pāk was shoving stacks of paper into the hot flames.
Damn Yazīd Malåūn.
He destroyed the great Islamic revolution only because his clan hated the clan of Ħuzūrs.
In his over enthusiasm to establish Islamic morals and discipline Saifullah Ħazrat Kħālid bin Walīd razī Allāhu tålā ånahu didn’t Ħazrat Ůmar Fārūq, Fārūq-e-Åāzamrzu, actually unknowingly encouraged Ħazrat Muåāwiyahrzu?
Durgesh says John Elray is wrong that Ħazrat Ůmar Fārūqrzu couldn’t forget the ancestral rivalry with the clan of Saifullah Ħazrat Kħālid bin Walīd razī Allāhu tålā ånahu.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan watched me scrutinizing.
“There are some persons who say even you don’t understand the Islamic movement of Ħuzūrs.”
“Well, they might be right.”
“What?” my duly married wife, Saiyadah Fātimah PhD, looked at me curtly.
I smiled teasing them.
“Once a humane always a humane.”
“Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan never cared to get your appreciation.” Saiyadah Fātimah PhD said, still curtly to me, “Kħadījah Muħammad and I always cared for childishly. The result is we failed and Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is succeeding.”*
I looked at Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah.
“We Hindus are not tired of you Musalmān Beauties. Neither we are ever afraid of terrorists and Criminal/ Criminal Minded Musalmīn. You know it very well. The conspiracies of Muħammad Ůsmān are not proven still now.”
I controlled myself.
Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah said again.
“We’ve tried to be civilized about the thing. I knew you think we Musalmān Beauties are unduly, unjustifiably, harsh on our Musalmān mankind. You think we enjoy them punishing unduly when we get support from you Hindus. Why don’t you understand they deserve it?”
“What do you want Durgesh?”
“Stop humiliating Musalmīn until they aren’t proven guilty.”
“Your sense of justice―”
“Unjustified? Impractical? Unreasonable?”
“You must peruse Dr. Ali Sina and his co-authors at faith freedom.org more attentively.”
“I’ve studied Al Qur’an Al Karīm and Aħādīs-e-muqaddasāt myself. I’ve studied Al Tārīkħ Al Islam too deeply. I’m sorry to say I don’t agree with Dr. Ali Sina and his co-authors at faith freedom.org absolutely.”
“We Musalmān Beauties ourselves don’t agree with Dr. Ali Sina and his co-authors at faith freedom.org absolutely.” Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah said, “Yet he and his co-authors are not absolutely incorrect. Are they?”
“But the activities of the Musalmīn they discuss so fearlessly are entirely correct. Aren’t they?”
“I never said that.”
“Yet you never stopped favoring them.” Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah charged me, “You think Muħammad Ůsmān maybe innocent. Well, if he is innocent why the hell he is maintaining so many households in different Pseudo Islamic Countries as well as in the other countries too?”
I looked at her gravely.
“You really don’t know?”
“What do you mean?”*
I looked at Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah gravely.
Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah said curtly,
“Yes. There are so many other Pseudo Musalmīn too. The bastards pretend they marry only four Musalmān wives. But they never tell anyone that they maintain so many households in different Pseudo Islamic Countries as well as in the other countries too. In every household they have their different set of four Musalmān wives.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think we Hindus and you Musalmān Beauties haven’t left another alternative for them except to resort to it. What the Pseudo Musalmīn can do? Their Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān wives hate them because they aren’t ultra-modern, sophisticated and well educated. Sooner or later they join either my bed or the bed of other powerful and capable Hindus that can take care of them perfectly and protect them from their incompetent Pseudo Musalmīn husbands.”
Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah looked at me patiently.
“Working for our Jet Musalmān Beauties Squad, we adopt various pretenses to reach the appropriate Jet Musalmān Beauty. We have an assigned territory. I too have. I pretended to have a series of books that are designed to give the newly wed, and still unwed, Musalmān Beauties how to deal with an orthodox Musalmān husband and ultramodern Hindu lover simultaneously.”
“The books are so cleverly arranged that there is really no age limit.”
“Not even just eighteen to thirty you call Jet?”
“Not even just eighteen to thirty we call Jet.”
“You aren’t taking optimum interest.”
“You are mistaken.”
“Nonsense. He is already cuckolded. He can’t even imagine taking any risk that his videos of cuckolded life style be released at the movie theaters and multiplexes of Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club, Ashvinātam Gangbang Club, Jet Musalmān Beauties Squad etcetera.”
Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah looked at me harshly.
“Jet Musalmān Beauties Squad of Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan gives us members all sorts of sides helps, does advertising and secures lists of live prospects so that we don’t have to waste our time in fruitless door to door canvassing. These prospects are sent in at the rate of about ten a day. Sometimes they mail them in, sometimes they telephone them.”
“What is a live prospect?” I asked.
“Ruqayyah Muħammad Åbdullah Bājī and Muħammad Ůsmān have a very nice house. They have some spare rooms as well as a guesthouse. Every spare room has its own washbowl and toilet. Yet, it also has a connection with the downstairs bath. Now, listen to me carefully, Durgesh, it’s very important.”
I nodded gravely.
“I’m listening to, don’t worry. Muħammad Ůsmān is not my responsibility. Ruqayyah Muħammad Åbdullah and you are my responsibilities. If Muħammad Ůsmān is really planning some conspiracy against anyone of you both, it’s my responsibility to protect both of you.”
“Thank you.” Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah sighed somewhat assured now, “Muħammad Ůsmān never liked me. Yet on the persistent insistence of Ruqayyah Muħammad Åbdullah Bājī sometimes I have to stay with her even at night, you know.”
“Muħammad Ůsmān is away from home a lot.” Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah went on, “He claims he is some kind of a business sharpshooter. Ruqayyah Muħammad Åbdullah Bājī has always been rather indefinite about what he himself does. Despite Ruqayyah Muħammad Åbdullah Bājī inquiring him so many times, Muħammad Ůsmān never told her his true whereabouts. Anyhow Muħammad Ůsmān travels a lot.”
“Muħammad Ůsmān travels a lot.” Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah nodded, “and makes investments. He has misappropriated Ruqayyah Muħammad Åbdullah Bājī’s money already to the extent that now he always seems to have plenty of money. Even then, I’ve never been able to find out exactly what my ever shrewd ever Criminal/ Criminal Minded brother in law does.”
I kissed Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah.
She was on her back now.
Her nude magnificent legs were on my shoulders.
“It was necessary.” I said gravely, “You both had cuckolded him despite my persistent objections. He is shrewd. I had to put some shadow on him to know of his whereabouts.”
Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah smiled,
“His newly married fourth wife, Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās?”
I smiled too.
“None whatsoever. Yet, you put one more shadow on him, his secretary Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm. Didn’t you?”
“He is too shrewd to be shadowed by only his new fourth wife.”*
Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm put a suitcase down, and then she rushed to me, put her arms around my neck and kissed me on my lips.
“This is the suitcase?” I asked.
“This is the suitcase.” Naushād Åzīz Ibrāhīm chuckled mischievously.
Kħadījah Muħammad laughed.
I laughed sarcastically.
“I don’t know. I haven’t studied about your Sāħir Ludhiyānvī ever so minutely.”
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
I hadn’t another alternative.
Ħāfizah Kalām-e-Pāk was right.
To hell with every ethics whatsoever.
A human life is more important than everything is, including ethics too.
That’s what even Hinduism believes in.
Why otherwise Lord Vishñu had deceived his sisters in law, his Salhajs, Vr’ndā and Tulsī and made love to them?
Wasn’t it to save humanity from the totalitarians Shankhchūđ and Jalandhar?
Who says it was incest?
No, it wasn’t incest.
It was not done to fulfill his own male animal desires at all.
Why did Lord Rām kill Vāli hiding behind a tree?
Why did Lord Kr’shñ made Yudhishŧhir to lie that Ashvatthāmā had been killed?
Hinduism never had impractical ethics detrimental to humanity.
Yet, even then, I was careful enough not to forget there might be movie/ video cameras and/or other devices to frame us, all the three of us.
She was already busy in searching the surroundings with a fine-toothed comb.
How pleasant it is to have an utmost competent police officer with you to assist you when you need very much.
Even in her unconsciousness, Shaguftah Rashīd had spread her legs as if inviting me to make love to her.
I approached Shaguftah Rashīd between her legs.
How beautiful she was.
I was already hardened abundantly.
Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā had given me everything I needed ever quite in abundance.
They smiled as if wishing me ‘best of luck’, as well as success in saving Shaguftah Rashīd’s life.
Shaguftah Rashīd smiled in unconsciousness as if enjoying it very much herself.
I didn’t know what her own reaction would be that I made love to her to save her life, after gaining consciousness.*
Even though it was abundant now that Musalmān Beauties were themselves wooing Hindu men to have sex with them, having their own lavish reasons, I couldn’t deny the fact that so many of them changed their tune after enjoying Uncut Hindu Prick to their hearts’ content.
And why shouldn’t they?
Pseudo Islam was a communal and imperialist movement.
It vanished entirely to the hilt.
I kissed unconscious Shaguftah Rashīd feeling completely content now.*
Well, why shouldn’t I?
But why can’t I enjoy it as well?
To hell with the impractical moralists, unreasonable moralizers, unrealistic preachers, unfeasible critics, unworkable philosophers, unrealistic puritans, impractical saints, and impractical prudes, if they criticize me on it.
Most of them had only thought of it.
They never experienced it.
I started fucking Shaguftah Rashīd passionately and wildly rather.
Being an utmost successful Sex Therapist I knew she needed it.
Even in her unconsciousness, Shaguftah Rashīd was not only enjoying my passionate Hindu sex kicks very much, she was also cooperating with me, rather responding my passionate Hindu sex kicks even more passionately and more wildly.
She had already put her legs on my shoulders.
“Well, Durgesh darling, I think you would like to see it.”
She was also busy in searching the surroundings.
It was a passport however.
It was Nauhīd Niyāzī.*
Before I could pull myself together, Dr. Ħāfizah Kalām-e-Pāk also twisted at me and extended a gun to me.
It was fully embedded into her.
“I’ve found it in her dressing drawer.” Dr. Ħāfizah Kalām-e-Pāk said gravely.
She waved the gun at me.
“Durgesh darling,” Dr. Ħāfizah Kalām-e-Pāk said curtly, “I’m quite certain it’s one of the guns Imām Muħammad Ħasan keeps at Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club for the protection of his Musalmān Beauties and Hindu male members from the terrorists and Pseudo Musalmīn.”
There wasn’t any indication on Nauhīd Niyāzī’s extremely beautiful face that she was conscious at all and understanding how incriminating evidences both ACP Suraiyā Jamāl and Dr. Ħāfizah Kalām-e-Pāk had found against her.
“How do you know?” I asked Dr. Ħāfizah Kalām-e-Pāk taking the gun from her hand.
I had wrapped a handkerchief however before taking the gun from the hand of Dr. Ħāfizah Kalām-e-Pāk.
Dr. Ħāfizah Kalām-e-Pāk looked at me gravely.
“I have seen the guns Imām Muħammad Ħasan keeps there.”
“You are also a member of Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club as your employer is?”
“Of course, and I also own quite a stock of shares there too.”
“I see.” I started fucking Nauhīd Niyāzī once again.
However, I wasn’t certain even now that her real name was Nauhīd Niyāzī.
It was never possible if her real name was not Shaguftah Rashīd.
Ved Nagar was not only what it appeared to be ostensibly.
It wasn’t easy to pull wool on the eyes of the security authorities of Ved Nagar.
I watched the gun in my hand.
It was a .22 caliber HVSI revolver, more beautiful, yet similarly more dangerous, than a similar Smith and Wesson revolver.
It was stamped with a number in its metal, imh 59786.
The number evidenced that the gun was made on the special order from Imām Muħammad Ħasan, imh was its proof.
Dr. Ħāfizah Kalām-e-Pāk might telling the truth.
The gun was of a special make exclusively made for Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club.*
Kħadījah Muħammad and I could hear the rapid click clack… click clack… click clack of heels in the corridor.
Kħadījah Muħammad was in her rukū and I was fucking her once more from her behind.
I indicated to Kħadījah Muħammad to open the door.
She did it gravely.
Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah smiled at both of us.
“Thank you so much for waiting, Durgesh, I’m sorry I’m late. I just couldn’t make it any sooner.”
I looked at Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah over carefully and said,
Kħadījah Muħammad smiled too.
“Well, Durgesh has just cum into me. You may take over, if you want to.”
“Hey, thank you. Thank you very much. I never thought you’d be so nice.”
I pulled Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah in my arms.
“Yes, and that’s why she is successful now in eliminating the age old kingdom of Al Saåūds from Saůūdī Årab. Even on the pathway of establishing Democracy everywhere in entire Pseudo Islamic Countries.”
“You too appreciate Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan?”
“You are right.” Kħadījah Muħammad smiled.
“Thank you. However there is some difference between the ways Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and I imitate you.”
“Allah, you both are trying to make me something more than I myself feel to be.” Kħadījah Muħammad tried to be modest.
“I appreciate your modesty.” Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah said, “However, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan imitates you blindly while I tried to do something more you didn’t, yet Durgesh deserved to be done with.”
“Hey you two! What the hell you think I am?”
“The greatest Hindu lover of us Musalmān Beauties in the entire history of humanity. Kħadījah Muħammad raped you when she met you first. But I kidnapped you first, and then raped you.” Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah winked at both of us.
“Thank you.” Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah kissed me back gratefully, as if highly indebted to me.
I myself undressed Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah and then I started fucking her.
“You are most welcome.” Kħadījah Muħammad smiled at her big heartedly, “He is fucking me nonstop for hours. I wanted some time to breathe myself. You are an Allahdād opportunity.”
“I notice you’re breathless and excited. How about some juice, or even some drink if you prefer?”
Kħadījah Muħammad smiled.
“That’s what I thought.”
“I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you for it.”
“It’s alright. Go ahead and enjoy. What’s the problem anyway?”
Now, Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah was herself wet too.
Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah had pushed her extremely beautiful glorious gorgeous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān buttocks into my male Hindu lap and was enjoying my Uncut Hindu Cock entirely vanished into her eagerly responsive Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān vaginal depths.
“Go ahead. Nothing to worry. Tell me everything. Dump it to me and forget it.”*
Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah smiled.
“Well, you know, Ruqayyah Muħammad Åbdullah Bājī and I started the Ruqayyah Fātimah Flower Shops. That was before Ruqayyah Muħammad Åbdullah Bājī was married. We each had half of the stock except a small block of five shares. We gave it to Nafīsah Salmān Ammī. I’ve always liked her. Nafīsah Salmān Ammī is rather naïve. But her shrewd daughter Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan full of endless tact now has managed to pick up the five shares of stock that we had given to Nafīsah Salmān Ammī.”
“And you think Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan wants to pry in your business?”
“I thought so at the time.” Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah said bitterly, “When your JetMusalmān Beauties Queen, your utmost dearest Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, the entirely shameless nudist feminist, the new everfirst President of Saůūdī Årab, handed over the stock for transfer, she joked about being a silent partner. But I think there’s something far more sinister back of it.”
I kissed Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah passionately, pulled my Uncut Hindu Cock out of her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt, till only its head remained inside between her ravenous quivering labial lips, squeezed her boobs and then thrust my Uncut Hindu Cock all the way inside wildly.
She jumped on her back enjoying the miraculous Hindu sex kicks very much.
Her legs were on my nude Hindu shoulders and I was on top of her between her beautiful legs.
Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah smiled her indebtedness to me, thanking me with her extremely beautiful eyes.
She kissed me passionately responding my loving Hindu attacks.
“She is very dangerous, Durgesh.”
“Not to my women.”
“Okay, relax now. Forget her. Leave Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan to me. I’d tell her not to interfere with you anymore.”
Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah made a little gesture.
It was more expressive than words.
“The bastard manages my sister’s money.”
“Not any more, dear.”
“He doesn’t need to.” Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah said bitterly.
“What do you mean?”
“I think Muħammad Ůsmān isn’t a fool enough to wait indefinitely. As soon as her plan to kill Ruqayyah Muħammad Åbdullah Bājī, in that accident, backfired he went to his other alternative. He has already done he wanted to do. Ruqayyah Muħammad Åbdullah Bājī, in my opinion, has already lost her stock.”
Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah watched me apprehensively.
“What do you want to say, Durgesh? I should forget he staged that accident? Ruqayyah Muħammad Åbdullah Bājī would have died in it if her subconscious mind hadn’t received my warnings and acted accordingly.”
“That’s right. But we haven’t any evidence that it had been staged by Muħammad Ůsmān.”
“Do you want to say that he is innocent?”
“No, certainly not. We haven’t any evidence either that he is innocent even.”
“We must be cautious. Yet, we must not forget that even Muħammad Ůsmān maybe innocent.”
“I don’t think so.” Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah said curtly.
“Now she is.”
“Now.” Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah said bitterly. “Muħammad Ůsmān is himself not a damnfool. He still flatters Ruqayyah Muħammad Åbdullah Bājī and complains that we have punished him unjustifiably. We haven’t given him even any benefit of doubt.”
“Well, I myself told you so when you both the sisters were adamant to cuckold him.”
“Now, think, if Muħammad Ůsmān turns out innocent, how would we face him?”
Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah laughed ironically.
“I appreciate his daring and patience, however.”
“What do you mean?”
“Even now, when we’ve cuckolded him, Muħammad Ůsmān acts righteous. He says Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s ‘Cuckold Your Musalmān husband’ movement has blinded us both more than even you are. Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is your living sex goddess, yet you still don’t support Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan blindly. You still give Musalmīn the benefit of doubt that most of us Musalmān Beauties even don’t.”
“I agree with him.”
“Nonsense! Muħammad Ůsmān understands the attentions women crave. You know how it is with a Musalmān when his Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān wife has money, as Ruqayyah Muħammad Åbdullah Bājī has. It isn’t a shame for Musalmīn they learn it eagerly.”
“And that solves our problem?” Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah smiled ironically.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Not yet.” I smiled impishly.
“Ouch! What are you doing?” I moaned.
“Stop acting impish when you fuck me.”
“Are you really sixty three?”
“What do you mean?”
“When I kidnapped you, you were only thirty one and I was twenty eight.”
“I contradicted you even then.”
“I have checked your entire electoral record, income tax record, sale tax record etcetera. You were born on 2nd February 1979.”
“Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan has managed to change my entire papers everywhere.”
“No one believes you. You lack to provide optimum evidence for it.”
“What do you want to say, I’m thirty three only?”
“That’s what your every record in India proves, and even your record elsewhere.”
“Ask Kħadījah Muħammad when she raped me.”
“Isn’t she crazy for you enough, to vouch for everything you say?”
“Well?” I looked at Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah tartly.
I gritted my teeth.
Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah laughed.
“Only because I’m thirty?”
“I’ve told you the other activities from you already, haven’t I?”
She winked at me.
“I would have cheerfully if Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan were not using it for her political purposes.”
“I don’t believe you. Peruse what Dr. Ali Sina and his co-authors write on faith freedom.org. When you prove them wrong we Musalmān Beauties would accept the Pseudo Musalmīn are not punishable by ‘Cuckold Your Musalmān husband’ movement of Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan. Never before it. Muħammad Ůsmān isn’t a moderate Musalmān because, there doesn’t exist any moderate Musalmān.”
“According to Dr. Ali Sina.”
“According to facts, damn it. Don’t tell me now that you Hindus are now tired of us Musalmān Beauties. I can’t believe even you Hindus are now afraid of Pseudo Musalmīn terrorists, Criminals/ Criminal Minded persons.”
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Durgesh Nūrjahān Ghayās Beg
Salīm Jalāluddīn Muħammad
It was a blustery, a stormy night.
Kħadījah Muħammad was lying on her back.
Kħadījah Muħammad smiled.
“Stop it Naåīmah, it’s enough now.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan teased her.
The rain was pelting against the windows at intervals.
Wind howled around the cornices and fought its way through the narrow openings in the windows to billow, to swell, the lace curtains of our bedroom into weird shapes.
It alternately blossomed into white ghosts, collapsed, and dropped limply back against the casements.
My thrusts into Kħadījah Muħammad’s still amazingly ever tight Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt were as wild as there was some competition between the storm outside and my penetrations inside.
Kħadījah Muħammad groped for the ringing telephone.
The instrument momentarily eluded her passion intoxicated fingers.
Kħadījah Muħammad advanced the receiver to me as she was unable to attend the phone due to passion.
“Hello, Durgesh here.”
It was a man’s voice that answered me questioning,
“Yes, who is it?”
“It’s Salīm Jalāluddīn Muħammad.”
“Yes, Mr. Salīm Jalāluddīn Muħammad, what can I do for you?”
“It’s a matter of life and death. Can you see us immediately?”
“Yes, my wife is also with me.”
“You are sure it’s a matter of life and death?”
“Of course, man. Why have otherwise I called you in this rainy and stormy night?”*
They were also listening to the conversation.
The phone was on its loudspeaker now.
“Can you tell me something more, Salīm Jalāluddīn Muħammad?”
“Sorry, I’d prefer to give you any information about it when we are face to face, not on phone.”
“Well, you know there are so many communal Musalmīn who can do anything to kill me. I fuck their Musalmān houseladies under my Durgesh Åāýéshah Siddīqah Social Service, DurgeshFarīdah Jalāl SheikħSex Therapy , or Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s five movements: Cuckold Your Musalmān husband Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club Ashvinātam Gangbang Club Al Jihād fil Durgesh fī sabīlillāh JetMusalmān BeautiesSquad. How can I differentiate my enemies from you?”
“Propose any method that we can follow.”
“Come to Dārussalām itself.”
“No problem, Sir. We need you. You don’t need us.”
“How many adult women you have, sacrificing their sanctity for you, genetically related to you?”
“Enough to cure me, Doctor Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ has advised me.”
“Your real sisters?”
“Yes, and Chachāzād cousins too. They also have the same genes as I do.”
“Well, does it make any difference?”
“Yes, most of them are married, but not all of them.”
“You are ready to lick our juices after I fuck them?”
“I haven’t another option.”
“Okay. You understand that everyone of your real sisters and Chachāzād cousins would be thoroughly checked by none other than Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ herself to verify she doesn’t have any sexual disease whatsoever?”
“Sure. Dr. Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ has told me so.”
It was not so always, however, for Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan.
She was born in Makkah Mukarramah but she was taken to Palestine not even so many days after it.
In the life of Årabs, whether males or females, the repetition of stories was a way of life.
It was unusual in an Årab Society for a female child to be entitled to her Ammī’s breasts as long as she wanted to.
It was only a privilege reserved mostly for male children.
It seems very unjust, but how could a backward society that still refused to understand that the world had gone too far ahead from the circumstances that occurred 1400 years ago, could understand the children of both the sex have equal needs for their growth?
Not everyone could be Ħuzūrs.
Hes fought for the fundamental rights of women too.
The equal rights to suck her mother’s breasts was too farfetched, the female children were denied even their fundamental right of survival when Ħuzūrs came as Muħsin-e-Insāniyat.
Hes stopped the burial of female children of Årabs alive.
Yes, hes was Muħsin-e-Insāniyats, but hes was Muħsin-e-Niswān more.
The present day Musalmīn had absolutely forgotten now this revolutionary work of their Nabī Ākħiruzzamāns.
They remembered only the aħādīs-e-Muqaddasāt of their own relevance.
Wasn’t it a dominant human nature whether male or female?
Yet, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was the extraordinary lucky girl.
She was not weaned until her fifth birthday.
Usually it signalled, even for a boy, that he was coming out of the kitchen.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan behaved as if she was a boy.
Instead being angry her Abbū Imām Muħammad Ħasan laughed at her boyish activities.
He enjoyed them very much.
Even Nafīsah Salmān was surprised.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan never allowed others to break any custom of the clan.
Yet, the little she devil, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, was an exception.
Wasn’t it surprising?*
Yes, he was Mukħtār of Tabah, Palestine.
But he was already defeating the other Mukħtārs in Palestine, in popularity and knowledge both.
He was the highest educated man among all the Mukħtārs.
Nafīsah Salmān had great breasts.
Not only were they filled with milk, but they gave Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan a place too where she could nestle and feel an enormous comfort.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan managed to learn many things even in that age about the world of men.
She was eight years old only.
One day, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan could not find her Ammī.
Being a girl of only eight years, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan‘s only chore was fetching water.
She used to fetch water with her Ammī every day.
Now, her Ammī had gone, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was greeted with taunts.
The women all cackled and laughed at Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan.
The women told her that her father was going to take a second wife.
“Nonsense,” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan had protested, “Abbū will never do such a thing.”
“The foolish child thinks Imām Muħammad Ħasan can be something else than a typical Årab Palestinian Mukhtar.” One of the women smiled at the rest of the women, “No education can change the bloody Årabs. They are stubbornly backward and they want to remain so.”
“Why education only?” Sāliħah Ħanīf said tartly, “even Allah Subħān Wa tålā has ordered:
‘‘Wa in kħiftum allā tuqsitū filyatāmā fa inkiħū mā tāb lakumminannisāi masnā wa sulās wa rubāå.
Aw mā malkat aymānukum
Zālik adnā allā tåūlū.’
‘And if you fear that you cannot act equitably towards orphans, then marry such women as seem good to you, two and three and four;
But if you fear that you will not do justice then (marry) only one or what your right hands possess.
This is more proper, that you may not deviate from the right course.’
-̶ Al Qur’ān Al Karīm: 4 An Nisā: 3”
Raziyah Waħīd smiled skeptically.
“The Årab bastards don’t see other words in this Āyat-e-Karīmah except ‘fa inkiħū…rubāå’ ‘then marry four’.”
All of them laughed.
Some of them even threw stones at Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan.
They were jealous of her.
However, most of them enjoyed a Hindu lover, either clandestinely or else.
It was owned by him and his younger brother, Muħammad Åbbās Yåqūb.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan spent most of his day there.
He brushed Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan aside, walking on.
He used to hide his love for Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan so that the other Årabs don’t ridicule him.
Now, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan wondered how she thought it was normal.
What a rotten society actually it was where even a loving father couldn’t express his love for his daughter.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan had marched to his Abbū, even then, and tugged at his coat.
It was a tug barely strong enough to demand his attention.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan turned to her quite surprised.
“You? Naåīmah ? What are you doing here? Go to the home.”
“I want to see you at work. Ammī says you are the most important man here.”
Imām Muħammad Ħasan was suddenly proud of himself.
He had also thought of the opposition of the local illiterate, or at least, almost illiterate Årabs.
He had anticipated their opposition.
Yet, he had vowed to go on despite it.
Why not Imām Muħammad Ħasan too?
He smiled at his daughter.
“Okay. Come with your Abbū.”
Originally, he had decided to grab Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan by her arm and shake her so violently that she would even think she might faint.
Then he would toss Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan like garbage so that she would land in the open sewer that ran down from the top of the town.
It was a half block’s walk from the parking lot.
Dr. Āsiyah Mustafā’s twenty fifth-floor suite of offices was now not far away.
It was just across the elevated railway.
The drizzle was light this morning.
Even then, it was enough to saturate Nūrjahān Gayās Beg’s jaunty green rain hat and similarly green raincoat.
Nūrjahān Gayās Beg removed her soggy rain gear in the hall, going toward Dr. Āsiyah Mustafā’s suite.
She paused briefly at the ladies room to see if the hat had messed her neat bobbed brown hair.
It had, indeed.
Nūrjahān Gayās Beg patted her hair into place.
She took off her tinted green-rimmed prescription glasses she used for driving.
Nūrjahān Gayās Beg wiped them dry.
She tucked them into her bag and headed for her appointment with Salīm Jalāluddīn Muħammad’s absolutely competent physician.
The reception room was tastefull.
The fabrics on the furniture were all a restful pale green.
Once inside, Nūrjahān Gayās Beg hung her hat and coat on the wooden coatrack.
She went directly to the red haired receptionist behind the counter.
Nūrjahān Gayās Beg smiled.
She knew once a Tanzānian girl was appointed in her staff.
Dr. Āsiyah Mustafā almost immediately transferred her to her Tanzanian Branch office.
“Right on time, I hope.”
“Oh, yes. But I’m afraid the doctor is running a few minutes behind. She’ll be with you shortly. I know she is eager to see you. If you don’t mind taking a seat―”
“Not at all.”
“By the way, how is Mr. Salīm Jalāluddīn Muħammad?”
“Still somewhat weak, but well enough to go to the office every morning and work a half day.”
“I’m glad to hear that. He is such a wonderful young man. One of the most charming perhaps I’ve ever met. We wish Mr. Salīm Jalāluddīn Muħammad the best, Miss Beg.”
Receptionist Zohrah Maħmūd Pasha smiled.
Nūrjahān Gayās Beg was really majestic.
Receptionist Zohrah Maħmūd Pasha had flattered about Salīm Jalāluddīn Muħammad.
Her own sincere observation of Salīm Jalāluddīn Muħammad was that he was a damnfool.
He didn’t deserve Nūrjahān Gayās Beg’s so much attention as he was luckily getting.
Being a receptionist it was her duty to please everyone who came here whether Zohrah Maħmūd Pasha really liked him or her or not.
It was an honor for Zohrah Maħmūd Pasha to work for the world- prominent legendary Dr. Āsiyah Mustafā.
“Thank you.” Nūrjahān Gayās Beg said, taking a magazine from the wall rack, any magazine, in this case a medical magazine.
Sitting, settling back, Nūrjahān Gayās Beg thumbed through it.
Pharmaceutical ads were on every page.
Most of the Musalmīn don’t know why the impotence comes to a man and how it can be defeated.
Consequently, they aren’t aware of it when its symptoms appear.
Neither they are careful to cure it immediately.
Instead, being immensely ashamed of themselves they almost always try to hide it.
It results ultimately in their absolute incurability.
Nūrjahān Gayās Beg had no patience for it.
She kept the periodical open on her lap, but blankly stared through it.
Zohrah Maħmūd Pasha was extremely charming in doing so.
She felt herself cheated.
Sex, sex and sex.
Her lover was crazy to have sex with her.
Nūrjahān Gayās Beg felt very happy first.
But how much she could have after all?
Suddenly Nūrjahān Gayās Beg found she was pregnant.
Her lover proposed a permanent Live in Relationship.
Nūrjahān Gayās Beg was indignant.
She wanted nikāħ.
Her lover didn’t agree.
She ended her affair with her lover permanently.
Yet, she gave birth to a very handsome male child.
Salīm Jalāluddīn Muħammad knew all of it.
Yet he was ready to marry Nūrjahān Gayās Beg even keeping her son with them.
Nūrjahān Gayās Beg at thirty was trim, thanks to her tennis game.
She was comely and fair, brown eyes wide set, a broad tip-tilted nose, a generous rosy mouth, a svelte figure, abundant bosom, shapely legs.
And a brain as fine as it was competent.
Strangers were always surprised to learn that Nūrjahān Ghayās Beg was a well-paid, full time clinical psychologist, dividing her crowded days between carefully limited private practice and an associate professor’s post.
Her interest in psychology had been inspired by reading Alfred Adler at an early age.
Her role model had been the psychoanalyst, Karen Horney.
Psychoanalyst Karen Horney was the greatest woman in the field.
Nūrjahān Ghayās Beg wanted to serve at University of Chicago originally.
The famed John B. Watson had got his PhD at the University of Chicago.
Moreover, Carl Rogers had once been director of the University of Chicago Counseling Centre.
Why shouldn’t she have?
She always remembered her lover.
But her ego had hurt and she always decided not to return to her lover ever.
Yes, he was the father of her son.
But Salīm Jalāluddīn Muħammad had promised to fill his place as efficiently as he could.
She had sex with her lover daily without any exception.
Sometimes even thrice a day.
Salīm Jalāluddīn Muħammad was normal in sex.
Nūrjahān Ghayās Beg was very disappointed but still she was adamant not to return to her lover.
Even if not experienced, Salīm Jalāluddīn Muħammad loved her more considerately than her lover did.
Suddenly, one early evening, in the midst of a handball game, Salīm Jalāluddīn Muħammad collapsed.
His one leg had given way, and he had folded up.
His thigh was causing him unremitting pain.
Nūrjahān Ghayās Beg was furious at her best friend, Sājidah Suhayl Kāzmī when she expressed her doubt,
“Stop it. You idiot, he isn’t even a Muslim.”
“All of them are after his money.” Nūrjahān Ghayās Beg charged every one of them, “Durgesh has money. He has multi zillions. Even his Live in Relationship Partners are millionaires at least. They are purchasing everyone.”
Sājidah Suhayl Kāzmī smiled ironically.
This had been less than six weeks ago.
Finally, the verdict was in.
A sarcoma, a bone cancer.
Nūrjahān Ghayās Beg was startled.
Deterioration of the bone tissue involving the head of the femur, or thigh.
They said gradually the disease would worsen.
Salīm Jalāluddīn Muħammad would lose mobility; require crutches, eventually a wheelchair.
Most likely, the cancer would be fatal.
She was holding the hall door open.
Nūrjahān Ghayās Beg clutched her beg.
She was on her feet and through the door.
Nūrjahān Ghayās Beg went down the short corridor.
She turned into the doctor’s private office.
It seemed a portent of some unhappiness.
Dr. Āsiyah Mustafā half rose from her chair.
“Miss Beg,” she said, and gestured her to a chair across from her desk.
Dr. Āsiyah Mustafā was one of those physicians whose very aspect inspired confidence.
“Miss Beg, I thought it best if we could talk face to face. I want to discuss Salīm’s surgery. I hope this sudden call didn’t inconvenience you.”
“Nothing is more important than Salīm’s surgery.”
“I know he told you about it, that it is the primary option we have.”
“Salīm told me a little. Just that there were no guarantees, but there was a fair chance, and that he was going to go through with it. I was glad he was going ahead. I encouraged it.”
She hesitated somewhat, then asked.
“What are his chances?”
Dr. Āsiyah Mustafā measured her words.
“With surgery, some. Without surgery, none. There is some advance work being done in this field, but I’m afraid it hasn’t come to fruition yet. Some years ago, I read a paper by a Dr. Ānand Siddhārth Mr’tyunjaý in Mumbai. He had evolved a new technique, surgery and implants coupled with genetic engineering. His experiments at that point were fully successful. But they had involved mammals other than human beings. I discussed this with several highly accredited local surgeons. They had also heard of Dr. Ānand Siddhārth Mr’tyunjaý’s progress. But they felt that it was not ready to be applied to human beings as yet. So, since time is of essence, we are left with the only surgery we know and can depend upon, standard bone surgery with replacement of the malignant portion of the femur. Sometimes it works successfully.”
“Sometimes.” Nūrjahān Ghayās Beg echoed dully.
“Let me be more precise.” Dr. Āsiyah Mustafā tried to smile, “, based on case histories of these surgeries. If undertaken right away, before there is more deterioration, Salīm Jalāluddīn Muħammad may have a thirty percent chance of getting rid of his cancer and being restored to normal life. But the fact remains, statistically, that there would also be a seventy percent chance of failure. Nevertheless, I repeat, there is no other choice but to go right ahead.”
“Well, when do we go ahead?”
Dr. Āsiyah Mustafā frowned.
“We don’t.” she said simply, “I had the surgery scheduled for this week, but now the operation has been cancelled.”
Nūrjahān Ghayās Beg was on the edge of her chair.
“For Allah’s sake, whyyyyyyyyyyyyy?”*
Mirzā Ghayās Beg looked at his daughter in perplexity.
“What do you mean?”
“They have ordered to take two American passports from our files without telling anyone.” Nūrjahān Ghayās Beg informed her Abbū tartly.
It was December 1978.
Thirty-three years had passed since, but Nūrjahān Ghayās Beg felt it happened as if yesterday.
She was fifty-two years old now.
Present government of Iran was not then in power.
Mirzā Ghayās Beg sighed.
“So Durgesh has once more anticipated correctly?”
“Abbū,” Nūrjahān Ghayās Beg looked at her Abbū sharply, “He always manages to have inside informations.”
“Yes,” Mirzā Ghayās Beg looked at her just eighteen, extremely beautiful daughter, Nūrjahān Ghayās Beg, “Durgesh always manages to have inside informations. But it’s never detrimental to our Ummat-e-Muslimah.”
“You just eighteen, kamsin kid, Durgesh is completely ten years older than you.”
Mirzā Ghayās Beg wasn’t surprised.
He knew his youngest daughter was not as westernized as her elder sisters were.
He couldn’t understand where he had failed.
All his four wives were highly westernized.
He himself believed in Western education.
He changed the subject.
“Two American passports? Any passports in particular?”
“Paul Chiapparone’s and Bill Gaylord’s.”
Bill was second in command and manager of their biggest project, the contract with the Ministry of Health, Iran.
He couldn’t believe when the exile of Ayatullah Rūħullah Mustafvī Kħomeinī had already turned the foolish uneducated/under educated Iranians against him, Shah Muħammad Rezā Pahalvī could take such a wrong step as to annoy his greatest protector, the President of USA, Jimmy Carter.
He had succeeded in fooling them cunningly.
His adviser, James Bill, believed that Ayatullah Rūħullah Mustafvī Kħomeinī was not a mad Mujāhid. Instead, he was a man of impeccable integrity and honesty.
How wrong James Bill was too.*
It looked good.
Given its placement, the whip drew the eyes to the curves of her gorgeous Musalmān breasts and added more visual appeal to the beautiful young woman.
“What?” I couldn’t believe I’d heard her right.
“Ghausiyah Muħammad Yåqūb, are you crazy?”
“Certainly not, Durgesh darling, méré Hindu Piyā, Hindu Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt, hum Musalmān ħasīnāon ké Hindu Kħasam, Hindu husband of us Musalmān Beauties! Instead, you are crazy who really believed I won’t fuck you.”
“Undress yourself and mount me.”
I hesitated somewhat.
“Don’t hesitate. Can’t you see? You’ve bound me on your bed. If I shout now, who wouldn’t believe that you are raping me?”
“I never thought you’d do it to me.”
The contrast of the black leather whip with the yellow-dominated pajama shirt also attracted my attention.
The result was that I gazed upon Ghausiyah Muħammad Yåqūb’s chest for far longer than was needed, and once I realized what I was doing, I felt myself excited to have sex myself with this Just eighteen Just adult Musalmān Beauty.
I stood and turned away from her in an attempt to hide my discomfort.
“It’s okay,” I heard her say softly, “Come on, fuck me. You don’t need to be embarrassed at all.”
Sure of what she meant now, I turned to face her again, even though I could still feel the heat of my lust for her.
“I don’t mind if you look at me, Durgesh darling, méré Hindu Piyā, Hindu Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt, hum Musalmān ħasīnāon ké Hindu Kħasam, Hindu husband of us Musalmān Beauties!” Muħammad Ålī’s Sister clarified smiling. “To be honest, I don’t mind if you even fuck me wildly. That’s what I really was after. Come on.”
Her expressive hazel eyes were full of truth and trust.
The truth was not a surprise, as the few times I could ever remember her lying to me was to protect a surprise she was preparing for me.
Yet the trust…
Her trust touched me deeply.
Her trust in me was the reason that she was bound to my bed at all, but the depth of her trust conveyed by her eyes…
Somehow, that trust gave me the strength I needed to reinvigorate my professionalism.
It was a bonding moment which transcended her physical bondage, one which I knew would cause her spirit to soar in that reaffirmation of the connection she and I had shared for more than twenty years.
Only then did I finally retrieve the movie camera and, put it at the foot of the bed, began to record the movie.
My Uncut Hindu Lund’s position was changed multiple times upon her chest and then later moved to her groin where it was also featured in multiple positions.
I lost track of time, my mind fully focused instead on the lighting, the camera position, occasionally giving her an instruction to create an even better pose for the movie camera.
And then, the camera set atop the dresser, I sat beside her on the bed again, retrieving my Uncut Hindu Lund and gently dangling its tip across her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Just eighteen Just adult Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān face.
Ghausiyah Muħammad Yåqūb smiled at the gesture, and that emboldened me as I dragged my Uncut Hindu Lund down her neck, down her chest, and repeatedly brushed it gently and slowly back and forth across her gorgeous Musalmān breasts.
Her eyes fluttered closed as her head tipped back upon the pillow, her arms pulling against the tethered cuffs, her back arching noticeably, her lips parting.
What I was doing to her was clearly more and more arousing for her, and even though she was Muħammad Ålī’s Sister, I felt a sense of pride in being able to give her such a unique, kinky pleasure.
I couldn’t preach her not to do it.
She would’ve gone to someone else.
Wasn’t that more dangerous?
Wasn’t it better to do it myself?
The gentle brushing of her gorgeous Musalmān breasts did not last very long ― maybe thirty seconds at most ― but when I finally set my Uncut Hindu Lund beside her on the bed, Muħammad Ålī’s Sister whimpered sadly, sounding very much like a puppy who wanted to be fed but had no one available to open a bag of dog food.
Glancing back to her chest, I noticed a pair of small indentations pressing against the inside of her pajama shirt.
“I guess that really did feel good for you,” I said softly, smiling with amusement.
“Yeah…” Her voice was breathy, sultry, and almost intimate.
She finally opened her eyes and looked up at me again, the trust still prominent within her hazel orbs.
“Can we do a few more pictures?” she asked.
“Sure,” I replied. “What did you have in mind?”
She hesitated slightly, which was again a significant sign and made me wonder exactly what she had in mind.
“Would you unbutton me and do a few with your Uncut Hindu Lund across my naked chest?”
I definitely had not expected that request, not from Ghausiyah Muħammad Yåqūb.
“Are you really sure you want me to fuck your…” I began, unable to complete the sentence as my mind attempted to reconcile her request with the deeply internalized norms of society.
“I’m sure,” she affirmed, adding a slow nod. “Just do titty-fuck me now, okay?”
Time seemed to again slow considerably as I leaned over her.
This time, I did not attempt to purposely avoid Muħammad Ålī’s Sister’s breasts.
Beginning with the top button, I slowly exposed her feminine parts to my eyes for the very first time, and when the unbuttoned pajama shirt was finally spread open to provide a full view of her uncovered breasts, I wasn’t even slightly embarrassed by the soft sound of admiration I heard escaping from my own lips.
Ghausiyah Muħammad Yåqūb blushed a little, but otherwise showed absolutely no reaction.
Her nipples were still hard little points, fleshy pink pebbles adorning her gorgeous Musalmān breasts.
To My amazement, she had only the faintest of tan lines indicating that she had ever worn a bra, which made me wonder if she was a regular user of tanning beds or if perhaps she took advantage of the tall fencing surrounding the tiny back yard of the house she shared with Taħsīn Jalāl Sheikħ to tan topless or even fully nude.
Once again, I became consciously aware of my own extreme arousal.
I was also consciously aware of how much I wanted to touch her in an intimate way.
Although my hands had done the actual deed, she had bared a significant area of her extremely lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān body to me.
It was so very tempting to reach to her chest and gently squeeze a breast.
Fortunately, I felt society’s call, which caused me to turn my attention to my Uncut Hindu Lund instead.
Carefully, I placed my Uncut Hindu Lund diagonally across her chest, nestling it between her beautiful breasts, my hand inherently brushing against one of her swells and noting its warmth.
My eyes locked with hers, and she smiled slightly as if attempting to reassure me that she did not mind the contact from me, her older Durgesh darling, her Hindu Piyā, Hindu Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt, Musalmān ħasīnāon kā Hindu Kħasam, Hindu husband of the Musalmān Beauties!
I rose from the bed, retrieved the camera, and was once again at work.
Ghausiyah Muħammad Yåqūb looked so beautiful, so vulnerable, and so selfless.
And amazingly, she appeared to be completely at peace despite being bound to the bedposts with my Uncut Hindu Lund draped across her naked chest.
Then she kissed and licked it passionately.
It wasn’t easy not to blast premature.
I smiled and fucked her mouth enjoying now it very much.
Ghausiyah Muħammad Yåqūb sucked me for hours.
Ghausiyah Muħammad Yåqūb swallowed it all gratefully indebted to me.
Then she smiled at me.
“Thank you, Durgesh darling, méré Hindu Piyā, Hindu Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt, hum Musalmān ħasīnāon ké Hindu Kħasam, Hindu husband of us Musalmān Beauties! Now please untie me and fuck me wildly until I exist.”*
I fucked Ghausiyah Muħammad Yåqūb in every position she requested me to fuck her.
Not on that day only.
It went on for complete one month nonstop.
She declared it was our honeymoon and she was my new Live in Relationship Partner now.
I granted her request.
I had to.
She was also a hyper sexual and perhaps only I was the suitable sex partner for her too.*
“We offered Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah a one o’clock appointment, thinking that might make her back out. She understood Kħadījah Muħammad and me both very well. She was the young adult Musalmān Beauty that herself raped me. She…”
I smiled myself somewhat proudly, somewhat impishly, somewhat incensed.
“Okay, Almighty, how many?”
She squeezed her lower lip strongly with her upper teeth to the extent that even some blood came out from her lower lip.
“Why are you asking?”
“How many? Don’t try to avoid the question as I won’t allow you to do so.”
“I can understand what you want to say.” I held her nude waist strongly, pulled out my Uncut Hindu Cock once again out of ACP Suraiyā Jamāl’s still much younger Makkan Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt until only its head was inside.
She squeezed her lower lip strongly once more, with her upper teeth to the extent that even some blood came out from her lower lip once again.
Then I was repeating my action again and again more and more ferociously.
“Sālī, yes, they are countless. So what?”
“My poor Durgesh darling, méré béchāré Hindu Piyā, poor Hindu Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt, hum Musalmān ħasīnāon ké béchāré Hindu Kħasam, poor Hindu husband of us Musalmān Beauties!” ACP Suraiyā Jamāl teased me smiling.
“Shut up.” I said, “Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah grabbed at the appointment.”
“Contact her. Maybe she has found out something till now.”
“You are right.” I said.
I tried my mobile.
It showed the network busy.
There was a telephone too.
I was still behind her fucking her passionately now.
I called Kħadījah Muħammad.
“Hi, Kħadījah Muħammad, anything new, Mérī Jān?”
“Are you fucking someone?”
“Yes,” I smiled proudly, “How the hell did you know?”
“The ferocious sounds of your consummating sex with her, those of the ferocious sexual assaults and penetrations are clearly audible even here on the phone.”
Kħadījah Muħammad laughed.
“Moderate your sexual assaults on her. Otherwise she would be incapable to assist you as a competent police officer. Your Uncut Hindu Prick is too strong to accommodate when you are in this mood.”
“You are right. Hell, everyone is right perhaps at present, except me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing. Never mind. Is there anything new?”
“None, sorry. Haven’t been able to get a thing.” Kħadījah Muħammad said, “I find there are three branches of Ruqayyah Fātimah Flower Shops, each with a separate phone. I’ve been calling them in turn.”
“Would he really help us? You are fucking his entire Musalmān houseladies. Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is his real daughter and she is fucking you openly in public places too. Imām Muħammad Ħasan might feel himself extremely humiliated.”
“Yaar, I don’t think Imām Muħammad Ħasan is such an idiot that he can’t differentiate between what I’m doing and what his real daughter Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, the ultramodern Kħātūn-e-Jannat razī Allāhu tålā ånhā, is. It’s Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan fucking me openly in public places. I’m not.”
“And if Imām Muħammad Ħasan refused to understand his daughter is actually a nudist feminist, then…”
“Let’s cross that bridge when we reach it. Why think negative prematurely?”
“You are right.”
“If you get an address, call police headquarters direct.”
“Ask for Inspector Pratāp.” I went on, “Tell him to rush some radio officers out to Shaguftah Rashīd’s apartment, and break in the door if they have to.”
I hung up.
Balancing herself on her knees and one of her elbows, she punched her mobile.
I looked down and saw something green under the table on which the telephone rested.
“Handkerchief?” I commented.
“Nope!” I snapped, “you gave it to me before studying it yourself optimum. There are three letters embroidered in it: FMA.”
“Let’s not jump on conclusions.”
“Okay. Imām Muħammad Ħasan came in Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club just now, according to what the girl says. He may have been there some time. Protesting you, Imām Muħammad Ħasan might have decided not to bother with a call. I’m having her put Imām Muħammad Ħasan on… Hello, Imām Muħammad Ħasan. This is ACP Suraiyā Jamāl. I left word for you to call police headquarters. Why didn’t you do it? Not cooperating with the police?… Well, isn’t it funny that you just got there as I was telephoning?”
There was an interval.
During that the receiver made noises.
“Well,” She interrupted abruptly, “never mind all the explanations. I know, because your real daughter Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is a nudist feminist, she deliberately uses to have sex with Durgesh, openly in public places, to humiliate you Pseudo Musalmīn. You feel humiliated. But Durgesh isn’t responsible for what your legally adult daughter does to humiliate you Pseudo Musalmīn.”
The receiver again made noises.
“I don’t let you interrupt my police investigation. Your matter with Durgesh and your nudist feminist daughter Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan… She isn’t nudist feminist? Well, I don’t agree with you… Never mind, listen to me. I want to know where the hell Shaguftah Rashīd lives… Don’t threaten me with the high approach of Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club. I know despite all the vulgarity in its name, Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club is a legal international organization. So what?”
The receiver made noises once more.
Then she said rather curtly.
“Shaguftah Rashīd must have a residence somewhere. She is one of the major shareholders of your internationally esteemed Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club. You must have the addresses of your entire shareholders, major or minor. I want to get to Shaguftah Rashīd right away. What’s that? You are forgetting that you are talking with the ACP responsible for law and order here at Ved Nagar. Well, why the hell don’t you open the bloody safe immediately and look it up? Imām Muħammad Ħasan, I’m not pleased with your cooperation with us… Yes, please do that and inform me immediately. You may report it to the President of India himself. I don’t give a damn when I’m investigating something. Inform me first and then report my behavior to any highest authority you damn please. I won’t wait very much.”*
“The bloody scoundrel is covering up something now, I know. Imām Muħammad Ħasan was pouring explanations and apologies. That’s a sure sign. The bastard is so communal that he was trying to annoy even me with repeating the club’s dastardly name Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club more and more even unnecessarily to feel me humiliated myself. He was trying to impress me that the ever aggressive ever sullying Hindus and their ever horniest Musalmān Beauties have named the club such reprehensible.”
“I understand.” I said gravely, “That’s the reason the Pseudo Islamic Countries have named the club internationally deliberately. They want no Hindu Musalmīn itteħād, no Hindu Muslim Unity anywhere. This name is so humiliating to Musalmīn that even the utmost moderate Musalmīn feel most humiliated and start hating Hindus and their horniest Musalmān Beauties, who otherwise never bother even to give a damn thought to such undignified matters.”
“I think we are on the right track.”
“Let’s hope so.”
“The Western businesspersons are also donating these Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Clubs.”
“Sure, why not?” I commented dryly, “What the hell else we can expect from the persons who divided India when they were kicked out from there, by then Hindu Muslim Unity? Of course they are patronizing these Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Clubs internationally, providing them immense monetary support as well as legal support too.”
“Yes, hello. Isn’t Shaguftah Rashīd one of your major shareholders?… Well, where can you find out?… Imām Muħammad Ħasan, are you sure about that?… Don’t threat me you rascal. Do you want me to arrest you?… Yes,…yes,…Call President of USA, Jacqueline Lincoln, herself, to support you and your dastardly named ‘thoroughly legal’ Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club. She sleeps with Durgesh. Do you understand, impotent?… Go ahead. Try to harm me as much as your entire anti humanity machinery can ever do…Now listen you scoundrel, this is important.”
“The impotent bastard is threatening me with the unconditional support of USA to Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club internationally.”
“Sure,” I said sharply, “why not? He wants you to arrest him so that they can make it an international issue. It would bring the name of the club internationally in headlines, disrupting Hindu Muslim Unity everywhere. Can’t you see? They are using the most ancient rotten policy of such immoral diplomats: ‘Divide and Rule’.”
“What should I do?”
“Don’t lose your mind. He is deliberately irritating you.”
“Yes, I think you are right.”
“Don’t arrest the impotent. He wants to get arrested. Try to act big hearted and ever forgiving.”
“Idiot, I’m not telling you to really forgive him. Play smarter since he is playing smart.”
Her most beautiful eyes widened as my point dawned on her.
“You…you are right. He is deliberately annoying me.”
“Now you understand the game. Play it smarter. Threaten him as much as you want to. But never arrest him. Never forget his Abbū, Imām Muħammad Yåqūb, is a senator now in USA.”
“You are responsible for law and order here in Ved Nagar. Aren’t you?”
“I don’t want a run around.” She said in the phone, “All right, all right, you haven’t any idea… Now, wait a minute. Does Shaguftah Rashīd have a social security number?… I see… Now listen, I may want to get you again. Don’t leave Ved Nagar without informing me personally. SMS me your personal mobile number so that I can call you whenever I damn please… Your Senator Abbū in USA can be made incapable to protect you if needed, my child. Don’t try to annoy your Ammījān ACP Suraiyā Jamāl. You would regret it.”*
Disconnecting the mobile, I pushed back my chair.
I got to my feet.
I stood keeping Kħadījah Muħammad on her knees and elbows.
“This thing’s goofy, ludicrous, absurd, Kħadījah Muħammad, Mérī Jān.” I pushed my extremely hardened Uncut Hindu Lund into Kħadījah Muħammad’s Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot to the hilt, “I don’t think the police are going to do anything.”
I loved her so much I didn’t love even my legal wife, Saiyadah Fātimah PhD.
I couldn’t help it.
Kħadījah Muħammad was hyper sexual herself as I was.
Saiyadah Fātimah PhD wanted least sex.
She loved and married me not for my sexual prowess.
Saiyadah Fātimah PhD loved and married me for my ‘exclusive unlimited humanity’ and my devotion to upraise the Muslimahs.
“You mean Muħammad Åbdullah…”
“No, no. He’ll certainly do his best. But his police…well, of course, they may find Shaguftah Rashīd in the voter’s register. Think back on that conversation. See if you can…”
“Wait a minute.” Kħadījah Muħammad abruptly said, “She was calling from Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club alright. I could hear the male voices talking of their Stavans, Ved and Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā. The female voices were referring to Allah Måshā Allah Subħān Allah every now and then. And there were the melodious sweet sounds of consummating sex.”
Kħadījah Muħammad went on.
“I could hear the sound of an orchestra too. It… wait a minute now. Don’t fuck me so excitedly. Just push your Uncut Hindu Lund into my Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot to the hilt and stop keeping it fully embedded there. No pulling out. Not even a bit. Let me concentrate, please.”
“Sālī,” I pushed my Uncut Hindu Lund into her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot as she requested and kept it there fully embedded to the hilt, “you Musalmān Beauties require my Uncut Hindu Lund fully embedded into your Musalmān Choot so that you may concentrate?”
Kħadījah Muħammad winked at me.
“That’s right, any objection?”
“Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan also concentrates in this way, doesn’t she?”
“She is crazy to imitate you.” I retorted, “You are her role model. Everything whatsoever you have done with me, she is also doing blindly.”
Kħadījah Muħammad smiled.
“Saiyadah Fātimah PhD too loves her, but…”
“Yes, I do understand, but…”
“Yes, yes, let me concentrate. I remember hearing the background music too, I think. Please fuck me.”
“Please fuck me wildly and let me concentrate.”
“Nonsense. If I fuck you wildly how can you concentrate?”
“You don’t know. You are not a woman. We women have different ways in so many things. Now fuck me you teaser.”
“Okay, okay. Don’t shout.”
“Wildly, Sālī, wildly.” I started fucking Kħadījah Muħammad wildly now.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan had smiled once in the similar situation.
“Kħadījah Muħammad Bājī uses you. As I do.”
“These are the times when we can make you to fuck us as wildly as we damn please.”
“Shame on you.”
“Well?” I asked Kħadījah Muħammad fucking her wildly after about fifteen minutes.
“You want me to concentrate, don’t you?”
“Yes, you are right. But don’t forget your promise, will you?”
“To fuck me wildly till…”
“Yes, yes, now come on.”
“I remember the background music now. It was playing ‘Khai ké paan Banāras wālā’.”
“Very good. Now we have only to find out where the hell in Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club this background music ‘Khai ké paan Banāras wālā’ has been played recently tonight. I love you, Kħadījah Muħammad. That’s great.”
“Don’t tell me verbally that you love me, put into action, Durgesh darling, méré Hindu Piyā, Hindu Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt, hum Musalmān ħasīnāon ké Hindu Kħasam, Hindu husband of us Musalmān Beauties! Your Uncut Hindu Lund is already visiting my Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot. Isn’t it?”*
I smiled and started obliging Kħadījah Muħammad.
“I think I can find out.” She smiled at me thankfully.
She started to use her mobile.
After some connections and disconnections she winked at me.
“Got it, Durgesh darling.”
“I think we can get it.”
“What is it?”
“Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club, Ved Nagar has played ‘Khai ké paan Banāras wālā’. I connected to the club and asked if they knew a Shaguftah Rashīd. The hat check girl said she did. She said that Shaguftah Rashīd had been there this evening, but she had left early. She said she had a headache. I asked how we could find Shaguftah Rashīd’s address. She said she didn’t know. Yet, she thought one of the proprietors, Iqbāl Rashīd, knew where she lived.”
“Any relationship with Shaguftah Rashīd?” I asked enthusiastically.
“I asked the hat check girl, but she didn’t know. Iqbāl Rashīd is out tonight, and couldn’t be reached.”
“Damn. You told her it was important?”
“Sure. I told her it was a matter of life and death.”
I used my mobile to contact Commissioner of Police, Muħammad Åbdullah, again.
He was in the bathroom.
“Your name is flashing already on the screen. Want to fuck me now?”
“I thought he could have requested once more to you to fuck his wife, rather his Ammījān now.”
“Give the mobile to Muħammad Åbdullah, your Chief.”
“He is in the bathroom.”
“I can’t wait.”
“I can reach you as early as possible.”
I controlled myself.
However, she was an IPS even then, waiting for her first assignment as a police officer.
This time her voice became crisply businesslike.
“Okay. What is it?”
“I had a legal appointment with a Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah for one o’clock. I was waiting for her. In the meantime I received a call from some Shaguftah Rashīd I knew only by her name. I doubt even that name, Shaguftah Rashīd, maybe fictitious. Yet she rang up. She could barely talk over the mobile. She said she’d been poisoned. Someone had sent her poisoned candy. She certainly sounded about ready to pass out. Evidently the receiver either slipped from her hands and fell, or she keeled over while she was talking to me. Then the receiver was hung up before I could trace the call.”
“You haven’t fucked her ever?”
“You fucked me faithfully being immensely loyal to your stepson that immediately accepted me his Ammījān.”
“Not immediately, Sālī, after two years.” I said curtly.
“You don’t know where she is?”
I held Kħadījah Muħammad’s slim waist with both my hands and kept fucking her wildly as she wanted.
“I’m coming to that.” I said on the mobile, “Kħadījah Muħammad did some fast thinking and some good detective work. I won’t take time to tell you about it unnecessarily. Yet the result is that Kħadījah Muħammad got a lead to the Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club in Ved Nagar. A Shaguftah Rashīd is known there. She was there in the evening. But apparently the underlings don’t know her address. An Iqbāl Rashīd runs the place, but he’s out. That’s the story in a nutshell. What do you say, ACP Suraiyā Jamāl?”
“Well, don’t say I didn’t tell the police.” I said curtly, “I’m not the police. I’m only a citizen. I’ve informed the police. Commissioner of police as far as I’m concerned. If someone finds Shaguftah Rashīd’s body tomorrow morning, and…”
Her protest against I fucked her was behind her new phrase ‘Hold your Uncut Hindu Lund’ instead of ‘Hold your horses’.
She used it to register her complaint whenever she talked with me.
“With Kħadījah Muħammad.” I replied.
“I’ll be for you in about five minutes.” ACP Suraiyā Jamāl said, “Keep your Uncut Hindu Lund ready for me once more. Tell Kħadījah Muħammad you are going to fuck your daughter in law ACP Suraiyā Jamāl for the rest of the night. If you can be waiting down on the sidewalk, it’ll save that much time.”
“Think we can do anything by phone?”
“I doubt it, Prāñnāth. I’m grateful that you recommended your stepson Muħammad Ålī for the proprietorship of this Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club in Ved Nagar. Yet, it won’t take over a few minutes to get there. Be all ready to jump in when you hear the siren. I’ll cut her loose.”
Kħadījah Muħammad herself pushed her glorious glamorous gorgeous Panjvaqtah Namāzī big firm round Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān buttocks into my Hindu loins to receive my Uncut Hindu Lund as deepest as possible.
I blasted my Hindu Vīrý.
Yet, she was still as young and as beautiful as she was when she first raped me.
Kħadījah Muħammad closed her eyes in extreme ecstasy.
She was receiving my Hindu Vīrý once more deepest inside her as she always greeted it.
Dressing myself hastily I said,
“Okay, Ummil Mominīn, hold the fort. I may call you in a little later.”
I had scolded Muħammad Ålī.
“Papa Jī, what do you think, she married me for myself?” Muħammad Ålī complained.
I was as if fallen from the seventh sky.
“It was her own game.” Muħammad Ålī charged his wife, “She was an IPS. She wasn’t a damn fool. Neither she was physically incompetent to protect herself from you when you raped her, if she didn’t want it.”
“You may be right there.” I murmured thoughtfully.*
It took a minute or two for the elevator to get up to the floor I was with Kħadījah Muħammad.
It was an extremely complex theory of Metaphysics it was built on.
We called it Eīshān Vigyān.
The night watchman dropped me to the street level.
I had less than a minute to wait at the curb before I heard the scream of a siren.
I jerked the door open and jumped in.
I hadn’t another option except to shift to the driving seat myself.
“Open my belt, undress me below my waist and fuck me if you really want me to help you in keeping alive your so called Shaguftah Rashīd.”
I hadn’t another option once again.
After, Muħammad Ålī told her that she wasn’t his wife anymore, his Ammījān instead, ACP Suraiyā Jamāl started to sleep with me openly, with her mother in law on my one side and she herself on my other side.
I understood very well why Muħammad Ålī couldn’t satisfy her.
She wasn’t made for the softies in sex like Muħammad Ålī.
Concentrating on driving, she bent forward in rukū’.
Even then her buttocks were more active in back and forth motion than my own waist was.
She had taken benefit of my interest in Shaguftah Rashīd.
The police Mercedes screamed through the streets nonstop.
“Hang on.” She warned me as the police Mercedes screamed in a turn.
I saw, she was enjoying both the excitement of my Uncut Hindu Lund tearing her Meccan Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot and the excitement of tearing through traffic with siren screaming and motor roaring.
We dressed ourselves competently, debouched from the police Mercedes and marched across the sidewalk.
“You are an excellent driver.” I smiled.
“Thanks.” I squeezed her buttocks.
She squeezed my Uncut Hindu Lund to show her gratefulness and appreciation.
A big Paŧhān doorman, resplendent with uniform, saluted us.
The Paŧhān doorman dashed for a speaking tube built into the wall.
He whistled three times sharply.
“The hat-check girl, Suraiyā,” I said, “She knows something.”
She showed her identity card and stars to the hat check girl.
“Shaguftah Rashīd. Where can we find her?”
It showed it was alright.
“Sorry, ma’am. I don’t know. Someone was asking over the phone awhile back.”
“You know her?”
“Of course, ma’am.”
“Does she work here?”
“She doesn’t need to. She is a major shareholder here. She is one of the proprietors, I must say.”
“Exclusively interested in only the Uncut Hindu Lund you are playing with.” The hat check girl smiled.
“One Man Woman?”
“I think so.”
“How many shares she holds here?”
“I wouldn’t know, ma’am, sorry.”
“A major shareholder ma’am.” The hat check girl also smiled.
“Well, they think it a good business.”
“Yes, I see that. Where are they?”
“This place is supposed to run without anyone in charge?”
“Ordinarily, one or the other of them is here. Tonight it just happens they both are out.”
“Who else would know? The cashier? Some of the waitresses?”
She shook her head.
“I don’t think so. I’ve made inquiries. I tell you who I think would.”
“Who is he?”
“Her younger brother.”
“Living with her?”
“I don’t know, ma’am.”
“Where do we find Iqbāl Rashīd?”
“I think the cashier has his address. Iqbāl Rashīd cashes a check here once in a while.”
We skirted the dance floor, and pushed past the crowded couples moving slowly to the rhythm of the music.
Now we were walking on to the cashier.
The cashier was in a cage between the dining room and the Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club.
“You know an Iqbāl Rashīd?”
She hesitated somewhat.
It was quite obvious that she was debating on a course of action.
The cashier controlled herself.
“Sorry for the delay in replying, ma’am. Yes, I know Dr. Iqbāl Rashīd.”
“Dr. Iqbāl Rashīd?”
“Where can we find him?”
“May I ask what he has done, ma’am?”
“You may not. It’s a police business. We seek informations, don’t give them to others.”
“Sorry, ma’am. I don’t know where he is at present.”
“Give me his address.”
“Bājīrāo Mastānī Apartments.”
“I see. Which one?”
“Just a minute.”
She searched in her computer.
“It’s on the second floor, Bājīrāo Mastānī Apartments, 256.”
“His phone number?”
“Not recorded here.”
“You know Iqbāl Rashīd when you see him?”
“He hasn’t been here tonight?”
“Would you have seen him if he had been?”
“Yes, ma’am. Of course.”
“I think we should try Iqbāl Rashīd at Bājīrāo Mastānī Apartments.”
Then she turned to the cashier once again.
“Who’s running this place?”
“Who is the major partner?”
“Imām Muħammad Ħasan. He isn’t here at present but he is expected to be here any minute.”
And why should she have?
“Mr. Muħammad Ålī has a little cabin somewhere.” The cashier volunteered, “He goes there for relaxation.”
“Relaxation, eh? Where is it?”
“I wouldn’t know. It’s up in Green Canyon somewhere.”
“When Imām Muħammad Ħasan comes in, let him call police headquarters and ask for Inspector Prabhāt Deharia. Have him tell Inspector Prabhāt Deharia all he knows about Shaguftah Rashīd and her younger brother, Iqbāl Rashīd. Don’t forget. I’ll call back in a little while. What number do I call?”
The cashier gave her the number duly written in a slip.
“It’s always a pleasure seeing an efficient police officer at work.”
“Thank you.” ACP Suraiyā Jamāl also smiled, “We have to handle them in this way. Otherwise they’ll start swapping gossip with us. And we’ll get nowhere. People seem to forget we have emergency calls pouring in in a steady stream. We haven’t time to dillydally, or let other people take the lead. We have to keep them on the defensive to get anywhere ever.”
“I understand.” I smiled.
We squeezed past the dance floor.
“Not the police version exactly.” I smiled, “What’s it?”
“That’s not the truth at all.”
“These organizations are actually run by Pseudo Islamic countries. They have calculatingly adopted this humiliating name to Musalmīn for the club, to defame the Hindus and their horniest Musalmān beloveds.”
“I see. So, the police also know the conspiracy behind it?”
I smiled too.
“What do you think the Pseudo Islamic countries don’t know that the police are aware of their conspiracy?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then why they are still retaining this name for the club?”
“India was the eighth most powerful country not many days before. Neither Saůūdī Årab nor Iran was anywhere in power in the suburb of India. China was second and USA was the number one. Yet, HVSI marched ahead aggressively and now HVSI is the most powerful organization on the entire globe.”
1: Of my Musalmān friends
The rest of the afternoon flashed by in a blur and as we were to depart at seven the next morning, everyone was in bed by eight.
Lying in bed with my seemingly perpetually hard Uncut Hindu Lund in my hand, I hopefully waited for Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ to come to my room and finish what had nearly happened this afternoon, but she never came.
I had the window seat.
Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ was sitting next to me.
Ammī and her girlfriends were sitting together two rows back as the plane lifted off the runway and we settled back for the five-hour flight to Hawaii that would put us in there around ten in the morning.
Although there seemed to be something between Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ and I bubbling just under the surface, neither of us seemed willing to divulge the secret and bring it to the surface as I sat looking out the window and Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ leafed through a magazine.
As we flew along, I rested my head against a pillow and watched out the window as the occasional boat drifted along below us while the monotonous drone of the engines had a tranquilizing effect on me and I felt myself drifting off to sleep.*
Something woke me.
I don’t know what it was, but when I woke up I felt something resting on my shoulder and something soft and warm resting against my arm.
The faint smell of shampoo and delicate fragrance of perfume wafted across my nose as I slowly opened my eyes.
Turning my head slightly, I saw that it was Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ leaning against me with her head resting on my shoulder.
We were both covered with one blanket that she must have covered us with before she went to sleep.
Although I couldn’t see under the blanket, I came to the conclusion that the warm softness brushing against my arm must be her breast.
Alarm bells began to clang inside my head as I felt a sudden charge of electric excitement fire off in my Uncut Hindu Lund.
And it was then that I felt something resting on my thigh.
Her hand was resting on my thigh.
Resting on my thigh only a couple of inches from my rapidly hardening Uncut Hindu Cock.
My ever smart mind was reeling.
It was all so stirring.
The two of us intimately pressed together, touching.
I had never experienced a stronger feeling of love and compassion for My friend, Raħmān Sheikħ’s Sister, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ .
I could barely breathe or think.
I wanted to do something to show her how I felt, but I was cautious to move.
Cautious that if I did, I would break the spell and frighten her away.
Minutes passed as I sat trying to think of what to do.
Finally, I moved my hand which was resting on the seat between us.
As I did, I felt my trembling fingers brush against the warm smoothness of bare skin.
Should I dare try?
Should I touch her there and see how she would react?
I wanted to know.
I wanted to know if she felt toward me like I felt toward her.
But I was cautious.
Why shouldn’t I be even cautious?
My heart was pounding so hard, I knew that everyone in the plane could hear it.
I was cautious to breathe even.
I didn’t want her to wake up and find me groping her hot, little excellent exquisite outstanding Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Pussy.
My fingers were moving so slow, I thought it would take the rest of the flight for me to ever touch her there, but I couldn’t risk waking her.
Then my finger brushed the hem of her short skirt which had ridden up so high it was only a couple of inches below the luscious prize hidden under it.
Letting my fingers slip under the skirt, I slowly made my way higher and higher.
It seemed like hours before my fingers finally brushed against the soft, giving flesh between My friend, Raħmān Sheikħ’s Sister, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ ’s legs.
An electric current shot up my arm as I realized that my fingers were touching bare flesh.
Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ wasn’t wearing any panties!
Was it deliberate?
I thought I was going to pass out as all the blood in my brain went rushing down to my achingly-hard Uncut Hindu Penis.
I’d never been as hard recently as I was at this very Moment.
I thought my Uncut Hindu Lund was going to rip out of my short pants any second as I gently fingered the moist, soft folds of flesh between My friend, Raħmān Sheikħ’s Sister, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ’s legs.
Then, I don’t know if I imagined it or if it even happened, but it felt like My friend, Raħmān Sheikħ’s Sister, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ’s legs parted ever so slightly.
Then all of a sudden, the plane lurched, startling me and waking Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ.
As Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ jerked upright in her seat, I jerked my hand away from her excellent exquisite outstanding Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Pussy, and I felt her hand bump against my Uncut Hindu Lund as she pulled her hand off my thigh.
“What was that?” I heard her ask as she looked around me to look out at the window.
As she did, the blanket fell down into her lap and I couldn’t help but notice how much her nipples were tenting her tee shirt.
They were definitely hard and swollen.
From arousal, I wondered?
What else from, if not?
“An air pocket, I guess—” I muttered, cursing whatever it had been that woke her.
Then she looked back at me and smiled.
“Did you have a good nap?” she asked.
“Yeah, uh, did you?”
“Yeah. I hope you didn’t mind me borrowing your shoulder. It looked so inviting and much more comfy than a pillow,” she said, reaching over and giving my thigh an intimate squeeze.
“No, use it anytime you feel like it,” I grinned, reaching over and giving her leg a soft grope just above the knee.
“It’s so nice being around you again, Durgesh,” she sighed. “It’s different now. Now that we’re both, you know, uh, grown up and all.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean. I was just thinking about that the other day. It really feels different than it did before . . .”
“I’m glad we’re going to get to spend this time together before we go off to University and stuff,” she smiled, giving my leg another little squeeze.
But this time I realized her hand had moved higher up my thigh.
And closer to my aching Uncut Hindu Lund.
And hell, it was deliberate.
We both seemed to be sparring with each other, neither having the courage to tell the other what was really on our minds.
I of course had the necessary courage.
But I wasn’t sure of her reaction.
I didn’t want to mess it up due to my impatience only.
I hadn’t another option, consequently, except to wait and watch.
The plane lurched again, banking as it began its descent down toward Honolulu.
At last, the plane landed and we disembarked.
It was one o’clock before we got out of the airport, had lunch and finally checked into our rooms.
Slipping into my bathing trunks, I stepped down the hallway to Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ’s room which was the room adjacent to mine.
Ammī and her girlfriends were staying in the room next to Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ’s.
Knocking on the door, I heard Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ holler out a “Who’s there?”
“It’s the big, bad wolf and I’ve come to eat you up,” I laughed, realizing that there was an awful lot of wishful thinking in the remark.
“Promises, promises,” Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ smarted back as the door came open and she stuck her head around it. “What do you want?” she asked me, standing keeping her excellent exquisite outstanding stunning dazzling young adult Musalmān body hidden from view, I guessed that she didn’t have any clothes on.
“Oh, I just came over to see what you were doing,” I lied. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
“I don’t have any clothes on,” she fussed, pushing the door a little more closed.
“Oh, that’s okay with me. I don’t mind,” I chuckled.
What happened next took me totally by surprise and I certainly wasn’t expecting it.
But regrettably I only had a couple of seconds to bask in the awesome splendor of her beauty before she stepped behind the door and partially closed it again.
“There—was that what you wanted?” she smirked.
“Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā, God, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ , your fucking gorgeous,” I groaned as my poor, old Uncut Hindu Lund was still twitching and jerking from the electricity jolting through it.
“So what did you really want, Durgesh?” she smiled flirtaceously batting her big, blue eyes at me as I stood out in the hallway trying to catch my breath.
“Sālī, I was going down to the beach and I wanted to see if you wanted to tag along,” I told her.
“Sure, let me throw on a suit and I’ll meet you down there. The life guards might not let me on the beach dressed like this,” she giggled.
“They’d be crazy not to,” I mumbled, knowing that my face had to be the color of cooked beets.
“See yuh—” she snickered, closing the door in my face.
Seeing My friend, Raħmān Sheikħ’s Sister, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ, naked was like my first visit to the optometrist and getting my first pair of glasses.
I’d seen her countless times in a bikini, but seeing her totally, bare-assed naked was almost like seeing her for the very first time.
Maybe I was just biased because she was My friend, Raħmān Sheikħ’s Sister, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ , and all, but her big breath-taking ever erect Musalmān boobs with their dusky-pink areolas were far and away the prettiest pair of breath-taking ever erect Musalmān boobs I’d ever seen up close and personal, recently.
And my earlier assumption about the shaving of her mons had been re-confirmed, as it was as smooth and hairless as a baby’s behind.
She was fucking beautiful.
As I shuffled my way down to the beach, my ever smart Uncut Hindu Lund was so hard I could have driven railroad spikes into ties with it.
It was like I was a piece of flotsam caught in the swirling edges of a whirlpool and being slowly, but inexorably drawn toward the whirling core of the churning mass of passion and fervor that now seemed to exist between My friend, Raħmān Sheikħ’s Sister, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ , and I.
Waiting for Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ to join me, I sat in a beach lounger watching all the pretty, scantily-clad Musalmān Beauties and Musalmān Beauties parading up and down the beach.
I was so horny I would have fucked any of them at the drop of a hat, but down deep inside I knew that there was one Musalmān Beauty that I wanted most of all.
And that Musalmān Beauty was My friend, Raħmān Sheikħ’s Sister, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ.
Suddenly I heard the tinkle of ice against glass and then found my vision blocked by a pair of tiny, soft hands as I felt a pair of breath-taking ever erect Musalmān boobs brush against my ears.
“Guess who—” I heard Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ giggle as I was enveloped in the fragrance of coconuts.
It smelled like she had taken a bath in sun screen.
And strangely, one of her hands was colder than the other one.
“Uh, Mae West?” I snickered, turning my head to the side slightly and kissing one of the majestic wonders straddling my head.
“Wrong—” Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ laughed, pulling her hands away from my eyes and stepping back away from me. “I guess you don’t win the prize.”
“And just what would that prize have been,” I asked her as she plopped down into the lounger beside me.
“Something you would’ve probably enjoyed as much as I would have,” she softly said as I saw her beautiful Musalmān eyes dart down to bulge of my rather obvious Hindu erection.
As her beautiful Musalmān eyes flitted back up to my face, I reached down and moved things around so that it wouldn’t be quite so obvious.
“You got a fake ID?” I asked her glancing at the drink sitting on the table between us.
“No, I made it myself,” she laughed.
“Better not let Ammī and her girlfriends catch you,” I grinned.
Her parents were pretty liberal about drinking and they had let her drink around the house after she was eighteen.
“They know,” she smiled.
“Oh, really . . .” I grinned back.
“So . . . what did you think? Did you like what you saw?” she smiled at me as she reached over and picked up the tall, skinny glass that she had placed on the table between us when she had sneaked up on me.
“Like it—I fucking loved it, pardon my French—” I told her, picking up my juice and taking a swig off it. “I think I’d like to see more of it,” I boldly flirted.
“Oh, you would, would you—” Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ flirted back, setting her drink back on the table and taking a quick look around the beach to see if anyone was looking.
Then before I knew what was happening, she reached down and pulled the top of her bikini up off her big, beautiful breath-taking ever erect Musalmān boobs.
“You mean like this?” she giggled making the dangling treasures jiggle and quiver in the bright, afternoon sunlight.
I was stunned as I gawked down at her Musalmān breasts in awe-struck adoration.
They seemed to be growing more and more beautiful every time I got to see them.
“Uh, uh, cover them up, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ,” I muttered, not wanting her too, but jealously not wanting anyone else to see them.
And especially not Ammī and her girlfriends, should they stumble upon us.
That would ruin everything if they knew what seemed to be going on between their daughter and me.
“What, you don’t want to see them anymore?” she fussed, pouting out her lower lip as she tugged the bikini back down over her Musalmān breasts.
“What if Ammī and her girlfriends saw you do that?” I groaned, staring down at her now-covered Musalmān breasts again as she picked her drink back up.
“They didn’t,” Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ said, taking a sip on her drink. “I think that they were busy doing something else,” she laughed. “I heard some weird, bumping sounds coming from their room just before I came down, so I think they were occupied with each other.”
“Ammī and her girlfriends?” I groaned, trying to picture the two of them in bed going at it.
This whole thing was getting crazier and crazier by the minute.
My friend, Raħmān Sheikħ’s Ammī, Rizwānah Hāshmī, and Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ’s father up in their room fucking while My friend, Raħmān Sheikħ’s Sister, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ, and I were sitting out on the beach casually discussing it.
“Yeah,” she laughed. “They do it a lot, you know.”
“Pardon me?” I asked her, not believing what she had just told me.
“Yeah, I can hear them at night at home. They do it just about every night,” she smiled, taking a suggestive suck on the straw sticking out of her drink.
“Well, it’s not like they’re in their nineties or something, I guess. They’re only in their forties, so . . .” I mumbled, letting my eyes brush over her Musalmān breasts again.
“Whoops. Maybe I was wrong. Here they come now,” Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ said, looking over my shoulder and waving.
“Hi, Durgesh,” My friend, Raħmān Sheikħ’s Ammī, Rizwānah Hāshmī called out as I turned and watched My friend, Raħmān Sheikħ’s Ammī, Rizwānah Hāshmī, and Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ trudging through the sand toward us.
“So what are you two doing?” Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ asked as they stepped up beside my lounger.
“Just hanging out,” I smiled, feeling a mischief spread out across my cheeks as the picture of them up in their room fucking flashed back through my spinning brain.
“You’d better put some more sun screen on,” My friend, Raħmān Sheikħ’s Ammī, Rizwānah Hāshmī, warned. “Your face looks like it’s already burned.”
“Uh, yeah, uh, I’ll do that—” I lied, trying to keep my eyes off My friend, Raħmān Sheikħ’s Ammī, Rizwānah Hāshmī’s mountainous Musalmān breasts that were straining against her tiny bikini top that was having to work overtime to try and support the giants.
“We were just going to have dinner and wondered if you two wanted to join us,” she smiled, seeming oblivious to my dilemma.
“Uh, sure,” I said, pushing up out of my lounger.
Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ and I joined Ammī and her girlfriends for dinner which thankfully passed quickly.
I’d never really thought about Ammī and her girlfriends as, well as sexually active, but Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ’s revelation that “they do it a lot, you know” made me feel strangely uncomfortable around them.*
It had been a long day and my time schedules were all messed up.
Afghanistan, California, and now Hawaii, I didn’t know what time it was and a night of TV seemed preferable to floundering around on a dance floor in one of the many nightclubs sprinkled around Waikiki Beach.
As a group, we all rode the elevator up to our floor and made our way down to our rooms.
Then with promises to join together at breakfast tomorrow, we all made our ways to our rooms.
Pitching my room key card on the coffee table, I turned on the TV.
Kicking my loafers off, I plopped down on the couch, kicked my feet up on the coffee table and leaned back to watch TV.
It was Monday night and there wasn’t anything on worth watching except, strangely enough,Hawaii Five-0 and it didn’t come on for another thirty minutes.
Sitting on the couch absent-mindedly thinking back over the day, I couldn’t seem to get the image of naked extremely beautiful Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ out of my mind.
That brief but dazzling display of naked Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān flesh had burned itself so deeply into my memory banks, I knew that if I lived to be a hundred I would remember every tantalizing detail of her exquisite body.
And then there had been the blatant display of her Musalmān breasts down on the beach.
That had taken me completely by surprise.
I was beginning to think that maybe Raħmān Sheikħ’s sweet, little Sister might be somewhat of a Uncut Hindu Prick tease.
Just then I thought I heard a soft tapping on my door.
It had been so soft, I didn’t know if I was imagining it or it had really been someone knocking.
Getting up to see, I heard it again only louder this time.
Was it Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ?
Or Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ’s parents?
Who else could it be?
Slipping the chain out of its slot, I unlocked the door and pulled it open.
A rush of excitement and expectation washed over me as I saw that it was Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ standing out in the hallway.
She was wearing the same pair of black, satin pajamas she had been wearing yesterday morning.
For some strange convoluted reason, that seemed to have been years ago, not yesterday.
“Hi, what’cha doing?” I heard her ask.
“Just watching TV . . . come on in?” I grinned, stepping back out of the doorway so she could step inside my room.
“Sure,” she said, glancing over her shoulder in the direction of her parent’s room.
Closing the door behind her, I slipped the chain back into its slot and re-locked the door.
“So what were you watching?” she asked me as she padded over to the little wet bar beside the small refrigerator sitting by the TV. “You mind if I make myself a drink?”
“Sure, go ahead and knock yourself out. I was just waiting for McGarret and Danno to come on,” I told her flopping back down on the couch and watching her make her drink.
The light from the lamp was smemering off her black satin pajamas highlighting every delightful curve and swoop of her excellent exquisite outstanding stunning dazzling young adult Musalmān body as she opened the refrigerator and pulled out a Coke.
“Want me to refresh your juice,” she asked me as she filled a glass with ice cubes and then twisted the cap off one of the little bottles lining the back of the bar.
“Sure,” I grinned starting to get up to carry my juice over to her.
“I’ll get it,” she told me, turning and stepping toward me, rolling her hips with exaggerated gusto as she strutted back over to the coffee table.
As she did, I could see that the two top buttons on her pajama top were now unbuttoned as her big Musalmān breasts rolled and bobbled under the thin black satin.
And, as it was with my Uncut Hindu Lund, I could see that her nipples were swollen and stiff as they tented the smemering satin.
Leaning down, bending at the waist, she bent over to pick up my glass.
As she did, the laws of physics took over and the front of her pajamas billowed open revealing her beautiful, dangling Musalmān breasts.
Looking up at me, she smiled, pausing as I gawked down at the dangling Musalmān treasures while they gently bobbled and bumped against one another until at last, she stood back up and went swishing back over to the bar.
Finally, I had, had enough.
I had to tell her what I thought.
“Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ, I hope that this doesn’t sound to forward or anything, but you’ve got the prettiest Musalmān breasts I’ve ever seen,” I mumbled.
“What did you say?” I heard her ask as she turned toward me making her breath-taking ever erect Musalmān boobs roll and sway down inside her pajamas.
“I said that you had the prettiest Musalmān breasts I’ve ever seen. They’re gorgeous.”
“Do you really think so,” she smiled and then turned to face away from me while she finished refreshing my drink.
“Yes, I do,” I inanely muttered, feeling a warm feeling spreading out over my cheeks.
Then when she turned back around, I saw that all four buttons on her pajama top were unbuttoned and the top was dangling down off her shoulders with about a three-inch gap between the unbuttoned edges.
“Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā, God, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ, why are you teasing me this way?” I groaned, watching the opening fluttering open and shut as she sauntered back toward the couch.
“You want me to button it back up?” she asked, the look on her face suddenly serious. “I will . . . if you want me to.”
“No, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ, but I have to know—what is all this leading to?” I asked as she melted down on the couch beside me and set both drinks down on the coffee table in front of us.
Then, to my stunned amazement, she reached down and picked my hand up from my lap.
Looking down, I watched as she eased my hand down under the edge of her pajama top.
A jolt of electricity fired off down in my Uncut Hindu Lund as my fingers brushed up against the warm, giving flesh of her breast.
“Touch it, Durgesh—” she whispered, gently pressing her breast against my hand as her hand curled around behind my head and pulled me to her.
Sparks popped and arced from the tiny expanse of skin when our lips touched.
My trembling fingers found the springy, hard jut of her nipple almost at the same time her tongue forced its way into my mouth.
My heart was pounding so hard, I thought it was going to burst out of my chest.
And the roaring in my ears became so loud, I thought I was going to pass out.
I had never experienced a level of excitement this intense recently.
I couldn’t think, I couldn’t breathe.
All I could do was gently, lovingly caress the hard, rubbery nub pressing against my fingers as Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ’s hot, probing tongue swirled and whirled around inside my mouth.
Then as suddenly as it had begun it was over as Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ leaned back and scooted back down to the other end of the couch.
Stunned, I watched her pajamas top billow out as she reached back down in front of me to retrieve her drink.
“I can’t stand much more of this, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ,” I groaned.
“You want me to go back to my room?” she asked me.
“Just tell me what you want, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ. That’s all I ask.” I was risking that I might lose everything if I rushed her into a decision.
“Oh, Durgesh, I don’t know what I want. I’m so confused. All this is so exciting and so, so taboo, but I’m afraid,” she sniffed as a big, glistening tear slowly trickled down her cheek. “You’re my brother’s friend and . . . oh, Durgesh it would be so wrong. It hurt so much the first time and I’m afraid it will hurt again. And what if someone finds out?”
I couldn’t decide what to tell her.
I wanted her more than I’d ever wanted anything in my whole life, but I would never do anything to hurt her.
It had to be of her own free will.
I wouldn’t coerce her into it.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything so much in my whole life . . . but, I won’t do anything until you’re one hundred percent sure that it’s what you want to do,” I told her, wanting to take her in my arms and convince her that it would be okay.
But something, one last vestige of decency was holding me back, making me maintain my distance to leave the decision up to her.
“I don’t know what to do, Durgesh,” she told me, sniffing, wiping the back of her hand across her cheek to wipe away the tears and then taking a swig off her drink.
“Do whatever you want, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ. Whatever you say, I’ll abide by it. If you say that you don’t want to . . . or can’t, I’ll understand. It is a big decision and I want you to feel comfortable with what you decide.”
“Durgesh, this is so hard. I thought it would be easy, but it’s the most difficult decision I’ve ever had to make. I want you, uh, us to . . . so much, but what if it’s a mistake and we find out that we’re, we’re not right for each other? It’s not blackboard where you can just erase it and start all over again. Whatever we do, we’re stuck with each other. It’s not like we can just break it off and go our separate ways. We’re Hindu man and Musalmān Beauty, not boyfriend and Musalmān girlfriend. Either way, it’s final once we decide what we’re going to do.”
“You’ve got all week to decide, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ. And if you haven’t made your mind up by then, well, there’s two months before University, and if that’s not enough time, we’ll be going to the same University. So time is not an issue here.” I explained to her. “I’ll wait for your decision before I do anything.”
Maybe if her mind was really into it and she realized that time wasn’t a factor, maybe it would help her make up her mind, I hopefully thought.
“This is not the way I planned it to end tonight, Durgesh,” Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ told me, her voice barely above a whisper. “It was supposed to be . . . supposed to be so different,” she said and I could hear the anguish in her voice.
Then as I sat watching, not knowing what to say or to do, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ brought her drink up to her lips, tossed her head back, finished it in one quick gulp and set her glass down on the coffee table.
I wanted to take her in my arms and end all this nonsense, but I couldn’t.
She had to do this on her own volition.
I would not coerce her into it.
“I’m really sorry, Durgesh,” I heard her sob as she sat buttoning her pajamas back up.
Then she pushed up onto her feet and almost ran over to the door.
It was over, I told myself as I watched her fumbling with the chain lock.
When it was undone, she grabbed hold of the doorknob and jerked the door open.
She started to step out into the hallway, but stopped.
As she turned back to face me, I could see the angst in her face.
As she stood there looking at me with tears streaming down her cheeks I saw her mouth the words, “I love you so much . . . I’m so sorry . . .” Then she was gone.
My brain was mush.
We had been so close, yet so far away from turning our coquetry into something else.
Turning it into the real thing.
But now it was done.
Our secret desires were all laid out on the table.
It was Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ’s turn to play her cards and see if we had a winning hand . . . or find out we’d just gone bust.
Getting up, I mindlessly shuffled over to the door, slowly slipped the chain lock back into its slot and locked the door.
I wanted to hit something.
Hit something and vent some of the annoyance I was feeling.
But I didn’t.
As I picked up our glasses to take them over to the sink, I noticed that something was missing.
Where was my key card?
I knew that I had tossed it on the coffee table when I had come back from dinner.
Bending down, I looked under the table thinking that it had somehow gotten knocked off while I had been watching TV.
But there was no card.
Where had it gone?
It was like a brick hitting me squarely between the eyes.
Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ?
Had Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ taken it?
And if she had, what was she planning to do with it?
Was she going to come back?
Was she going to use it to get back into my room later tonight?
A sizzle of expectant excitement shot through my Uncut Hindu Lund that had been slowly subsiding from its previous aching hardness.
What other explanation could there be?
Suddenly I was alive with anticipation.
But I had to be sure, I told myself as I dropped to my knees on the floor by the coffee table.
Bending down, looking under the table, I reached under it and swiped my hands from side to side searching everywhere, making sure that I hadn’t overlooked it.
There was no card!
It was gone.
She must have taken it.
Standing back up, I looked over at the door expecting to see her come stepping back inside with the card in her hand and a mischievous smile on her lips.
Then I saw the chain was locked.
If she did come back later, she wouldn’t be able to get in.
Stepping back across the room, I quickly unfastened the chain lock.
Smiling, I watched the little chain swing back and forth a couple of times before it came to rest dangling down from the lock.
This was all a little foolish, and dangerous, I told myself.
What if a burglar sneaked in?
He, or she could rob me blind.
But hoping that Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ might come back, it was a risk I was willing to take.
Flicking off all the lights except the little night light by the door, I hurried down to the bathroom.
I took the shortest, quickest shower in the history of mankind and Moments later; I was lying in my bed waiting.
Waiting to see what Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ had in mind.
The anticipation of her return had already worked its magic on my Uncut Hindu Lund which was lying on my belly, hard and stiff.
I was ready.
Ready to show Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ that making love didn’t have to be like it had been between her and that bastard, Muħammad Åbdullah.
I would show her how love was supposed to be.
I hadn’t been in bed more than ten minutes when I thought I heard something.
My heart was pounding so hard though; I could barely hear anything over it and the roar of blood coursing through my fevered brain.
Listening as hard as I could, I thought I heard the door being closed.
Was it Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ?
Or was it a thief?
There was no way to tell.
I would just have to wait and find out.
I couldn’t make anything out in the dark as I lay there waiting.
The only light was the light coming from the nightlight out by the front door and all that provided was the faint outline of the door in the dark of the room.
Then I saw the shadowy outline of a figure step into the doorway.
Even in the dim light, I could see that outline of the body was that of a Musalmān Beauty.
It was Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ.
I thought my heart was going to leap out of my chest as I lay watching her standing in the doorway.
As I lay waiting, I realized that I had stopped breathing.
Taking a quick breath, I saw Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ hesitantly step into my bedroom and slowly make her way toward my bed.
The bale of cotton that had suddenly appeared in my mouth was so big you could have made a mattress out of it as I tried to swallow and found I couldn’t.
Finally, she was so close I could have reached out and touched her as I felt the bed shake when her leg bumped up against it.
“Durgesh . . .” I heard Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ whisper.
“Yes, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ, I’m here,” I whispered back afraid to make a noise or touch her, afraid I would frighten her away.
“I came back,” she said in a low, husky voice that was quavering with emotion.
“Don’t be frightened,” I told her as I reached out to her. “I won’t hurt you . . . I promise,” I told her in the most soothing, soft voice I could find.
Then my fingertips brushed against her leg.
But it wasn’t warm skin I was touching.
It was the silky smoothness of nylon.
She was wearing nylons!
For some strange, bizarre reason, that made this all seem even more exciting than it already was.
What else was she wearing?
I had to see.
I wanted to see how she had come to me.
“Can I turn the light on? I want to see you. I want to see how beautiful you are,” I groaned.
But I didn’t have to move as I was suddenly blinded when the lamp on the nightstand by the bed flashed on.
Blinking my eyes, trying to get them to work again, it took a good five or ten seconds before I could see again.
When I could see I saw Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ standing by the bed looking down at me with a frightened, panicky look on her pretty face.
She looked terrified.
“Eīshān, God, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ , you’re so beautiful,” I moaned, letting my eyes play down her excellent exquisite outstanding stunning dazzling young adult Musalmān body as I lay looking up at her.
Her long, auburn hair was hanging down over her shoulders and her big, beautiful Musalmān breasts were bare, softly quivering in cadence with the rushed rhythm of her breathing.
As my eyes moved lower, I saw that she had a lacy, little garter belt wrapped around her waist with six long, elastic garters stretching down to the tops of her sheer, black hose.
Somehow, the black garters stretching down, framing her little, pink excellent exquisite outstanding Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Pussy made it seem even more vulnerable and delicate.
In the harsh glare of the light from the lamp, I could see that the fleshy, pink lips of her excellent exquisite outstanding Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Pussy were glistening wetly, covered with the evidence of her arousal.
And down below, her tiny feet were encased in a pair of black, patent-leather stilettos with at least four-inch spiked heels.
“Do I look silly dressed like this?” she asked in a trembling voice.
“Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā, Oh, God, no, Honey, you look beautiful,” I groaned, reaching out, wrapping my arms around her hips and pulling her against me.
As I did, my lips quickly found the soft, moist succulence at the tip of her flat, firm belly.
Snaking my tongue out between my lips, I found the hard nub of her ravenous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān clit and flicked it.
“Oh, Durgesh,” I heard her groan as her hips twitched and she pressed herself against my face.
I wanted to taste her, to touch her like this, to smell her, but laying the way I was it was very awkward.
Leaning back away from her, I let go of her and grabbed hold of the sheet that was draped across me.
Flinging it back off me, I sat up and swung my legs off over the edge of the bed.
“It’s big—bigger than his—” I heard Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ gasp and I saw that she was staring down at my Uncut Hindu Lund as it jutted up from between my legs.
“I won’t hurt you, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ,” I whispered pushing up onto my feet in front of her.
Gently clutching hold of her waist, I shuffled us around until the backs of her long, curvaceous legs were pressed against the bed.
Then taking hold of her by the shoulders, I gently, but forcefully pushed her down onto the bed.
“What? What do you want me to do, Durgesh?” she asked me as she slowly melted down onto the edge of the bed. “Tell me what to do.”
“Lay down,” I whispered, continuing to force her down onto her back.
Finally she was lying sprawled out, half on and half off the bed with her butt resting on its edge.
Her long legs were stretched out in front of her, bent at the knees with the soles of her stiletto high-heels resting on the carpet.
As she lay looking up at me with that same frightened, panicky look in her beautiful Musalmān eyes, I slowly knelt down on the floor in front of her spectacular, smooth Musalmān legs.
Reaching out, I gently slipped my hands down between her knees and began to push them apart.
Strangely, I felt the muscles in her spectacular, smooth Musalmān legs tighten.
“What do you want me to do, Durgesh?” she asked in a quavering voice.
“Spread yourself for me, Extremely beautiful Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ. Open yourself so that your Hindu lover can show his love for you,” I murmured feeling the resistance melt away as her spectacular, smooth Musalmān legs slowly parted to bare the secrecy of her Musalmān Sex to me.
I was almost overcome by my love for My friend, Raħmān Sheikħ’s Sister, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ , as the beautiful rose between her spectacular, smooth Musalmān legs unfurled to expose the cream-filled furrow between the delicate, pink lips.
Leaning down, starting at her nylon-clad knee, I slowly kissed my way up her thigh toward the precious treasure that awaited the touch of my Hindu lips.
Softly nibbling and kissing, I made my way higher and higher across the expanse of soft, bare Musalmān skin between the top of her stocking and her waiting excellent exquisite outstanding Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Pussy.
Softly blowing, I let my warm breath wash over the wet, sticky folds of flesh.
I heard her gasp, her fingers digging down into the mattress as I felt her squirm.
Then, slipping my arms under her spectacular, smooth Musalmān legs, I lifted them up and gently deposited them on my shoulders.
I could feel the backs of Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ’s stockinged calves and her high heels brushing against my back as I inhaled deeply and savored the heady, musky-sweet smell of her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān sex.
Leaning lower, I gave her oozing excellent exquisite outstanding Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Pussy a long, firm kiss, and then another, feeling her soft outer lips opening under my lips.
“Durgesh,” she softly moaned again and then made a surprised little noise as my Uncut Hindu Lund found her ravenous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān clit again.
Lashing the swollen nub with my Uncut Hindu Lund , I felt her shudder deeply as her fingers clawed deeper into the mattress.
As I rubbed, I felt the back of her heels dig into my back as she tried to find the leverage to press herself against my eagerly-rubbing Uncut Hindu Lund .
Burrowing my Uncut Hindu Lund into the excellent exquisite outstanding Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Pussy that I had been dreaming about ever since I had returned, I lost myself in the sweet, silky velvet of the soft, slippery flesh.
I could feel the heat emanating from the opening of her excellent exquisite outstanding Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Pussy as I probed it with my stiffened Uncut Hindu Lund .
Her spectacular, smooth Musalmān legs were trembling, her cute, excellent, exquisite, firm, round, spectacular, smooth Musalmān thighs squeezing against my waist tighter and tighter as my Uncut Hindu Lund eagerly explored her soft Musalmān folds.
“Is it good,” I asked her, lifting my Uncut Hindu Lund long enough to murmur.
“Allah, yā Allah! God, yes,” she groaned out as I felt the erect, exposed little nub under my Uncut Hindu Lund .
The Moment I felt it, I let my Uncut Hindu Lund flutter, knowing exactly where to touch her to bring her the most pleasure.
Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ seemed lost in her own, little world as I heard a choked gasp waft down to my ears.
Her Musalmān ass was wriggling and squirming around so wildly I was afraid she might slip off the bed as I rubbed on the precious Musalmān delicacy between her trembling legs.
Chancing a look up, I saw that her big, flattened Musalmān breasts were heaving up and down with anxious, excited breaths, as her wide beautiful Musalmān eyes stared straight up at the ceiling.
Wanting to prolong her excitement and protract her pleasure, I slowed my Uncut Hindu Lund, giving her gentle, luxurious rubbing and felt her shudder as her beautiful Musalmān eyes drifted shut.
I exulted in the sheer Sexuality of it all, my own arousal throbbing and pulsating down between my legs as I burrowed my Uncut Hindu Lund deeper, swirling it lightly around her ravenous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān clit and then dipping it inside her.
Reveling in the sweet, tangy flavor that coated my Uncut Hindu Lund , I ran it from the top of her slit to the bottom, rubbing it from side to side, exploring every little nook and cranny of her excellent exquisite outstanding Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Pussy.
As I did, I was finding many sensitive spots judging from her shaky breathing and little gasps of pleasure.
I knew that I could do this forever and I never wanted to stop.
Letting my Uncut Hindu Lund slide deep inside her, I almost moaned, reveling in the heady flavor of her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān sex.
The sweet tartness of the nectar flowing from her Panjvaqtah Namāzī excellent exquisite ardent Musalmān Choot and the excited scent of her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān sex was filling my head and my mind as I swirled my now-slippery Uncut Hindu Lund over her ravenous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān clit.
I heard another soft moan escape out from her lips as I slowly accelerated.
Rubbing the little bead out of its fleshy sheath, I vibrated my Uncut Hindu Lund on the tip and felt Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ’s hips lift off the bed while her heels dug into my back.
I could sense her finish was near as she strained against me, grunting and groaning with the effort.
Then, all of a sudden, her hips lurched as she grunted softly and gasped.
Her hips jerked several more times, twitching, lurching while I enjoyed deeply of the delicious nectar flowing from her contracting, dilating excellent exquisite outstanding Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Pussy on my Uncut Hindu Lund .
I lost track of time and didn’t know how long it had lasted for her, but finally another deep shudder spasmed through her excellent exquisite outstanding stunning dazzling young adult Musalmān body and she slowly began to relax, her excellent exquisite outstanding stunning dazzling young adult Musalmān body going totally limp, her breathing suddenly deep and labored.
Lingering between her outstretched legs, I gently rubbed her more before I slowly lifted my waist off her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān sex and looked up to find her big, blue eyes looking down at me.
As they did, they had that unfocused, dreamy look in them that Musalmān Beauties have in their eyes after they come.
“Was it good for you, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ?” I softly asked as I eased her spectacular, smooth Musalmān legs down off my shoulders and set her feet back down on the floor.
“Oh, Durgesh, Durgesh, it, it was the best one I’ve ever had,” she gushed. “Kiss me—
Struggling up to my feet, I stretched out my arms to support myself as I leaned down over her and found her rose-petal soft lips with mine.
As I did, I felt her hot, little tongue force its way into my mouth.
I thought I was going to pass out from all the blood pouring down into my steel-hard Uncut Hindu Lund.
It was so hard, it ached.
Finally, gasping for breath we mutually broke the kiss.
As we did, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ dug her elbows down in the mattress and using her elbows and the pointy heels of her high heels pushed herself back onto the middle of the bed to make room for me.
“Are you sure you want to do this, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ?” I asked her, wanting her more than I’d ever wanted anything in my whole life, but wanting one last confirmation before the final desecration. “What do you want, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ? What do you want?” I frantically asked knowing that if I didn’t do something soon; my Uncut Hindu Lund was going to be wastefully spurting its creamy load out into the air.
“I want you to come inside me, Durgesh . . . I want to feel like a Musalmān Beauty again. I don’t want to feel like Muħammad Åbdullah’s slut. I want to be my Hindu lover’s Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān lover,” she whispered, smiled, slowly running her hand down to her excellent exquisite outstanding Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Pussy and fingering the lips of her hot, oozing excellent exquisite outstanding Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Pussy open. “Come inside your friend’s extremely beautiful sister, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ.”
“Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā, Oh, God,” I groaned, dropping down onto my all fours over her.
Dipping my hips, I lowered my Uncut Hindu Lund down toward the tiny, forbidden opening between My friend, Raħmān Sheikħ’s Sister; Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ’s outstretched legs.
Would it fit, I frantically wondered, staring down at the small opening as she pushed my Uncut Hindu Lund down until the big, goo-slathered head brushed up against the opening of her excellent exquisite outstanding Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Pussy.
She had said he hurt her.
And she had also said that I was bigger.
“Put it in, Durgesh, put it in me,” she gurgled out, lifting her hips and pushing her excellent exquisite outstanding Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Pussy back against the tapered head of my Uncut Hindu Dick.
Surely I was going to heaven for this, I told myself as I lowered my hips and pushed my Uncut Hindu Lund down into the strangling tightness of My friend, Raħmān Sheikħ’s Sister, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ ’s tight, almost-virgin excellent exquisite outstanding Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Pussy.
A frown etched her forehead as she strained back against my Uncut Hindu Lund.
I’d never had an excellent exquisite outstanding Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Pussy as tight and wet as My friend, Raħmān Sheikħ’s Sister, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ’s recently, as I pushed into her forcing the evil creature down into the clinging Musalmān depths of her inviolate Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān vagina.
Then suddenly, I felt the Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān muscles encircling the opening relax and my big, hard Uncut Hindu Cock went sliding down into the clutching tightness of her Panjvaqtah Namāzī excellent exquisite ardent Musalmān Choot.
I couldn’t stop the plunge and my Uncut Hindu Lund went sliding down into the core of her Musalmān Beautyhood, stopping only when my hairy Hindu groin nudged up against her hairless, shaven Musalmān mons.
“Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā, God, I love you, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ —” I groaned out, grinding myself against her, slowly twirling my hard, stiff Uncut Hindu Lund around in the tight, muck of her excellent exquisite outstanding Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Pussy.
“It doesn’t hurt—it doesn’t hurt—” she whimpered, looking up at me as if I had performed some kind of miracle. “It feels good. So, so good—” she murmured as I felt her tight, little excellent exquisite outstanding Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Pussy clutch down around my embedded Uncut Hindu Lund.
I ought to kill that son-of-a-bitch, I angrily thought.
He’d given poor Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ six months of hell before I came back to save her.
I think he’d actually convinced Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ that she was a slut and his entire problem was her fault.
My poor, sweet Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ, I’ll never let another man hurt you, my extremely beautiful Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ.
“Yesssss . . .” she hissed out, clutching her excellent exquisite outstanding Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Pussy tighter down around my Uncut Hindu Lund as she pushed herself back up at me. “I am your Musalmān Beauty . . . you made me feel whole again, My Hindu Lover . . .”
“So hot! So tight!” I gasped out, jerking my hips back and pulling my Uncut Hindu Lund back down the juice-flooded channel of her hot, little excellent exquisite outstanding Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Pussy.
“So big! So hard!” she groaned out, grabbing at my Uncut Hindu Lund with her excellent exquisite outstanding Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Pussy as I sent it plunging back down into the searing heat of her Panjvaqtah Namāzī excellent exquisite ardent Musalmān Choot.
In a sick, twisted way, it was almost like giving her back the innocence Muħammad Åbdullah had stolen from her as I worked my Uncut Hindu Lund in and out of her at a feverish pace.
Somehow, it was as if I had given her self-dignity back to her.
I had given it back to her.
She was truly my Musalmān Beauty now, I feverishly thought as our bellies ground together.
We were now one, joined in the sickest way imaginable.
Hindu man and Musalmān Beauty.
Man and Musalmān Beauty.
Ashvinātam lovers taking part in a sanctification of all that was good and decent.
“My Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ . . . my Dear, Sweet Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ ,” I groaned out, groveling as I fucked My friend, Raħmān Sheikħ’s Sister, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ , with deep, powerful Hindu strokes.
“Yes, oh, yes, Durgesh, yes, like that! Fuck me like that . . .” she hissed, thrusting herself back up at me.
I felt myself flying.
Flying above into a heavenly place no man ever found himself.
I felt myself falling in love with the beautiful Musalmān Beauty who lay below me.
The one Musalmān Beauty in the whole world I had every right to love this way.
It was the fiery, possessive love a man feels for his lover.
The love that could consume a man and drive him crazy with envy and possessiveness.
I wouldn’t ever let another man touch her . . . No other man would ever have her this way . . . I would kill to prevent that!
But that was something we could worry about later.
Now, I must bring her pleasure.
Show her that our love was so much more.
Show her that I would never mistreat her like Muħammad Åbdullah had.
After all he was a Musalmān.
I must give her another orgasm.
I must show her what it was like to be a Musalmān Beauty.
What it was like to be loved by a man who would do anything to bring her pleasure.
Stiffening my arms, I looked down on her as I furiously worked my hips back and forth, driving my Uncut Hindu Lund in and out of her hot, slavering excellent exquisite outstanding Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Pussy.
She had her spectacular, smooth Musalmān legs bent at the knees, feet resting between my calves, and thrusting them down onto the bed as she humped herself up at me.
Her head was thrown back and her beautiful Musalmān eyes had a wild, crazed look in them as she fucked herself back at me.
I could feel her sharp fingernails digging into my skin as she pushed and pulled on me, urging me on, urging me to fuck her harder and harder.
The fiery pressure down inside my flopping Hindu balls was building and I knew that I was about to blow.
“Yes—Yes—oh, Yes, Durgesh—Yes—” she hissed, her fingers clawing, digging into my sweaty skin. “Make me come, Durgesh, make me come,” she pleaded, straining, thrusting herself back up at me as I mercilessly pounded my Uncut Hindu Lund in and out of My friend, Raħmān Sheikħ’s Sister, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ ’s hungry Panjvaqtah Namāzī excellent exquisite ardent Musalmān Choot.
Fighting to hold back the impending explosion, I worked harder, driving my charged Uncut Hindu Prick in and out of her at a feverish pace.
“Come, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ, come, my sweet,” I panted, humping her for all I was worth. “I—can’t—hold—it—back—much—longer—” I grunted out between thrusts.”
“Almost, Durgesh, almost, I can feel it, I feel it . . .” she growled out.
Biting her lower lip, she gazed up into my eyes with a distant, faraway, unfocused look.
I could see and feel that she was nearing release.
The muscles in her arms and legs were already quivering and straining as she fought closer and closer to her finish.
Her beautiful breath-taking ever erect Musalmān boobs were bouncing up and down wildly in rhythm with the pounding attack I was inflicting on her excellent exquisite outstanding Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Pussy.
But she was taking it all without a hint of complaint.
I could feel the pool of molten cream down inside my balls growing hotter and hotter as they flopped back and forth slapping up against My friend, Raħmān Sheikħ’s Sister, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ’s sweaty, upturned beautiful Musalmān butt.
My great ashvinātam love for Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ was filling my brain with its divine power.
It was a love that had shoved aside my brotherly love for her and replaced it with this . . . this divine love of her and her excellent exquisite outstanding stunning dazzling young adult Musalmān body.
It was a love I had never felt before.
And now that it was happening, it was quickly overwhelming me.
I would never be the same.
Now that she was mine, I could never share a love so deep with anyone else . . . ever!
Then I felt her slowly lift her long legs up into the air and gently drape them down over my back.
As she did, I could feel the little spiked heels of her shoes gently tapping against my butt every time I drew back to send my Uncut Hindu Penis back down into the strangling tightness of her excellent exquisite outstanding Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Pussy.
I could feel the burning precursor of my eruption filling my balls with its incandescent insistence.
Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ was straining up against me, thrusting herself up at me on every deep, thrusting stroke.
Fighting to hold it back, I had to bring her over the top first.
Give her the pleasure and satisfaction she so wanted.
Then, all of a sudden, I felt her excellent exquisite outstanding stunning dazzling young adult Musalmān body stiffen as she thrust herself up against me and pulled me down against her.
“Oh—Yessssssss—” she hissed out, digging her heels down into my ass and forcing me even deeper into the depths of her spasming Panjvaqtah Namāzī excellent exquisite ardent Musalmān Choot as it grabbed and clutched at my buried Uncut Hindu Prick.
“Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ,” I bellowed out as a fireball of electricity burst down inside my balls making my Uncut Hindu Lund explode down deepest inside My friend, Raħmān Sheikħ’s Sister, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ.
This was the Moment, I frantically thought.
This Moment that would forever be burnt into my memory.
The Moment Raħmān Sheikħ’s beautiful Sister and I had consummated our ashvinātam wedlock.
Suddenly, as if a shock wave had washed over me, I felt my whole body begin to liquefy, morphing into a molten mass of semen as it spurted out through my jerking, twitching Uncut Hindu Lund into the sacred sanctity of My friend, Raħmān Sheikħ’s Sister, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ’s almost-virginal purity.
“Yesssss . . . yessss, Durgesh, yessssss!” she screamed out, holding me clutched against her as she quivered and shook below me while she was being incinerated by the fiery heat of her orgasm.
But much too soon, it was over!
The sanctification was done!
I had possessed her and made her mine . . . my Musalmān Beauty!
She was no longer just My friend, Raħmān Sheikħ’s Sister, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ, . . . now she was my lover!
“Durgesh,” she murmured, her beautiful Musalmān eyes finally fluttering open as she looked up into my eyes.
The love flowing between us was overpowering.
I had never felt such passion . . . such love!
It consumed me, filling me with its addictive power.
I wanted to tell her how I felt . . . but I couldn’t find the words.
Simple words couldn’t express the profound deepness of the love I felt for her.
I wanted to tell her just what she meant to me, but there weren’t words that could adequately describe how much I loved her!
Now that we had stepped over that fine line between lust and love, I knew it was going to be almost impossible to balance on the delicate, tightrope of emotions we had created.
How could we possibly disguise our love for each other in front of her parents?
Finally, my mind in superiority, I slowly backed my softening Uncut Hindu Cock out of her cum-drenched excellent exquisite outstanding Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Pussy and rolled over beside her.
“What now, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ?” I finally asked as we lay beside each other, our breathing and our heart rates slowly returning to normal.
“I don’t know, Durgesh, but I don’t want this to ever end,” she whispered, reaching over and letting her fingertips slowly trail down the line of my jaw. “How do you feel about it, Durgesh darling, méré Hindu Piyā, Hindu Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt, hum Musalmān ħasīnāon ké Hindu Kħasam, Hindu husband of us Musalmān Beauties?”
“I’ve never loved like this before, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ,” I groaned. “It’s fair. you are My friend, Raħmān Sheikħ’s Sister, Nādirah Naåīmuddīn Sheikħ. I’d Live in Relationship with you and never let you out of my sight.”
“Oh, Durgesh, Durgesh, Durgesh,” she softly murmured, snuggling up against me and giving me a soft, lingering kiss on the cheek. “We’ll find a way . . . I know we will.”
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
1: Of my Musalmān friends
Åādilah Sheikħ trailed off, letting go of Ħamīdah Sheikħ and stepping back away from her.
“”Well, I never… And just how long has this been going on?”
“Only since yesterday, if you have to know,” Ħamīdah Sheikħ said, leaning back and proudly thrusting her big, firm breasts out at her Kħālājān Åādilah Sheikħ. “And how long have you been planning to sneak over here and proposition my Hindu lover? Or are you just going to a masquerade party dressed like that?”
“I would never have guessed,” Åādilah Sheikħ said, “Not in a million years. And it’s none of your business how I’m dressed.”
I couldn’t decide what to do.
I stood there with my hands at my side, my robe open and my Uncut Hindu Cock standing proudly between my legs.
I smiled as I watched the two Musalmān Beauties who held my future course in their hands.
“What are you doing here dressed in those things?” Ħamīdah Sheikħ smirked at her Kħālājān Åādilah Sheikħ, still trying to get her to answer. “You were going to seduce my Hindu lover weren’t you?”
“I guess we’re all guilty as sin,” Åādilah Sheikħ finally admitted, holding her head in her hands. “We can’t breathe a word of this to any one. Can we all keep this a secret?”
“We had planned on that, until you came along,” Ħamīdah Sheikħ said sarcastically.
“Well, I’m sorry that I disturbed you,” Åādilah Sheikħ said quietly, slowly getting to her feet. “I will let you go back to whatever evil, twisted thing that you were doing before I so foolishly interrupted you…”
“You came over here to fuck Ħamīdah Sheikħ’s Supreme Experienced Hindu lover, Durgesh darling, méré Hindu Piyā, Hindu Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt, hum Musalmān ħasīnāon ké Hindu Kħasam, Hindu husband of us Musalmān Beauties! Didn’t you?” Ħamīdah Sheikħ said, reaching over and running her fingers down her Kħālājān Åādilah Sheikħ’s tight little gorgeous Musalmān ass. “So why don’t you stay?”
“My…Ħamīdah Sheikħ…you certainly have a foul mouth,” Åādilah Sheikħ scolded her, brushing her niece’s hand away from her scantily clad derriere. “Yes…I did come over here to…fuck…fuck…your Hindu lover as you so crudely put it…but I hadn’t planned on sharing Durgesh with my niece.”
“So,” Ħamīdah Sheikħ laughed tensely, moving her hand down to her Kħālājān Åādilah Sheikħ’s long shapely leg and caressing it through the silky hose. “If you were going to seduce my Hindu lover if I hadn’t been here, just pretend I’m not here…I’ll just watch.”
“Ħamīdah Sheikħ. Don’t you have a decent bone in your body?” Åādilah Sheikħ gasped.
“I had a very decent bone in my body until you interrupted us,” Ħamīdah Sheikħ giggled wickedly. “Didn’t I, Durgesh, Ħamīdah Sheikħ’s Supreme Experienced Hindu lover, Durgesh darling, méré Hindu Piyā, Hindu Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt, hum Musalmān ħasīnāon ké Hindu Kħasam, Hindu husband of us Musalmān Beauties?”
“Allah Allah, Ħamīdah Sheikħ. You are a brazen little pussy aren’t you?” Åādilah Sheikħ said, turning to look at her Hindu brother-in-law standing in the doorway with my big, standing Uncut Hindu Cock proudly between my hairy legs.
“Durgesh?” she mumbled, feeling foolish for being taunted by a teenager.
“Wouldn’t it be better,” I smiled. “If you really continue your goal forgetting Ħamīdah Sheikħ’s presence here?”
“Look, Kħālājān, none of us can ever tell anyone about it anyway. Right?” Ħamīdah Sheikħ leered, “So let’s just get it on and let the pieces fall where they might.”
“I would still feel funny, you know. Doing it with my brother-in-law while my real brother in law Raħmān Sheikħ’s daughter, Ħamīdah Sheikħ, watched. How kinky can you get?” Åādilah Sheikħ tried not to blush.
“Just pretend I’m not here,” Ħamīdah Sheikħ told her.
“I’ve never even done it with…with…with another Musalmān Beauty watching…much less my niece,” Åādilah Sheikħ said, slowly sitting back down on the bed.
“Would you like for Durgesh and me to do it and let you watch us first?” Ħamīdah Sheikħ grinned evilly.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Åādilah Sheikħ said, blushing brightly. “This is all so confusing and that sounds so…so wicked.”
I could see that Ħamīdah Sheikħ was wresting all control from her Kħālājān.
She was slowly taking charge of the explosive situation.
“Ħamīdah Sheikħ’s Supreme Experienced Hindu lover, Durgesh darling, méré Hindu Piyā, Hindu Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt, hum Musalmān ħasīnāon ké Hindu Kħasam, Hindu husband of us Musalmān Beauties! why don’t you take your robe off and come over here so that Kħālājān Åādilah Sheikħ can see how beautiful your big Uncut Hindu Penis is,” she smiled benevolently.
Butter wouldn’t melt in her Panjvaqtah Namāzī extremely beautiful Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān mouth, I thought to myself, priding bright red as I slipped my robe off and let it fall to the floor.
Then, suddenly feeling like Lord Kr’shñ himself at an auction, I marched proudly over to the bed.
Stopping before the two Musalmān Beauties, I stood there letting their beautiful Musalmān eyes feast on my impressive Uncut Hindu Penis.
“See, Kħālājān Åādilah Sheikħ?” Ħamīdah Sheikħ giggled. “See how pretty it is?”
Åādilah Sheikħ didn’t speak.
She just stared down at my proudly standing Hindu monster.
“Feel it, Kħālājān Åādilah Sheikħ. Take it in your hand and feel how heavy it is,” Ħamīdah Sheikħ leered at her Kħālājān Åādilah Sheikħ. “Wouldn’t you like to feel it inside your hot, little Panjvaqtah Namāzī young Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt?”
Åādilah Sheikħ didn’t move.
Smiling maliciously, Ħamīdah Sheikħ slowly reached over and took hold of her Kħālājān Åādilah Sheikħ’s hand.
Lifting it, she brought it over to my big, erect Uncut Hindu Prick.
“Sit down between us, Ħamīdah Sheikħ’s Supreme Experienced Hindu lover, Durgesh darling, méré Hindu Piyā, Hindu Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt, hum Musalmān ħasīnāon ké Hindu Kħasam, Hindu husband of us Musalmān Beauties!” she mewed. “Kħālājān Åādilah Sheikħ wants to make you even harder. Don’t you, Kħālājān Åādilah Sheikħ?”
Slowly, like a proud conqueror, I sat down between them.
Gasping for air, I felt Raħmān Sheikħ’s daughter, Ħamīdah Sheikħ’s tongue probing my mouth as my sister’s-in-law hand lay lifelessly against my Uncut Hindu Cock.
But even without any assistance from my sister-in-law, my Uncut Hindu Cock began to swell and harden all on its own.
Åādilah Sheikħ couldn’t believe this was happening.
She couldn’t believe what she was doing as she stared down at her illegal Hindu brother-in-law’s giant Uncut Hindu Penis slowly hardening right before her eyes.
Finally, she gave it a tentative squeeze and felt it immediately respond by surging and growing harder.
Growing braver, she wrapped her hand around my growing Hindu manhood and gently began to stroke it.
As she did, she felt my wicked proud Uncut Hindu Prick swelling harder and harder.
Watching it in awe, Åādilah Sheikħ was amazed to see it growing larger and larger, so fast.
It seemed like only seconds ago it had been soft and limp but now it stood before her, proud and hard, ready to do its gratifying deed.
Looking up from the jutting monstrosity, she saw Ħamīdah Sheikħ’s and my lips finally part.
She could hear our heavy breathing, huffing and puffing like we had just run a hundred yard dash as we stared into each other’s eyes like she wasn’t even there.
“Allah Allah, God, Ħamīdah Sheikħ’s Supreme Experienced Hindu lover, Durgesh darling, méré Hindu Piyā, Hindu Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt, hum Musalmān ħasīnāon ké Hindu Kħasam, Hindu husband of us Musalmān Beauties! you’re making me all wet and sticky inside,” Ħamīdah Sheikħ panted, looking down at my bloated Uncut Hindu Cock. “And Kħālājān Åādilah Sheikħ made you all big and hard again. Didn’t you, Kħālājān Åādilah Sheikħ?”
Åādilah Sheikħ didn’t know what to say, looking away from her niece’s smart mocking leer.
Then she found her eyes sneaking down to her niece’s Ardent Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Pussy.
Ħamīdah Sheikħ’s Ardent Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Pussy was indeed wet and oozing a little stream of juice down onto the bed.
This can’t be happening, she told herself, as she felt a tremor of excitement shoot through her own Ardent Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Pussy. She was having bizarre reaction to the situation.
She had come over to seduce her brother-in-law, but now, now she found herself strangely attracted to her niece.
She had never felt such an attraction toward another Musalmān Beauty before.
Sure, she found My bloated Uncut Hindu Prick exciting and knew that it would feel wonderful inside her, but now she had an almost uncontrollable urge to touch her niece’s dripping little Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān gash.
Touch it and kiss it.
Kiss it and taste the juices flowing from it.
What was coming over her, she asked herself, as she stared down at the glistening folds of soft, pink, dew-covered flesh?
She had never felt this way toward any other Musalmān Beauty.
Dizzied by her newfound attraction to her niece, Åādilah Sheikħ suddenly became aware that her own juices had started to flow and now she was herself all wet and sticky down between her legs too.
“I don’t know if I can share Ħamīdah Sheikħ’s Supreme Experienced Hindu lover, Durgesh darling, méré Hindu Piyā, Hindu Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt, hum Musalmān ħasīnāon ké Hindu Kħasam, Hindu husband of us Musalmān Beauties! with you,” Ħamīdah Sheikħ gurgled.
“Huh?” Åādilah Sheikħ mumbled, shaken from her reverie by Ħamīdah Sheikħ’s voice.
“I said, I don’t know if I want to share Durgesh‘s Uncut Hindu Cock with you,” Ħamīdah Sheikħ repeated reaching down and wrapping her hand around my big, fat Uncut Hindu Cock just above Åādilah Sheikħ’s hand.
“It is a handsome Uncut Hindu Cock,” Åādilah Sheikħ said, squeezing My Uncut Hindu Cock and watching a big drop of prefuck juice dribble out the tiny hole in the center of its big, bloated head.
Marveling at her niece’s audacity, she watched Ħamīdah Sheikħ dip the tip of her finger into the glistening drop of my Hindu jizm and spread the slippery sap over the big purple ball of hardened Hindu flesh.
“I’ve changed my mind, Kħālājān Åādilah Sheikħ,” Ħamīdah Sheikħ suddenly blurted out, grabbing Åādilah Sheikħ by the hand and tugging her to the center of the bed. “I’m going to let Ħamīdah Sheikħ’s Supreme Experienced Hindu lover, Durgesh darling, méré Hindu Piyā, Hindu Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt, hum Musalmān ħasīnāon ké Hindu Kħasam, Hindu husband of us Musalmān Beauties! fuck you first.”
Åādilah Sheikħ blushed deeply as she felt herself being forced down onto her back.
Then after a flurry of movement, she found herself with her head in her niece’s lap staring up at me standing at her feet.
Suddenly Ħamīdah Sheikħ reached down and unhooked her Kħālājān Åādilah Sheikħ’s bra.
Spreading it apart, she took her Kħālājān Åādilah Sheikħ’s big beautiful, conical Musalmān breasts in her hands, squeezing and fondling them as Åādilah Sheikħ stared down at me.
I was just standing there smiling down at her with my raging Hindu erection pointing up at the ceiling.
Why even the stunning Musalmān houseladies are having pride nowadays in having extra marital sexual relations with Durgesh, or if Durgesh is not available, with other Capable Hindus available to them.
Standing on the pocked, asphalt, circular driveway, before her broad multi story Saůūdī Årab mansion, waved a last time to her just eighteen, just adult, youngest sister, Navīdah Sheikħ Åbbās.
Navīdah Sheikħ Åbbās was in the back seat of the Mercedes that was a part of the daily car pool taking her to the Makkah Mukarramah University.
It was the latest University in Makkah Mukarramah.
They called it Multiversity instead.
Ved Nagar India was its marvellous Headquarter.
Who had even thought ever that such a University, Multiversity to be precise, would be established in Makkah Mukarramah.
Al Saud’s mankind never allowed any such activity in their regime.
Now, however, Saiyadah Fātimah PhD was the lifelong Chairperson of ‘Al Muslimāt Al Åālmīn’.