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Chapter 17

Durgesh Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī

I smiled to myself.

Eīshān, I’m acting like a kid on my first date, I thought as I put the bottle of Chardonnay on the table.

I hope that Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī likes it.

She’s been away at University for six whole months now.

I wonder if she has changed.

Too bad, Waħdat couldn’t be home, too, but her career always came first with her.

Just like tonight, she was in Atlanta attending a Real Estate conference.

It seemed like there was a conference of some kind every other week.

And she could easily have skipped this one because she had attended one on the same subject only a couple of months earlier.

Sometimes it seemed like I was just a necessary accouterment to make it look like she had the perfect family.

She put up the façade of having the perfect Live in Relationship, with two perfect children and a loving Hindu husband.

But I knew the real story.

SI treated him like a piece of furniture that she could move around anywhere to suit her purpose.

And their sex life was the same with her giving in once or so a month.

But even then it was a perfunctory offering to keep him from complaining all the time.

Sometimes he felt like chunking it and moving on, but there was still Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī and Mr’tyunjaý Joshī.

Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī was away at University in her freshman year and Mr’tyunjaý Joshī was a senior in high school.

Well, as soon as they both were truly up and out on their own, then, then I would think about it.

Maybe I would confront Waħdat Ħabīb Qurayshī and sort things out.

See if there was anything salvageable in our Live in Relationship.

But not now.

Tonight Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī was home from University and I was going to wine and dine her and treat her like an adult.

Not the little girl I had sent off to University six months ago.

Steaks, wine, and maybe a night club afterwards.

After all, she was nineteen now.

Wondering just how much Ħabīb Qurayshī’s little girl had changed in the six, short months I heard the front door opening.

She’s here.

My sweet, little Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī is here, I told myself as I hurried into the living room.

Eīshān, I thought to myself as I saw WaħdatĦabīb Qurayshī and Ħabīb Muħammad Qurayshī’s daughter step into the room.

She was so beautiful.

A Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab  Wahābī Musalmān Sex goddess.

The most beautiful girl in the world.

No, not any more.

She was now the most beautiful woman in the world as Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī seemed to have blossomed into maturity during the six, short months she had been away.

“Are you okay, Durgesh,” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī smiled at me, “you look funny.”

“Oh, my, my, Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī,” I burbled out, as my knees threatened me to grow weak and I felt lightheaded. “Oh, Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī, you’re, you’re so beautiful, darling.”

“Oh, Durgesh,” she giggled, reaching out and wrapping her arms around me. “You always did know how to make me feel so good.”

I wrapped my arms around her and we stood there in the middle of the room hugging as if it had been years since we had seen each other.

Then, after a few moments, I suddenly became aware of WaħdatĦabīb Qurayshī and Ħabīb Muħammad Qurayshī’s daughter’s big, warm Musalmān breasts pressed against my Hindu chest.

I didn’t remember her being so well endowed, but then, I had never really paid much attention to Waħdat Ħabīb Qurayshī and Ħabīb Muħammad Qurayshī’s daughter’s physical attributes before.

After all, she was Waħdat Ħabīb Qurayshī and Ħabīb Muħammad Qurayshī’s daughter and fathers didn’t think about their daughters in that way.

But, now, it was somehow different.

And if I was any judge of women’s apparel, I would swear that Waħdat Ħabīb Qurayshī and Ħabīb Muħammad Qurayshī’s daughter wasn’t wearing a brassiere.

It felt like the only thing covering her big, warm Musalmān breasts was the soft, knit sweater she was wearing.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I slowly backed away from her, holding onto her arms, I ran my up and down her body.

“My, my, my,” I murmured.

She had her hair pulled up in some kind of turbanish hairdo that made her look older, but to me Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī still looked only thirteen or fourteen with her beautiful, elfish face.

Her big, brown eyes stared back at me innocently, but her full, red lips belied that sweet innocence.

And the opulent swell of her big, warm Musalmān breasts underneath the thin knit sweater acclaimed her newfound maturity, as did the curving sweep of her hips underneath the thin, short skirt she wore.

Finally, I let go of her and stepped back.

“You’re beautiful, Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī,” I swooned.

“Durgesh,” she purred, seductively batting her big, brown eyes, “You always did know how to make me feel all grown up.”

“Well, you are all grown up now. Look at you,” I smiled back at her.

Looking into her face, I didn’t see the nineteen-year old girl I had sent off to University, instead, I saw an expectant fourteen year-old just back from her first prom, her face beaming with happiness and anticipation.

Her whole face was lit up with the smile that beamed back at me.

Suddenly, I felt my heart fluttering with an unusual excitement.

“Goodness, Durgesh,” she laughed softly, “you look like you’ve never seen me before.”

“My, Dear, Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī,” I groaned, trying to curb the strange feeling that had come over me. “I haven’t seen you before. Not like this. Not the way you look tonight.”

“What? Whatever do you mean?” she modestly asked me, standing up straighter and thrusting her big, warm Musalmān breasts out ever so slightly as a faint blush spread out across her chubby Musalmān cheeks.

“I mean,” I grunted, not able to keep from running my eyes up and down her body for a second brief instant, “I mean, you’re all grown up. You’re a Musalmān Beauty  now.”

“You really think so?” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī grinned, stepping around me.

Laughing softly under her breath, Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī let the soft roundness of her big, warm Musalmān breasts graze my arm as Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī did.

I couldn’t tell if it had been a purposeful move on her part or just an accident fueled by my overactive imagination.

“Yes, I do,” I laughed aggressively, yet suddenly cautious of being alone with the exceptionally beautiful creature that was walking across the room sensually swishing her gorgeous excellent exquisite glamorous firm round extremely enticing Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab  Wahābī Musalmān buttocks from side to side.

Damn Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and her Jet Musalmān Beauties Squad.

They had absolutely destroyed my normal sophisticated feelings to the just eighteen Musalmān Beauties.

I’ve fucked them now in such a large number, and in such a large number they are themselves still fucking me that now I was absolutely incapable to find them attractive and not to think of sex with them.

It was just a second nature to me now.

I couldn’t even imagine now there could be anything unjust or abnormal in it.

How the experiences change humankind radically.

“Where’s Ammījān?” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī asked nonchalantly, casually, looking back at me over her shoulder as Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī set her purse down on the table and turned around to face me.

“Away at another conference,” I said, strolling over to the table, trying not to let my disapproval of Waħdat’s absence show. “Atlanta, this time. Remember, I told you when you called last week.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right, I must have forgotten,” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī smiled virtuously. “I see nothing has changed.”

“I’m sorry, not,” I smiled. “Just more of the same.”

“Well, don’t you worry, Durgesh, my dear Live in Relationship Partner of my Ammījān, and Not, Certainly Not my Abbū.” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī laughed softly. “Now little Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī is here to take care of her Hindu boyfriend Durgesh.”

“Nonsense.” I scolded her, “you haven’t changed too. Now you are grown up, darling. You must understand these words have another meaning. And yet it’s about time. I really missed not having your smiling outstandingly beautiful face around,” I said.

“And where’s Mr’tyunjaý Joshī, my younger stepbrother? Ammījān hated you once so much that she left Abbū, not for you, instead for Pralayankar Joshi, your Maharashtrian Brāhmañ sālā, brother in law, and now father of Mr’tyunjaý Joshī, my younger stepbrother.” she nonchalantly asked.

I laughed.

“Even she couldn’t anticipate that it could bring her closer to you and she would really fall for you head long foot.” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī smiled ironically.

“It happens sometimes, Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī.” I smiled, “However, your memory must be going, because I told you that Mr’tyunjaý Joshī was away at camp for another week,” I said, aggressively fidgeting with the tableware, somehow feeling strangely self-conscious that Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī and I were all alone in the house.

Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī could start something sexual.

She never accepted me her stepfather.

“Ammījān is changing Live in Relationship Partners as if she is changing her dress.” She had commented furiously.

“You’re right. I must be getting old to be so forgetful,” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī smiled with childlike innocence as Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī seemed to be reading my mind. “So it’s just the two of us here all alone.”

“I’m sorry so,” I told her, “but I’ll try not to be a fuddy-duddy, stick-in-the-mud.”

“Oh, Durgesh, you’re not a stick-in-the-mud. Why, at University, I bragged all the time about what a great male companion to a girl you were,” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī laughed. “And I’m certain that we’ll have a good time because I’m going to do everything I can to make sure that we do.”

“Okay,” I laughed back at her, a little uncertain of what she meant. “How do steak, salad, a potato, and wine sound? Followed by a night out on the town with your dear old Durgesh.”

“The dinner sounds great, but,” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī paused, running the pink tip of her tiny tongue over her full, red lips, “I think I’d like to pass on the night out on the town and spend it at home with you. Okay? I’ve never had you all alone like this.”

“Great,” I beamed, stumped by her choice to spend the night at home with me instead of out dancing, “I’ll just get the cook steaks going then.”

She had never shown any interest in spending time with me alone before, I thought.

But maybe being away at University had changed her somehow. Whatever, it was pleasant to find that Waħdat Ħabīb Qurayshī and Ħabīb Muħammad Qurayshī’s daughter now valued my company. And I wasn’t going to rock the boat.

“Do you have anything stronger than wine?” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī asked me, sauntering over to the bar.

“But, of course,” I smiled, “and since you’re all grown up now, you can help yourself.”

“I will,” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī said.

To me, her voice sounded like the tinkling of a precious, silver bell.

I didn’t wait to see what Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī chose as I hurried out to the grill.

Then, in a couple of minutes, Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī came wandering out onto the patio with two glasses in her hands.

“Whisky and coke okay, and juice for you?” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī asked me offering me my juice.

“Sure,” I said, taking the drink from her.

“Here’s to a lovely evening,” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī tittered, clinking her glass against mine and then taking a dainty sip of her drink.

“Here, here,” I said taking a healthy swig off my juice.

Time seemed to flow and before I knew it, dinner was over, the table was cleared and the dishes were packed away in the dishwasher.

“Thank you for a superb dinner,” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī said as Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī stepped up to me and put her arms around my neck. “I haven’t felt this happy in a long, long time.”

“I’m glad you feel that way,” I smiled hugging her and feeling the warm glow of her gorgeous glamorous excellent exquisite Panjvaqtah Namāzī young adult Saůūdī Årab  Wahābī Musalmān body against mine, through the thin layers of our clothing. “But you make me feel both happy and sad at the same time.”

“What do you mean?” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī asked me disentangling herself from my arms and taking a couple of baby steps back away from me. “Why do you feel sad?”

“It’s just that I sent my little baby away to University,” I said, my eyes filling with tears as I tried to hold them back, “and Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī comes back home all grown up. I miss my little Baby.”

“Don’t you like me, anymore?” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī pouted, pushing out her lower lip and looking up at me with her big, brown eyes.

“Of course, I do,” I laughed softly, reaching out and running my hand down over her softly-sloped shoulder. “But it is just different. I can’t explain it. Of, course, I still love you, but you’re not my little baby any more. That’s all.”

“I think I understand, but I’ll always be your little baby,” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī said, turning slightly, so that my hand brushed against the soft swells of her young adult breast.

“Uh, uh, well, ” I smiled, sophisticatedly pulling my hand back away from her breast as if I had just touched a live wire.

Smiling mischievously, Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī picked up her drink, and took another lady-like sip.

Her mischievous smile was a warning to me that she was again on her old mission to express to me deliberately that I wasn’t her father neither I ever could be.

One more Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan?

Hating her Ammī?

Loving her real Abbū?

Eīshān, how many Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasans there would be in my life?

Yes, I haven’t any X chromosome in my system, but can’t I even have a single nominated daughter?

Why can’t I have a platonic relationship with even a single female in the Multiverse except with my own Ammī Ħuzūr?

“Is my room still the same?” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī asked me, turning and stepping toward the stairway leading to the upstairs bedrooms, “or did Ammījān turn it into a sewing room like she was always threatening to do?”

“No, it’s the same way you left it,” I laughed as I watched her stroll toward the stairs, “except that it’s clean.”

“Funny, funny,” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī smirked, crinkling up her nose and smiling at me over her shoulder.

“Your Ammījān is too busy with Real Estate to have time to do any sewing,” I sarcastically said, following Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī to the stairs.

“I know,” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī said.

“You want to see it?”

“See what?” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī snickered, stopping on the bottom step and looking at me impishly.

“See your room, of course,” I smiled, stopping several feet from her. “What did you think I meant?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī laughed out loud, seemingly amused at my somewhat discomfort, as Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī started up the stairs.

Cautious  by Waħdat Ħabīb Qurayshī and Ħabīb Muħammad Qurayshī’s daughter’s curious behavior, I followed the sway of Waħdat Ħabīb Qurayshī and Ħabīb Muħammad Qurayshī’s daughter’s youthfully round hips with my eyes as Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī climbed the stairs.

“Aren’t you coming?” she wanted to know as Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī paused on the landing waiting for me.

“Sure, why not?” I smiled, clutching the railing as I climbed the stairs.

It was almost as if she were luring me down to her bedroom, I thought as I neared the top of the stairs.

As if she had something else in mind.

Something other than a visit to her old bedroom to reminisce about the old days.

“I can’t believe this,” she giggled, taking my hand and tugging me down toward her bedroom. “Just think. Six months ago I was a little high-school girl getting ready to leave for University. And now, now I’m back. I’m back and I’ve learned so much. I feel so, so grown up.”

“Well, what have you learned?” I asked her as Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī pushed the door open and stepped into her room, pulling me with her.

“Oh, it’s just the same as it was when I left,” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī laughed softly. “Nothing has changed.”

“Maybe your room didn’t change,” I said solemnly, “but you certainly have. And what was it you learned at University?”

“I’ve learned all kinds of things,” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī bubbled, letting go of my hand and pirouetting around the room like a ballet dancer.

“Oh?” I grinned.

“Yeah, I learned more than book stuff. I learned just how much I missed you. Durgesh, my dear Live in Relationship Partner of my Ammījān, and Not, Certainly Not my Abbū, I missed you so much and it made me so home-sick I cried,” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī said, spinning around, making her short skirt flair out, revealing even more of her long, luscious legs.

“Missed me?” I asked. “You never said anything. You never missed me before. And you never let on that you were going to miss me after you left. What happened to change all that?”

“It was just so lonely there,” she went on breathlessly as Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī finally stopped twirling. “I was lonely and I was afraid to, afraid to have anything to do with boys because, because, well you know.”

“Know what?” I wanted to know, not sure I was following the drift of her story but I couldn’t help but watch her big, warm Musalmān breasts heaving underneath the thin sweater while Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī tried to catch her breath. “As pretty as you are, you should have had to fight the boys off.”

“I, I, well, it was just about like that,” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī said, plopping down on her bed and dropping her hands back and leaning back on her arms as Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī talked. “But they were, they were boys. Not a man like, like you. No intelligent girl nowadays is interested anymore in foolish childish young, just adult, boys. We intelligent Beauties now love to have experienced boyfriend as you are.”

“Isn’t it dangerous?” I smiled.

Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī was all alert now.

“Dangerous? Nonsense. How?”

“We experienced men may not understand your raw physical needs as our needs are already fulfilled.”

Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī laughed.

“You lack feminine viewpoint fundamentally.”

“What do you mean?”

“My girlfriends are right. You are so absolute, so absolute, a man that you lack the practical feminine viewpoint absolutely.”


“You feel insulated? But I think I’m praising you.”

“Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī.”

“We, womankind, my dear, don’t need femininity in our male companion. We need them males the more they could be.”

“You are right, but―”

“If I’m right, there isn’t any space for any damn ‘but’. We intelligent girls now no more interested in foolish young male children. We want intelligent most experienced male companion who can take care of us both as our husband and as our guardian too.”

“Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī, you mean―”

“Yes. We want matured lover. Not male children. In living together at least one of us must be experienced to know the life game how to play. Shouldn’t one of the two be?”

“You must be crazy.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī.”

“Neither any of my girlfriends do.” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī smiled cunningly.

“I can’t believe it.”

“Neither Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, us Jet Musalmān Beauties nor our Jet Musalmān Beauties Squad do the idiosyncrasy.”*

We didn’t care about anything else, really.

All we cared about was one thing.

It was obvious what we wanted and I didn’t want it like that.”

” I certainly must appreciate all of you.” I smiled at her sarcastically.

What was Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī trying to tell me?

And what did she mean that the biys weren’t likeme? I was Not confused.

I clearly understood what she was leading me to.

Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī was playing a game with me I was the master of.

No, my little baby was not back.

It was a young Musalmān woman, quite adult, quite smart, quite feminist and not, certainly not, devoted to me anymore as my little girl was.

“They didn’t care about me,” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī said again. “All they wanted was one thing. And they  didn’t care how or where they  got it. There wasn’t any feeling and I didn’t want it that way. Especially, especially for my first time. I wanted it to be special. Can’t you understand that?”

“What? Do you mean you’re still a virgin, in these days of pseudo women liberation?” I incredulously asked gravely.

There was a genuine praise for her in my voice, a genuine appreciation.

So she wasn’t such a fool as the most of the just adult young women today?

That’s very good.

The Western Business Culture was so rotten that it had deliberately rotted almost everything moral in the present day society.

It never encouraged the virtuous persons who tried to fight with the uncontrolled feminism when it raised its dirty head in the then Western society.

Immoral selfish business persons deliberately supported the most immoral horniest womankind that fought to promote immortalities in the name of feminism.

The moral women were deliberately ridiculed when they tried to fight with the then immoral womankind enjoying the unlimited money and support of the then immoral grossly selfish business persons.

They used them as shameless models to advertise their products and to boost their business.
“Can’t you believe that?” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī fussed. “Why can’t you believe that I, I’m a virgin?”

“I just never thought, my dear. I’m sorry. I couldn’t separate you from the imprudent mob found everywhere nowadays.” I smiled at her with great appreciation. “You, you were always so popular and all the guys wanted to date you. I just assumed, oh, I’m sorry. I should’ve cared enough to find out, I guess.”

“Oh, it’s not your fault,” she too smiled now . “I should have told you. But I was so miserable, I didn’t know what to do so I just decided to come home and see you. I knew that I could count on you. You were always there for me when I needed you.”

“I tried to be,” I said, trying to sort through where she was heading.

“I know,” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī smiled softly. “You were always the one I came to when I needed anything. You always had the answer. You were always so wise. And even when you knew I was wrong, you would always be there to comfort me in the end. You were always there to teach me how it should be. To show me the right way.”

“That’s what fathers are for, dear,” I smiled, my heart swelling with pride. “I just hope that I can always be there for you. Wherever and whenever you need me.”

“That’s why I came home to you,” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī said, her voice so confident now that I again became cautious immensely.

“What’s wrong there, darling? What can I do for you?” I asked her, not even a bit confused by the erratic wanderings of her conversation.

“I want, I want you, you to be the one,” she smiled.

“The one? What do you mean?” I asked, understanding quite thoroughly what she might mean, yet playing innocent.
“I want you to be the one to, to, well, you know,” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī smiled confidently.

“You want, want me to be the one, the one to what?” I asked her as warning signals began to flash inside my head.

Could it be?

Could she want me to do what I was always trying to avoid since Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan came in my life?

Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was not simply one stepdaughter of mine that turned to be my Live in Relationship Partner.

She was infinite in one.

Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan started it as a movement among my other extremely beautiful Musalmān stepdaughters.

Hinduism didn’t encourage it ever, yet due to its particular nature it was not even against it if the Vr’tr stepdaughters coming from darkness with their Vr’tr mothers, wanted to maintain their own Live in Relationship with their now Hindu stepfather.

They were not responsible if their mothers found the same man suitable for them they also found.

In a society strictly following the rules of Kr’ñvanto Vishvamāryam, Imām nārīm sukr’té dadhāt, and ‘Indro nirjyotishā tamso gā aduxat’, no one could guarantee availability of sukr’ts in such a large number available to maintain exogamy for such so called ‘stepdaughters’ always.

My heart was pounding and my head was spinning as I contemplated the possibility of her request.

This was too much to comprehend.

I must be wrong.

How could I even contemplate such a thing?

Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī could never even consider what I was over cautiously thinking.

It had to be a figment of my own over cautious, over alert psyche, because she would never insist such a thing.

“I want, I want you to be the first, first one,” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī said, slowly standing up and turning to face away from me. “I want you to be my first and certainly the last lover. I’m a One Man Woman and so I want to remain forever.”

I couldn’t believe my ears as I watched Waħdat Ħabīb Qurayshī and Ħabīb Muħammad Qurayshī’s daughter standing by her bed with her back to me as she was doing something to the front of her sweater with her hands.

Suddenly, her skirt went slithering down her long, beautiful legs and puddled around her high heels Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī stood before me naked from the waist down except for a pair of whimsical green panties that barely hid any of her perfect round Musalmān ass from my grave eyes.

“Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī,” I said, trying to catch my breath as Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī slowly turned around to look at me. “What are you doing?”

Yet, I was unable to stop the spasm of electric excitement that fired off down inside my Uncut Hindu Cock.

I couldn’t be impotent not to react to her activities even.

And why should I be after all?

Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī was not actually my daughter; neither had she ever accepted any such platonic relationship with me.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī asked me, holding one arm under her beautiful, bare big, warm Musalmān breasts and raising her other arm up to clutch hold of her turbaned hair.

Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā,” I groaned unable to keep my eyes off her spectacular big, warm Musalmān breasts.

They were the most beautiful big, warm Musalmān breasts I had ever seen.

I couldn’t keep from gawking at them.

And why the hell should I keep from gawking at them?

To hell with the all impractical morals and ethics.

The most beautiful big warm Musalmān breasts of Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī were stunning.

Big, round as saucers, tanned to bronzed perfection, so heavy yet still erect, and yet still proudly swelled out in youthful Musalmān exuberance.

They were masterpieces.

Remarkable works of art that I marveled at them.

They were treasures of perfection with flawlessly round areolas of delicately pebbled flesh tipping each of the wondrous mountains of flesh.

And the hard, little nipples were sticking out in obvious excitement as Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī let me feast my eyes on her bare big, warm Musalmān breasts.

“I want my lover to be someone that actually loves me,” she whimpered, holding her arm underneath her heavy, pendulous big, warm Musalmān breasts, cupping one of the heavy udders in her hand and lifting it. “Someone who loves me and someone who won’t hurt me. You’re the only man that I trust to be loving and tender. Can’t I?”

“Oh, Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī ,  I would, I would, Darling, but I could never,” I muttered, finally able to tear my eyes off her big, warm Musalmān breasts but couldn’t keep them from running down over the perfection of her nubile, young perfectly adult Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab  Wahābī Musalmān body.

As my eyes flitted across her flat tummy, her sexy, little belly button accusingly stared back at me, seemingly like it was trying to remind me who she was.

Ignoring its warning, I explored the forbidden sanctity of her down-covered secret hidden underneath the sheer, white whimesy of her sexy panties.

“But I want you, I want you to be the one, Durgesh,” she murmured giving me the look she had always used on me to get her way back when she was still a child.

“Alright if you say so, but I could never do that to you, Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī,” I said gravely, no harm in arguments if she changes her mind. “You have no right to ask me to sacrifice our love that way. I’m your father, even if a stepfather. You can’t ask me to break the sacred covenant we share as a father and daughter. It would be so, so wrong.

“But, but I want the first time to be loving and soft and gentle and tender,” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī implored holding one arm above her head and digging her hand down into the soft swirl of her brown hair. “I can’t expect to have it that way with anyone else. Not with anyone else, but you. You, because you love me as much as I love you. And you would never do anything to hurt me.”

“But, Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī, you’ll find someone,” I tried futilely. “Believe me, some wonderful boy will come along and you’ll fall head over heels with him and it will be that way. The way you want it to be.”

Her long, brown hair came tumbling down like golden mahogany as she openly returned my look.

To me, she was the most exquisite creature on the face of the earth, but what she was asking of me was so unlikely, it could only bring us both to the brink of madness.

“But, I don’t want a boy, Durgesh,” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī declared. “I want a man. I want you, Durgesh, no one else. After all it’s a question of my entire life itself. How can you expect me to take any risk in such a delicate matter?”

Eīshān, Oh, God, Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī ,” I groaned, feeling an erotic sensation of desire fire off inside my Uncut Hindu Cock as it rapidly began to swell and grow inside my pants. “We, we couldn’t. It would be so, so wrong.”

“I don’t think so. Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan doesn’t think so. The Jet Musalmān Beauties don’t think so. Our entire Jet Musalmān Beauties Squad doesn’t think so.” she whined. “We could do it legally and I would know what, what real love was supposed to be like. Why can’t we do it? Do this for me and I’ll never ask you for anything else again. I promise.”

“It’s not natural,” I said somewhat curtly, “not normal for a man to make love to his own stepdaughter. It’s against everything good and right. It’s against the laws of nature.”

“I don’t agree with you. Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan doesn’t agree with you. Jet Musalmān Beauties don’t agree with you. Even our entire Jet Musalmān Beauties Squad doesn’t agree with you.” she too said curtly, turning and crawling up on her bed. “I’ve dreamt of being your wife. Since you are already married accept me as your new Live in Relationship Partner and oblige me, please. Okay, I agree. Don’t announce it now. Announce it after you get comfortable with me. It can be our secret. Our secret of our love for each other.”

I watched on in irritation as Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī stood on her hands and knees with her exquisite tits slowly swinging from side to side, gently bumping against each other as I openly gawked at them.

As I did she gave me a sultry, sweltering look that made me to make my knees stronger.

I could feel the strength flowing through my body as I fought to keep my irritation under control.

No matter how fervently I professed my own morality, I couldn’t keep my eyes off her gorgeous big, warm Musalmān breasts as they peeked out from underneath her arms.

She had such a beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī excellent exquisite Saůūdī Årab  Wahābī Musalmān body.

If she were any other girl, any other Musalmān Beauty but my own stepdaughter, I would kill to make love to her, but she was my own stepdaughter.

My own stepdaughter.

There must be an end to it somewhere.

Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan can’t make everyone of my stepdaughters my Live in Relationship Partner.

Would I fuck only just eighteens now?

Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is deliberately doing it.

How could I do such a thing to a precious child like her?

How could I desecrate such a beautiful and delicate chalice?

Yet, I could feel my Hindu manhood rebelling against my professed morality as it unfurled inside my shorts.

It was already painfully swollen and throbbing with impatience as I fought against its erotic power.

But I could feel my own self-control waning as I stared at Waħdat Ħabīb Qurayshī and Ħabīb Muħammad Qurayshī’s daughter.

She was so beautiful, I knew that I could only hold off the erotic craving inside me for so long before it overwhelmed me and made me do the horrible thing she wanted.

“Please. Please, Durgesh,” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī begged me ripping off her sweater and tossing it on the floor. “Durgesh, I’m begging you. Please make love to me. Accept my fundamental human right to choose my life companion myself.”

“But, Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī, we can’t, you should understand.” I whined feeling the last vestiges of control slipping from my grip as Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī leaned forward toward me openly flaunting the wonders of her gorgeous big, warm Musalmān breasts.

As we stared into each other’s eyes, I saw her eyes slowly drift downward.

Down to the painfully obvious lump sticking out in the front of my pants.

“I can tell that you want me,” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī said, gazing at the conspicuous bulge of my Uncut Hindu Cock that was jutting out against the thin material of my pants. “You want me as bad as I want you. I can tell. I can see that your thing is hard and ready. It’s hard and ready for you to make love to me. Please. Please, make love to me with it.”

The sheer eroticness of her words stunned me.

They were so depraved; it pushed me over the edge.

Now I had to have her.

Nothing could stop me now.

I would have her.

Make love to her and gratify the need Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī felt between her legs.

I would fuck her like any just eighteen would never be fucked again.

I would make wild, passionate love to her all night and all day until I had nothing left to give her.

Intuitively, Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī seemed to sense my surrender as a jubilant smile lit up her extremely beautiful  excellent exquisite Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent young adult Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān face.

“Yes,” she hissed as Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī reached out for me. “Yes. I want you so much.”

I groaned, ripping at my shirt, popping buttons and tearing material as I tore it off.

“Thank you Durgesh darling, méré Hindu Piyā, Hindu  Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt, hum Musalmān ħasīnāonHindu Kħasam, Hindu  husband of us Musalmān Beauties!” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī cooed, watching me flounder about trying to get my clothes off. “It will be equal to an eternity in heaven to feel your Uncut Hindu Cock inside me.”

Eīshān, Oh, God, how much you Musalmān Beauties love my Uncut Hindu Lund in your Musalmān Cunts. I’m honoured my darling. I’d fuck you till you exist if you want it.” I smiled as I was finally able to disentangle myself from my pants and kick them across the room.

“Oh, Durgesh, thank you. Thank you very much for allowing me on your bed forever. I want you to fuck me forever. I love you, méré Hindu Piyā.” she gurgled, seemingly surprised as my nine-inch prick, ripe and ready to do battle sprang out into the open. “Oh, Durgesh, it’s so big.”

“We can stop right now,” I grunted, kicking my shoes off and fumbling to shuck my socks off. “We don’t have to do this.”

“But I want to,” she whimpered soulfully. “I want you to make love to me. I just didn’t know, think, think that it would be so big.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, Baby,” I muttered, standing back up with my erotic benevolence jutting out in front of me.

I was completely naked now.

The only thing standing between me and the precious treasure awaiting me between Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī’s long, beautiful legs were her whimsical, little panties.

Proudly, I just stood there staring down at her as my giant Uncut Hindu Prick jutted out, superbly twitching up and down with every beat of my Hindu heart.

“If it’s too big,” I said softly, “we don’t have to do it. We, we can do other things. We don’t have to do that part of it.”

“But, I want to. I want you to, to make love to me,” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī complained, slowly rolling over onto her back and digging her thumbs under the stretchy waistband of her tiny, green panties.

Lifting her legs, bend them, she quickly pushed the panties down and off.

Then with a soft giggle, Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī tossed them at me and slowly spread her long, lovely legs apart.

“I want you to fuck me. Fuck me with your big, handsome Uncut Hindu Cock,” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī cooed.

Eīshān, God on high—” I smiled as I stared down at the slowly-unfurling beauty of the forbidden secrecy that lay between her legs.

“That is why,” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī said softly, reaching down and gently fingering the delicate, pink-petaled flower open, “why I wanted it to be you, Durgesh. I know you will be gentle with me.”

“Oh, my beautiful Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī,” I smiled, advancing toward the bed where Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī lay waiting for me.

“Oh, Durgesh,” she gushed, reaching for me as I crawled onto the bed.

My Uncut Hindu Cock was so hard, I felt like its head would split open at any second.

I had never been so hard and ready before recently.

I couldn’t believe what was happening.

It had to be a dream.

Or was it a nightmare, I asked myself?

A nightmare and I would wake up any second.

Wake up before I could consummate the ashvinātam union with Waħdat Ħabīb Qurayshī and Ħabīb Muħammad Qurayshī’s daughter.

My heart was pounding, my head was spinning and my whole Hindu body was quivering with ashvinātam expectation as I floundered up between Waħdat Ħabīb Qurayshī and Ħabīb Muħammad Qurayshī’s daughter’s beautiful, outstretched young adult Musalmān legs.

Standing on my hands and knees above her, I was in a daze of disbelief as I stared down at her with erotic anticipation.

She was a sorceress.

A gorgeous, seductive Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān sorceress spinning her ashvinātam spell on me.

A spell that would take both of us to eternity in her everlasting Jannat-e-Firdaus.

There was no turning back now.

Neither anyone of us wanted to now.

I had to feel my Uncut Hindu Cock inside her.

Inside the burning secret that lay between her beautiful Musalmān legs.

“Durgesh, Durgesh darling, méré Hindu Piyā, Hindu  Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt, hum Musalmān ħasīnāonHindu Kħasam, Hindu  husband of us Musalmān Beauties!” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī whimpered, looking up at me with her big, brown eyes filled with love, the beginnings of tears and just a hint of fright.

“Yes, yes, what, Dear?” I breathlessly asked as I readied myself to mount her.

“Can I, can I touch, can I touch it first?” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī whimpered, running her hand down my stomach to where the impatient Hindu monster ticked up and down excitedly. “Can I touch it and kiss, kiss it first?”

“Oh, Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī,” I smiled as my Uncut Hindu Cock lurched up and down wildly. “Oh, Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī, you, you want to, to do, do that now?”

“Yes, yes, Durgesh,” she gurgled, wrapping her hot, little hand around my massive Uncut Hindu Cock and gently tugging on it. “I want to, I want to touch it and kiss it and, and suck it. I want to taste it with my Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān mouth, before, before I taste it with my, my Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent young adult Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot. my Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent young adult Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot is one of those ever luckiest my Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent young adult Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choots that enjoy your unique legendary Supreme Experienced Uncut Hindu Lund every Musalmān Beauty dreams of.”

Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā,” I growled, straddling her and slowly crawling up until my monstrous Uncut Hindu Prick bobbed up and down above her soft, red lips.

“Durgesh, Durgesh, it’s so, so big, big and handsome,” Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī cooed as Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī stared up at the gigantic slab of rock-hard Uncut Hindu Cock eroticly dancing above her extremely beautiful  excellent exquisite Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent young adult Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān face.

I felt like my heart was going to explode any second as I watched on in stunned silence as Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī flicked out her soft, pink Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān tongue and slowly ran it up the entire length of my swollen Uncut Hindu Prick.

My Uncut Hindu Cock felt like it was about to burst as I felt the soft tickle of her pink Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān tongue skimming over the sensitive skin of my Uncut Hindu Cock, lapping its way up and down my Uncut Hindu Cock.

Being tongue-whipped by any Musalmān Beauty was a delightful experience, but when the Musalmān Beauty was just eighteen, it was ecstasy.

Kħālidah Ħabīb Qurayshī smiled triumphantly.

Ultimately she had succeeded in her mission.

Where there is a will there is a way, of course.

She hadn’t disclosed she was the Commander of the just eighteen Musalmān Beauties in Jet Musalmān Beauties Squad.

It wasn’t needed.

Long live Kħātūn-e-Jannat Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan.

She had promised her the Presidency of just eighteen Musalmān Beauties in Al Jihād fil Durgesh fī sabīlillāh too.

The only condition was she had to be my Live in Relationship Partner forever successfully despite my every effort not to let her.

The secret climate of Ummat-e-Muslimah, held as private as any Masonic rite, for most of its Just eighteen young adult Musalmān Beauties, one of empty monotony, boredom, confusion.

Most of them had to fight with their extremely backward Musalmān guardians even to get educated.

Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan had especially prepared a squad of Just eighteen young adult Musalmān Beauties themselves within her Jet Musalmān Beauties Squad to help such unfortunate Musalmān Beauties in getting as much and as high education as their brains could afford even with efforts if necessary.

They deliberately used to make friends with such potential Just eighteen young adult Musalmān Beauties.

Then with the help of other Jet Musalmān Beauties they helped their new Just eighteen young adult Musalmān Beauties friends in solving their educational problems with priority.

“The Musalmīn male scoundrels are organized under the disguise of Pseudo Islam.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan used to say, “To defeat the Pseudo Musalmīn tyrants we need our own organization. But an organization of damn fools is as worthless as there is no organization at all. So get proper education first before being organized. An organization of foolish women can’t fight successfully with the ever tyrant religiously organized tyrant Pseudo Musalmīn. Get highly educated Musalmān Beauties organized therefore and then fight with the ever enemies of the entire womankind, Pseudo Musalmīn, until they are defeated forever.”

Chapter 18