Āmnah Azhar laughed impishly,
In Surah (56)AI-Waqi`ah the same thing has been described as Kitab-um-Maknun (the hidden and preserved Book) and in Surah (85)AI-Buruj 22 as Lauh-i Mahfuz (the Preserved Tablet), that is, the Tablet whose writing cannot be effaced, which is secure from every kind of interference.
By saying that the Qur’an is inscribed in Umm al-Kitab, attention has been drawn to an important truth.
Different Books had been revealed by Allah in different ages to different Prophets for the guidance of different nations in different languages, but aII these Books invited mankind to one and the same Faith: they regarded one and the same thing as the Truth; they presented one and the same criterion of good and evil; they propounded the same principles of morality and civilization; in short, they brought one and the same Din (Religion).
The reason was that their source and origin was the same, only words were different; they had the same meaning and theme which is inscribed in a Source Book with Allah, and whenever there was a need, He raised a Prophet and sent down the same meaning and subject-matter clothed in a particular diction according to the environment and occasion.
Had Allah willed to raise the Prophet Muhammad (upon whom be His peace) in another nation instead of the Arabs, He would have sent down the same Qur’an in the language of that nation.”’
“What do you want to say actually, Āmnah Azhar?”
“Don’t tell me that you didn’t understand.” Āmnah Azhar smiled, “I would never believe. You are too wise that no one can believe you didn’t understand.”
“And why does Allah need to keep this Source Book with him?”
“Simple, so that there could never be any alteration Allah doesn’t want in the Source Book.” Āmnah Azhar smiled triumphantly, “Stupid question. I never thought you can’t understand even such a simple necessity.”
“I see.” I smiled patiently, “So, you think Allah can save this Source Book, Alkitāb, from any unwanted alteration only if it’s with Him? As soon as it’s out of His exclusive possession, Allah is, Shanno Mitrah, never capable to keep it safe from it? You really think Allah is that much incapable, Shanno Mitrah sham Varuñah shanno bhavatvaryamā!”*
Her partner and Al Samīnah Al Faraħ had just broken up.
It wasn’t that big of a deal, but she had probably been the one Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was most ready to settle down with.
They’d been together for a year.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ had thought that they were on a great track that had a promising future.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was optimistic that within the coming years there would be equal rights and at least general acceptance of their lifestyle.
However, when Al Samīnah Al Faraħ told her that she didn’t think that Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was truly a “lesbian”, she took offense.
It didn’t matter that Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was genuinely attracted to her, or that they had great chemistry.
In the end, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ wasn’t “real”.
Her bisexuality was a problem and it brought to an end what seemed so bright only days before.
As a result, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ ended up back home over New Year’s Day weekend.
That’s kind of how Al Samīnah Al Faraħ got into the situation that she currently found herself in.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was thinking that Al Samīnah Al Faraħ would just get some time away from the pressures of office and the break up and take a breather.
Her sisters, normally her support crew, were off enjoying their own lives in different parts of the world and were probably out working it with someone special for the big January 1.
Not Al Samīnah Al Faraħ.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ would just be home alone with me.
That’s the other part of her situation, I.
Despite being extremely loyal to the Pseudo Islam and Kashmir valley, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ loved me to death, but sometimes I was a bit over mature.
Growing up with a coop immensely full of hens, I learned almost everything about them.
Three daughters and their Ammī.
Naturally, I got quite clued in.
When Al Samīnah Al Faraħ asked to come over for the holiday, I had promised her a fun care-free time.
And I had delivered.
I managed to take her mind off her break up, her ex, and getting acclimated to a life of singleness all over again.
Course, I managed to do that by getting us both smashed.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ had driven the hour from office to the house Al Samīnah Al Faraħ had grown up in and had arrived to find a sizable amount of alcoholic beverages and liquors spread out across the counter tops.
Never surrendered to me for keeping Alcohol out of their life.
Sometimes, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ thought whether Durgesh is really right.
They wanted to establish Islamic supremacy on Hindus either this way or that way.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī was neither nude nor he needed to.
I was nude and serving his extremely beautiful young Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān wife, Āmnah Azhar with my Sixty five years old, utmost experienced, utmost talented, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund penetrating her young Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot profoundly.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī was lying on his back on the bed.
Āmnah Azhar wasn’t alone enjoying his such services.
Al Nādirah Al Ghāzī was the everfirst that used her younger brother’s tongue for it.
Then it was Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī, their Ammī.
Then their beautiful Musalmān houseladies.
His tongue was so expert in this service now that he was more popular among needy beautiful Musalmān houseladies and their beautiful Musalmān ladyfriends as a tongue service provider than as a normal man even.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī even enjoyed our Ashvinātam sexual orgasms when our secretions naturally fell into his open mouth.
I knew their activities were not normal.
After Narendr Modi won the election 2014 and became the 15th Prime Minister of India, Al Nādir Al Ghāzī’s such services were so much in demand that he approached other similar minded Pseudo Musalmīn friends of him and started a regular tongue service providing commercial network.
Shankar Mahāpralayankar, Sidrah Aħmad and Rājesh Rājpūt were approached, and they delightfully congratulated Al Nādir Al Ghāzī and his similar cuckold Musalmān friends for providing such superb services to Hindus and their Musalmān beloveds.
“It’s a totally new approach. Of course, Durgesh, Imām Muħammad Ħasan, and similar over humane Hindus would never appreciate it, but the Hindu society is not made of such ever impractical persons only.”
“Let’s get you ready,” Lākhan Singh said.
He stood in front of Shamīmah Iftikħār and expertly pulled her nightgown over her head.
Shamīmah Iftikħār couldn’t believe this was happening.
Now Shamīmah Iftikħār was breathing so hard it felt like panting.
Lākhan Singh put his hands on her ankles.
“Relax,” he said.
Then he propped her legs up on the couch so Shamīmah Iftikħār was spread wide open.
Shamīmah Iftikħār ached for release.
Shamīmah Iftikħār had already gotten herself going before, now this was something out of a fantasy.
Shamīmah Iftikħār tried to grab his head and keep it there.
He took her hand and stepped aside.
Shamīmah Iftikħār realized someone was standing there- no, five people.
The crowd outside was now in the house.
He was maybe twenty-five with a smiling, eager face.
Brown hair, average build, and naked.
Shamīmah Iftikħār stared at it.
4-5 inches long.
Her stomach felt tight, her hands shook a little.
He stroked himself for a few seconds, eyes locked on her naked skin.
Shamīmah Iftikħār saw a tiny drop of precum on the tip of its head.
Shamīmah Iftikħār closed her eyes, trying to control her breathing.
This is what Shamīmah Iftikħār wanted, right?
But Shamīmah Iftikħār can’t!
Not like this.
Her breath stopped.
Shamīmah Iftikħār felt Lākhan Singh squeeze her hand again.
Well, that’s what they said was at stake!
Vīr Vikram Pratāp pushed all the way in, then slowly started fucking Shamīmah Iftikħār in a steady rhythm.
Each one felt different.
Each experience was amazing.
Rājesh Rājpūt laughed.
“We Pakistani Sunni Musalmān women love Durgesh, but we hate you, Rājesh Rājpūt! Shankar Mahāpralayankar! Sidrah Aħmad! You are crazy persons. Durgesh is of course radically different from you communal animal Hindus.”
Shankar Mahāpralayankar laughed.
“Rājesh Rājpūt, Shamīmah Iftikħār, the great Pakistani Sunni Musalmān politician loves Durgesh, the Anant Muslimātchod Hindu, instead of us. Durgesh is really a miracle. Entire beautiful Musalmān houseladies want to get his Sixty five years old, utmost experienced, utmost talented, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund into their Musalmān Choots without any single exception even.”
“Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan Bājī and her ever enthusiast Young Musalmān Lady Brigade is managing it all. they cunningly, shrewdly and intelligently plan to advertise the fantastic attributes of Durgesh’s Sixty five years old, utmost experienced, utmost talented, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund. I see even every beautiful Pakistani Sunni Musalmān Choot is crazy to get it inside her.”*
It was still dark outside when I opened my eyes.
My Sixty five years old, utmost experienced, utmost talented, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund was still buried entirely into her still miraculously tight Panjvaqtah Namāzī Pakistani Sunni Musalmān Choot.
Alas, Muħammad Naåīm couldn’t give her what I could, neither money, nor sex.
I smiled to myself as I looked at it.
It was the 3rd night of our ten-day vacation in Kashmir valley.
It was the reason Sāliħah Faisal separated herself from Muħammad Naåīm.
“It’s wrong. It’s a sin in Islam.” Muħammad Naåīm had refused Sāliħah Faisal outright.
“Well,” Sāliħah Faisal thundered, “I’m your wife, and I love it.”
Muħammad Naåīm was startled
“Isn’t my ass extraordinarily beautiful?”
“Of course, it is. Of course, it is. But it doesn’t mean…”
“What do you mean ‘Why?’? It’s wrong. It’s a sin.” Muħammad Naåīm was quite surprised.
“I hinted you before our marriage.” Sāliħah Faisal said curtly.
“You said you’d see to it.”
“That’s right, Sāliħah Faisal, but…”
“No but, you promised me. I need it.”
Muħammad Naåīm didn’t oblige her and it brought Sāliħah Faisal ultimately to me.
Still smiling, I quietly slid out of bed and went into the bathroom to relieve myself.
Turning the light back off before I opened the bathroom door into the bedroom, as not to disturb Sāliħah Faisal, I quietly grabbed my robe from the chaise at the foot of the bed and slipped it on.
Opening the door of our room, I quietly crept out and walked down the hall of our dull jheel side condo.
HVSI owned several beautiful enormous structures in Kashmir valley.
I always enjoyed this time of the day.
I enjoyed watching the sunrise before the world awoke and got its day started.
Making sure as not to make any noise and wake the kids up, I put some coffee on.
Once the kids were up our day would be nonstop.
Well, at least when the boys woke up.
My boys from Sāliħah Faisal, Devesh and Shubhesh, were 11 and 9.
Her oldest was Sāliħah Faisal’s daughter, Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm.
She was 19.
Once my coffee was ready, I poured myself a cup and walked to the sliding glass door that lead out to the deck.
I walked out on to the deck, quietly slid the door and closed behind me.
I pulled a chair close to the edge of the deck and sat down in it.
Promptly propping my feet up on the railing in front of me.
I inhaled deeply the aromatic aroma of my coffee before enjoying the first sip.
I was a man at peace.
I owned my own consulting firms under HVSI and it made a good living for my entire families.
My friend, Muħammad Naåīm’s wonderful extremely beautiful wife, of 22 years, Sāliħah Faisal, was a wedding consultant.
Between the two of us, our incomes afforded us opportunities I would have loved to have as a child myself.
As I reflected, I thought about our children.
Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm was 19 and was my girl to the core.
Her own Abbū, Muħammad Naåīm, was a loser in her eyes.
She was sympathetic for him, yet he wasn’t her hero, I was.
A loser can get sympathies, but none wants to be as him.
He was ‘poor Abbū’, as far as Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm was concerned.
She had graduated high school the year prior and was just completing her first year of junior college.
I was so proud of her.
No one could deny that Sāliħah Faisal’s oldest was a beauty indeed.
With her stunning looks, she had landed her first modeling gig at sixteen.
At 5’7, she had chocolate brown eyes and they were framed by long spiky lashes.
Her hair that hung just at her shoulder blades was thick and a light honey brown color.
It complemented her flawless creamy coffee complexion.
What made it worse, from a fatherly perspective, was how curvaceously shaped her body was.
Although she modeled, she was no string bean.
I had no idea her exact chest size or clothing size, but I did know that she had very full breasts, a curvy waist and an ass, that when she wore a bikini made men do double takes.
This didn’t bring comfort to me, however.
That was the baby girl they were ogling.
Nevertheless, what surprised me even more was how comfortable Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm was with her body.
Not that I wanted Sāliħah Faisal’s daughter, to have a distorted body image, but she was comfortable to the point that around the house she wore things that Sāliħah Faisal would have to remind her to cover up because she had brothers.
At the shore of the jheel, it was even worse.
The back of her bikini bottom, if one could call it that did little to hide her wonderful Pakistani Sunni Musalmān assets.
I always teased her and called her double trouble because she had brains and beauty both.
I would tell her she would be a formidable match for any man.
I didn’t worry as much about Devesh and Shubhesh as I did Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm.
Devesh was more a rough and tumble boy, whereas Shubhesh was the more sensitive one.
I chalked that up to the fact that Shubhesh was definitely an Ammī’s boy through and through.
Sāliħah Faisal babied him almost to a fault.
That was the one area Sāliħah Faisal and I, as parents, disagreed with each other the most.
I felt that she babied Shubhesh too much and was making him too dependent on her.
Sāliħah Faisal felt that I never came to her defense where Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm was concerned.
Sāliħah Faisal and Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm butted heads, the older Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm got.
That, however, doesn’t mean that they didn’t have a good mother daughter relationship, but Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm’s fiercely independent spirit definitely had its moments when it clashed with Sāliħah Faisal’s over protective mothering.
When Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm turned 18 and started being a bit less conservative, in her manner of dress, that was when they really started butting heads.
Less conservative meaning her clothes tended to accentuate that body that I was so cautious for her about.
However, I believed Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm to be an adult and she should be allowed to make her own decisions.
I was so lost in my musings that I didn’t seem to notice the time passing and the sky was just starting to lighten.
As my eyes scanned out on the shore of the jheel, I noticed someone out there.
My, I thought, someone’s out here even earlier than I am.
As my eyes focused, the person appeared to be maybe doing yoga out on the shore of the jheel.
It was hard for me to tell.
I leaned a bit forward in my chair and let my eyes focus.
It appeared to be a woman.
She was on her back with her legs tucked under her.
Her back was arched though pushing her chest high into the sky.
Her arms were stretched out beside her and her head resting on the sand.
The light in the sky was lightening up enough that I was starting to see a little clearer.
My eyes widened and my mouth gaped open as I discerned two things at once.
One, the woman wasn’t wearing a bikini top.
I could clearly see the definition of her full breasts.
Her nipples pert and pointing in the air.
But secondly, and more importantly, that woman wasn’t just any woman, it was Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm.
I was dumbfounded.
Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm was topless and doing yoga on the shore of the dull jheel.
As if completely oblivious to me sitting there, Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm got up from the position she’d been lying in.
She stood with her back to me.
I suddenly remembered Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan.
Was Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm doing the same thing?
I, still sitting there now saw that she was not just topless but bottomless as well.
Something in my brain told me to get up and go in the house.
However, I sat there almost paralyzed.
I’d seen Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm’s butt before, but covered a little at least with a bikini bottom.
But now, with her back to me I had a completely unobstructed view, and the view was incredible.
Her cheeks were plump and full. The kind that a man could lose my load over doing her from behind.
I felt a distinct reaction to this thought.
My face didn’t froze, in horror, as I realized looking at Sāliħah Faisal’s daughter’s ass was giving me a hard on.
It was normal for me now.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s Just Eighteen Just Adult and Al Jihād fil Durgesh fī sabīlillāh movements had made my brain convinced that it was normal for me to lust and have sex with even Just Eighteen Just Adult Musalmān girls.
If I didn’t oblige them, they turned out to be my bitterest enemy.
While if I obliged them, they were my everbest friends instead.
“It’s a delicate medical matter to take a cherry of a Just Eighteen Just Adult girl.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan argued, “It’s better the everbest sex therapist must do it, instead of an immensely inexperienced new learner.”
I wasn’t startled to find out that their blind followers and fans immediately grabbed it as the utmost important medical necessity.
Without turning back, Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm walked toward the water.
I watched as Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm walked further into the surf.
The further she walked, the more of her body was hidden as it submerged in the water.
I made my getaway into the house when I watched her dunk herself under the water.
Almost in a daze, I made my way back to Sāliħah Faisal and my room. Sāliħah Faisal was just waking up as I walked in.
She smiled at me as I came through the door.
“Hey stud,” she said suggestively, all the while smiling.
Momentarily undecided, I had to pull my thoughts together.
“Good morning sexy,” I said to Sāliħah Faisal as I crawled on to our bed.
Once I settled myself beside Sāliħah Faisal, Sāliħah Faisal pulled herself up on top of my lap and straddled me.
She ground herself against me and was pleased at the reaction she got. Little did she know, though, my reaction wasn’t necessarily due to her grinding against me.
I hadn’t quite recovered from seeing Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm.
I saw the glint in Sāliħah Faisal’s eyes and I knew what she wanted.
I made the gesture to slide my pajama bottoms down and Sāliħah Faisal raised herself up enough for me to do so.
My eyes closed and my breath inhaled as I felt my friend, Muħammad Naåīm’s wonderful extremely beautiful wife, wrap around me.
Opening my eyes, I looked at Sāliħah Faisal and put my index finger in front of my mouth in a “shhh” motion.
Whispering, Sāliħah Faisal asked, “why?”
“”We don’t need the kids to hear,” I whispered back.
“They’re asleep, they’ll never know,” Sāliħah Faisal whispered back with a bit more volume.
I furrowed my brow at her,
“No, they’re not. Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm is awake.”
Sāliħah Faisal’s eyes widened,
She loved how rigid and hard I was as she slammed herself down harder and harder upon it.
Sāliħah Faisal kept this motion up as if endlessly.
Until my eyes signaled to her that, I was about to cum.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam