Dr. Al Raħīmah Al Raħmān waited impatiently for the reply.
It never came.
Perhaps the person, who was playing the game, was afraid of her that she was after him/her to know his/her identity.
It was natural there couldn’t be any reply whatsoever.
Dr. Al Raħīmah Al Raħmān went to Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī, the lawyer, instead of directly approaching me.
However, she knew very well, Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī was an integral part of HVSI Law Internationals now.
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī called in the postal authorities.
The postal authorities went to work.
The letters continued to come, as if the sender took her action as a challenge and accepted it, instead of being afraid of.
It was impossible for the postal authorities, however, to get any proof.
The person mailing the letters evidently wore gloves.
There was never as much as the smudge of a fingerprint that could be developed in iodine vapor.
The envelopes were mailed in drop boxes in various parts of Ved Nagar.
Dr. Al Raħīmah Al Raħmān’s name and address had been set in type on a small but efficient printing machine, such as those frequently given children for Eīdul Fitr.
At the suggestion of Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī, Dr. Al Kausar Al Firdaus, Dr. Al Raħīm Al Raħmān’s divorced wife, was consulted.
She was living with me in Ved Nagar.
Dr. Al Kausar Al Firdaus remembered having given Muħammad Jamīl, the child, a very expensive computerized mini printing press for Eīdul Fitr for the year before.
Muħammad Jamīl had taken it with him when he went to visit his Abbū, Dr. Al Raħīm Al Raħmān.
It was still there.
Dr. Al Raħīm Al Raħmān had, it seemed, enjoyed the press even more than his son had.
This information gave Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī ground for jubilation, triumph.
“Now we’ll get the bastard,” she gloated.
Dr. Al Raħīmah Al Raħmān made an affidavit against her elder brother that he was torturing her mentally only because Dr. Al Raħīmah Al Raħmān loved me, a Hindu, her brother despised very much communally.
He used to call me Anant Muslimātchod Hindu scornfully.
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī handled it from there.
The police served a search warrant on Dr. Al Raħīm Al Raħmān.
The said printing press was located without difficulty.
From its condition, however, it was evident it hadn’t been used in some time.
Moreover, the experts gave it as their opinion that the envelopes had most certainly not been addressed on that press.
It didn’t have the font used in printing those letters and envelopes.
Dr. Al Raħīm Al Raħmān was on bail.
He was excessively polite to the police officers.
“I am not crazy enough to defame my own younger sister and thus consequently myself too. Can’t everyone see it’s a work of someone, who wants to defame and disgrace my Musalmān houseladies and me?”
His ex-wife, Dr. Al Kausar Al Firdaus, smiled cunningly.
“He is a pervert, as the so many Pseudo Musalmīn are ever. Allah never forgives the Pseudo Musalmīn for their ever disguised blasphemy. The bastards ever misuse the immensely sacred name of Islam for their ever perverted Pseudo Isālm. Allah punishes them by making them bisexual, gay and cuckold.”
Dr. Al Raħīm Al Raħmān commented ironically.
“Dr. Al Kausar Al Firdaus’s Allah is perhaps Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan. It’s her theory that any Musalmān that’s not true in his conviction to Islam is Pseudo Musalmān and Allah punishes such Pseudo Musalmīn by making them bisexual, transgender, gay and cuckold.”
“You don’t think it’s true?” Dr. Al Kausar Al Firdaus smiled sympathetically.
“Most of the Musalmīn don’t think it’s true.” Dr. Al Raħīm Al Raħmān said gravely.
“You mean most of the Pseudo Musalmīn don’t think it’s true?” Dr. Al Kausar Al Firdaus laughed patronizingly.
“I don’t think they are Pseudo Musalmīn.” Dr. Al Raħīm Al Raħmān said curtly, “It’s what Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and her lady bandits say.”
“I sympathize with you Pseudo Musalmīn, because they are you that are being punished by Allah in this way, by making them bisexual, gay and cuckold, I mean. Allah Ħāfiz, anyway.” Dr. Al Kausar Al Firdaus said sweetly.
“Allah Ħāfiz,” Dr. Al Raħīm Al Raħmān said curtly and slammed the receiver.*
No one knew how the name of Al Ħumayrah Al Tausīħ was mentioned in connection with it.
Neither any one knew who mentioned it.
However, when the police asked,
“Do you suspect your psychiatrist ex-fiancee, Dr. Al Ħumayrah Al Tausīħ might be behind it to defame and disgrace your Musalmān houseladies and you?”
Dr. Al Raħīm Al Raħmān said sophisticatedly,
“I don’t think so. The women are softies. Except Musalmīn alone most of the mankind even is softie, or it wants to display itself to be so ostensibly. She could not understand why it’s necessary for me to discipline my son, Muħammad Jamīl, the seven years old child. I’m surprised to the question. I don’t think Dr. Al Ħumayrah Al Tausīħ could fall to such an indignity. We had been engaged. I was quite fond of her.”
“Why the engagement had broken?” ACP Suraiyā Jamāl asked gravely, sympathetically, ostensibly at least.
Dr. Al Raħīm Al Raħmān wasn’t a damn fool enough to think ACP Suraiyā Jamāl was really sympathetic to him.
He knew she was one of the greatest fans of Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, her lady bandits and Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah.
Yet, she never approved of Triple Society.
Her concept of Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah wasn’t as violent as that of Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and her lady bandits, after all.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and her lady bandits scorned Pseudo Musalmān actually, while ACP Suraiyā Jamāl was sophisticated somewhat, ostensibly at least, even if not actually.
“The engagement had been broken over a rather minor matter.” Dr. Al Raħīm Al Raħmān smiled as if he was the victim of her injustice. However, he didn’t want to talk of it, “Dr. Ms. Al Ħumayrah Al Tausīħ was working altogether too hard. Naturally, she had been under great nervous tension. She had not been like herself for some weeks before the engagement was broken. If there is still anything I can do, ma’am ACP, I want it understood definitely that I’m willing to help at any time whatsoever.”
“I see,” ACP Suraiyā Jamāl could not help herself from being sarcastic, “How nice of you.”
“Nothing at all, ma’am. I would be only too glad to render any assistance whatsoever in tracking down the scoundrel(s) who are annoying my younger sister, psychiatrist Dr. Al Raħīmah Al Raħmān. The police are welcome to drop in at any time. As far as I’m concerned, the police never need any search warrant even. Despite all the adverse deliberate publicity against us so called Pseudo Musalmīn, by Her Excellency Kħātūn-e-Jannat Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan razī Allāhu tålā ånahā and her lady bandits, we Musalmīn are too law abiding citizens. My door would always be open to the authorities. Would you please convey my sincere sympathy to my younger psychiatrist sister, Dr. Al Raħīmah Al Raħmān? I have tried to call her myself a dozen times, but she had hung up as soon as she recognized my voice.”
It wasn’t until Dr. Al Kausar Al Firdaus called her that Dr. Al Raħīmah Al Raħmān smiled cunningly.
“Was it the printing press?” Dr. Al Kausar Al Firdaus asked Dr. Al Raħīmah Al Raħmān.
“No,” Dr. Al Raħīmah Al Raħmān said, “The press was there all right but it hadn’t been used for some time.”
“That’s just like the bastard,” Dr. Al Kausar Al Firdaus said, “I know exactly how his ever communal dirty shrewd Pseudo Musalmān mind works. He saw Muħammad Jamīl’s press. He then went out and got one similar to it, but with different fonts. Dr. Al Raħīm Al Raħmān probably printed about two hundred envelopes in advance, then he took the press out on his yacht and dropped it overboard. He knew you’d suspect him; that you’d find out about Muħammad Jamīl’s press and get a search warrant―that’s his way of showing you how diabolically clever he is despite the adverse reputation of general Pseudo Musalmīn.”
She looked at Dr. Al Ħumayrah Al Tausīħ,
“I’m surprised you went with him as long as you did without recognizing the sort of man he is beneath his mask.”
Dr. Al Ħumayrah Al Tausīħ resented Dr. Al Kausar Al Firdaus’s tone,
“At least I found out in time to avoid marrying him.
Dr. Al Kausar Al Firdaus laughed.
“You were smarter than I was.” She admitted, “I was communal somewhat perhaps. I deliberately scorned marrying any non-Muslim those days. Allah punished me for it. Now, I believe Dr. Ali Sina and his co-authors are correct. Never marry any Muslim bastard. So many other Hindus are there, even if particularly Durgesh is not available to some unlucky Muslimah.”
Dr. Al Ħumayrah Al Tausīħ too laughed bitterly.
“Nevertheless, you’ll remember I dropped you a note telling you not to be fooled.”
Dr. Al Ħumayrah Al Tausīħ said somewhat ruefully, repentantly.
“I thought it was the result of your jealousy that I succeeded where you failed. Sorry.”
“Allah, Heavens, I’m happily in Live In Relationship with Durgesh now. I was trying to save you from what I’d gone through with him. If I could only get the sole custody of Muħammad Jamīl, my son, I wouldn’t want anything more.”*
Åāliyah Fārūq had disabused me of that notion.
“You wouldn’t be causing a problem,” she’d said, “you’d be solving one. I love Åbdul Waħīd to pieces, but he’s just not getting it done in the bedroom. We need someone to help out. Besides, I’ve always been curious about Hindu men.”
“I’m not about to start messing with cheating Musalmān wives, Åāliyah Fārūq,” I had explained.
Åāliyah Fārūq had laughed.
“Cheating? Who said anything about cheating? Åbdul Waħīd brought it up in the first place, and he sure as hell plans on watching you fuck me.”
“I see. So you’re swingers?” I asked.
“No, honey, we’re not swingers. We want to try out cuckolding,” Åāliyah Fārūq replied.
She’d gone on to explain that Åbdul Waħīd didn’t want to fuck someone else’s wife, he wanted a guy to fuck Åāliyah Fārūq while he watched.
So later than night, I had fucked the lovely young Musalmān blonde to the point of exhaustion while Åbdul Waħīd had watched and jerked off.
When I left, Åbdul Waħīd had thanked me profusely and made arrangements for another encounter over the next weekend.
I had quickly found that the notion of fucking an attractive, young, married Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān woman appealed to his libido.
It wasn’t just fucking hot Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Choot I liked, it was fucking hot white married Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Choot.
In front of the perverted/cuckold Musalmān husband.
It was like Viagra.
The role of handsome hung Hindu bull fit me like a glove, and I soon discovered that fulfilling Åāliyah Fārūq and Åbdul Waħīd’s expectations of deep, dark taboo jungle love was as entertaining to me as it was arousing to Åbdul Waħīd.
The actual problem was that the Pseudo Musalmīn themselves loved to be cuckolded to their ever dominating Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān wives and me/their Hindu lover/Live In Relationship partner.
They needed Stavans/Meditation with Constant Positive Thinking actually to get their confidence and manhood back.
It wasn’t possible due to several communal/religious/social reasons.
The main reason, none wanted to be true to accept, was Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan.
She wanted them Cuckold to compel them to establish Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s dream Ummat, Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah.
“She hates Pseudo Musalmīn even more than even Mughal-e-Åāzam, Shahanshah Jalāluddīn Muħammad Akbar did. He forced Pseudo Musalmīn to marry their Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān daughters/sisters to marry Hindus. Yet, even he didn’t cuckold them. Whereas Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is running Seven Movements including Cuckold Your Musalmān husband Movement.” I said curtly.
“Well,” Åbdul Waħīd smiled feigning gravity, “we don’t think there’s anything wrong in it.”
I gazed at him contemptuously.
There wasn’t any use of arguing with Åbdul Waħīd.
He had already fallen beneath it.
Åāliyah Fārūq was lying on her back with her legs spread and My Hindu cum load was leaking from her gaping Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Choot when Åbdul Waħīd had first asked me if I thought I could handle another white Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān wife.
“We have some close friends, Lubnā Salīm and Muħammad Ashfāq, who live in the building,” Åbdul Waħīd said. “Åāliyah Fārūq’s been telling Lubnā Salīm about what an amazing Hindu lover you are, and Lubnā Salīm told Åāliyah Fārūq she was interested.”
“I see,” I smiled meaningfully.
“Lubnā Salīm’s really cute. She’s a tiny little redhead. You’d love fucking her,” Åāliyah Fārūq chimed in, playing with my Uncut Hindu Lund, entirely unashamed of herself. “Why don’t we all have a dinner and we can explain how things work. I love being your hot white Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān wife, but I’m feeling guilty keeping that magnificent Uncut Hindu Lund all to myself.”
“Besides,” Åbdul Waħīd joined in, “Åāliyah Fārūq and I really get turned on by the idea of turning Lubnā Salīm and Muħammad Ashfāq out as an Uncut Hindu Lund cuckold couple. It feels like we’re corrupting them.”
I laughed and agreed to the meeting.
However, I suspected Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was behind it somewhere, somehow.
Åāliyah Fārūq and Åbdul Waħīd were actually members of her Cuckold Your Musalmān husband Movement.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was really establishing seriously her Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah.
She wasn’t kidding anyone in the matter at all.
Åāliyah Fārūq too hadn’t been kidding when she had described Lubnā Salīm as “tiny.”
I towered over the 4 foot 11 inch Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān redhead, who giggled when I took her small hand in my hand to shake it.
“If everything else about you is this big, I’m in trouble,” the Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān redhead chirped.
I liked her immediately.
She’d worn her red hair in a pixy cut.
Coupled with her pouty red lips, alabaster skin and slightly upturned nose, the overall effect made her look like a woodland sprite.
Her easy laughter and constant smile did nothing to dispel the image.
Over drinks, I learned that Lubnā Salīm had been a gymnast and ballet dancer but had switched to elementary education when she’d torn her ACL as a college freshman.
“Besides,” she said with a laugh, “there isn’t a ballet company in the country that wants a sub-five feet redhead in the corps de ballet. All for the best anyway. I love teaching kids.”
Her husband Muħammad Ashfāq was a graphics designer and artist, who’d converted one of the bedrooms in their unit into a painting studio.
He was slender and dark haired, which curled over his collar, looking every bit the moody, struggling artist.
When I had suggested that it must be difficult to make a living as a painter, Lubnā Salīm had laughed.
“Don’t let the ‘suffering artist’ look fool you. Muħammad Ashfāq does quite nicely with graphics design and his parents left him very well off,” she said. “We live comfortably on Muħammad Ashfāq’s graphics income and my salary as a teacher. The painting’s his avocation.”
The dinner went extremely well.
Åāliyah Fārūq had seated Lubnā Salīm and me next to each other, with Muħammad Ashfāq across the table.
Wine flowed freely and Muħammad Ashfāq and I spent most of the dinner in an intense discussion about stock market forecasting, investment strategies, hedge funds, and metals futures.
Lubnā Salīm spent most of the dinner running her left hand first up and down my right thigh and then up and down my Hindu crotch.
At the end of the evening, I stood.
“Thanks for a wonderful dinner, Åāliyah Fārūq,” I said, kissing her lightly on the cheek.
I shook Åbdul Waħīd’s hand and nodded to Lubnā Salīm and Muħammad Ashfāq. “Nice to meet you both.”
As soon as I was out the door, Lubnā Salīm hurried to join me, slipping her arm through mine.
“Why don’t you walk me home,” she suggested, seductively, meaningfully.
I smiled and looked at her husband, Muħammad Ashfāq.
Muħammad Ashfāq laughed.
“You don’t need my permission, Durgesh. She is entirely capable to take her own decisions. Sorry to say it, but actually you Hindus are more possessive of your wives than we Musalmīn are. Islam is liberal enough to permit divorce if the spouses have too many differences to the extent they can’t live with each other any more.”
“Islam concentrates on liberty more, Hinduism concentrates on family more. If you want a strong family, you have to sacrifice your liberty for it. If you want a greater liberty, you have to sacrifice your family for it. It depends on what you need more, your family or your liberty.”
Lubnā Salīm laughed.
“Hey, don’t preach your Hinduism to my ardent Musalmān husband, you Hindu scoundrel. Let him remain Musalmān, please!”
Muħammad Ashfāq laughed.
“I love my Īmān even more than my life, Lubnā Salīm. Don’t worry. The entire history of us Musalmān mankind stands to evidence that we Musalmīn always sacrificed everything, including our Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān wives, and our families too, to save our Īmān. It’s better to lose our Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān wife and family even than to lose our Īmān itself. We Musalmīn always let Hindus fuck our Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān wives even, instead of letting Hindus fuck our Īmān itself.”
Lubnā Salīm looked at her proud arrogant Musalmān husband, Muħammad Ashfāq, proudly.
“I’m proud of you, Muħammad Ashfāq.”
“Thank you, Lubnā Salīm, my dear beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān wife.”
I could not believe what I was listening to.
But that’s what I was listening to from entire Musalmīn ever since my childhood.
They had their own kind of morals throughout their own history and they loved their morals more than their own life even.
I had to admit Hindus were not so dedicated to their morals.
The Hindus were better in sex, but the Musalmīn were better in morals.
I once more realized it.
Surprisingly, I respected Musalmīn more for it, than I respected Hindus even.
Saiyadah Fatimah PhD, my ardent Musalmān wife and my infinite Musalmān women even, never agreed with me.
Well, they too had their own morals.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Midterm 2012 Volume 4
Kħātūn-e-Jannat Volume 3
Ved Nagar Volume 2
I smiled at Al Hilāl Al Tayyab gravely.
“It’s not as simple as that, my twenty eight years old young Musalmān beloved. I am sixty four―”
She smiled sarcastically.
“You are fucking me, Durgesh. Can’t you be true even to your girlfriend for ten long years? No bloody sixty four can fuck me as wildly as you are. The most I can believe you to be, is thirty four, and it’s ultimate.”
I ignored the infinite times argued argument.
It was of no use ever.
“The point I was making, was that a condition by which a party is prevented from marrying is considered against public policy and void. Nevertheless that’s subject to certain qualifications. Particularly in the case of the trusts of the type that are known as the Spendthrift Trusts. The trust that was created under your Abbū’s will is exactly of one of the exact nature.
“Moreover, you may yourself note that there isn’t exactly any restrictions upon marriage itself. As a matter of fact, your Buā, Al Jalāl Al Tayyab, has been given a wide discretion in the matter. Your Abbū had immense faith on his youngest sister, Al Jalāl Al Tayyab.”
“Nādirshāh Durrānī.” Al Hilāl Al Tayyab chuckled coldly.
“She has a wrong name. Al Jalāl Al Tayyab Buā must have been named Nādirshāh Durrānī.”
“Nonsense, Al Hilāl Al Tayyab,” I protested, “Al Jalāl Al Tayyab loves you even more than herself. You are the only heir to her too, and the only thing Al Jalāl Al Tayyab wants from you is, behave yourself, act your age, be responsible.”
“I am not interested in her money.” Al Hilāl Al Tayyab said furiously, “My Abbū has himself left enough for me.”
“You are getting Al Jalāl Al Tayyab wrong.”
“Stop protecting her. She doesn’t need anyone’s protection anymore. You have already trained her to protect herself from everyone.”
She was really impossible.
Her Abbū, Al Tayyab Al Muħammad, was right.
Her Buā, Al Jalāl Al Tayyab was equally right too.
Al Hilāl Al Tayyab needed constant protection from me.
Only I could control her optimum.
My ultimate intimacy with her, for ten long years even, had increased her arrogance instead of making her how to behave sophisticated.
The essential problem was, Al Hilāl Al Tayyab refused to learn anything new she did not know already.
“There are so many persons that say that some lawyers tell people what they can do and what they can’t, but you are always different from those damn fools. You invariably fix things ever so a person can do what s/he wants to do.”
My Uncut Hindu Prick was moving between her extremely beautiful ardent Musalmān labial lips more vigorously.
Her twenty eight years old young Musalmān Cunt was swallowing my sixty four years old Uncut Hindu Prick voraciously.
It was my constant experience that comparatively to my other women, my Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān women were more ravenous to fuck me.
It did not, of course, necessarily mean that the Musalmān womankind was more ravenous than the rest of the entire womankind.
In my original Param Purush body that was synchronized now within my own Antim Ācharañ Nāyak body, of course, I was fucking the entire womankind nonstop in Param Vyom, the Absolute Space.
Yet, it was true that ravenous women were there in every society, not only in Ummat-e-Muslimah.
There were numerous reasons for a woman to be ravenous sexually.
Most of the human societies almost always fought with Hindu Society that Hindus were the most sex oriented men.
Ved/Hinduism expressly, specifically, especially, preaches its men to be utmost sex oriented.
If some of the human societies didn’t fight with Hindu Society ever on this point, they almost ever hated Hindus for it, if not expressly, clandestinely at least.
Yet, even such ever biased anti Hindu societies too can’t deny ever, truthfully, that it was only the Hindu Society that successfully faced always every movement that was against humanity and humankind.
The entire history of entire humankind stands to its evidence whether someone acknowledges it or not.
When Pseudo Isālm was massacring the entire non Musalmīn it was Ved/Hinduism that stopped its ever imperialist ever utmost harmful-to-humankind aggression in India.
Islam had already surrendered to Pseudo Isālm at Karbala to Yazīd malåūn and his Pseudo Musalmīn bandits.
The ever vain boasting Persians surrendered to it, by surrendering their entire homeland herself, to Pseudo Musalmīn of Yazīd malåūn and his Pseudo Musalmīn bandits.
It was India only that’s still practicing True Islam anywhere.
Even Turkey is second to India in this matter.
It was one of the ever greatest in Musalmīn, Mughal-e-Åāzam, Shahanshāh, Samrāŧ Jalāluddīn Muħammad Akbar, that revived True Islam in India, calling it Dīn-e-Ilāhī, separating it from Pseudo Isālm expressly.
And then it started fighting with Pseudo Isālm.*
It was a smile of wisdom garnered from bitter experiences of my past sixty four years, of knowledge amassed, accumulated, from the confidences of thousands of women and men.
If Al Hilāl Al Tayyab could only have even infinitesimal confidence in her aunt, her Buā, Al Jalāl Al Tayyab, of what her own Abbū had on his youngest shrewdest sister, she could easily understand Al Jalāl Al Tayyab loved her not anything less than her brother.
But there was her ever closest friend, Al Shams Al Jisārat.
She thought her aunt Al Jalāl Al Tayyab was after her money.
“That’s somewhat true,” I said, “but not entirely. One can almost always get a way out of any situation. If there’s a will, there’s a way.”
“Well,” Al Hilāl Al Tayyab told me somewhat bitterly, “there’s a will in this case, my dear ever utmost experienced Hindu husband of sixty four years prudence. I want the way.”
Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb was never in the good book of Al Jalāl Al Tayyab.
“Al Jalāl Al Tayyab never liked Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb.” I said.
“Are you telling me?” Al Hilāl Al Tayyab asked me inordinately.
“Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb knows of this provision in the will?”
Al Hilāl Al Tayyab watched me with intense scrutinizing eyes.
“I think now Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb knows perhaps. He didn’t until now. Nevertheless, it’s immaterial. It’s neither here nor there. Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb is himself a millionaire. He does not need my money.”
“I see. I think actually you don’t want to marry Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb. You actually want to cuckold him to please my Practical Chief Wife, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan. Isn’t it?”*
Al Hilāl Al Tayyab smiled cunningly.
“What if I really want to do it?”
“Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is anti-Muslim now, Al Hilāl Al Tayyab.”
“You are quite mistaken, my dear ever utmost experienced Hindu husband of sixty four years prudence. Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is herself Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånahā reincarnated. And she has proven it as many times as she razī Allāhu tålā ånahā has been challenged to prove it.”
“In front of ever immense superstitious Pseudo Musalmīn only.” I said bitterly, “I never interrupted her in her practical political strategies whenever they produced creative results.”
“And you think Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, your De facto Chief Wife now, isn’t actually Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånahā, reincarnated?” Al Hilāl Al Tayyab asked me ironically, “Only because you are not a Muslim, you are a Hindu instead. You haven’t any faith in Islam whatsoever.”
I kept fucking Al Hilāl Al Tayyab vehemently, patiently.
“Don’t try to make it a religious communal issue, Al Hilāl Al Tayyab.”
“You have no right to call our religious faith communal, Durgesh.” Al Hilāl Al Tayyab said furiously bitterly, “It’s not your faith. It’s not your religion. It’s up to us Musalmīn to define what our religion is and what’s not.”
Al Hilāl Al Tayyab was adamant not to argue rationally without any bias and prejudices.
It was Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s immensely thoroughly thought out deliberate strategy.
She worked on ever superstitious Pseudo Musalmīn and immensely biased, immensely selfish, extremely beautiful, Musalmān houseladies that were interested either in abnormal wild sex with me or in my ever infinite money.
Al Hilāl Al Tayyab wanted to cuckold Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb.
She wasn’t interested in truth at all.
Let the truth be whatsoever damn it.
She wanted to cuckold Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb because Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan wanted it.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan had promised to let her inheritance released to Al Hilāl Al Tayyab from Al Jalāl Al Tayyab.
Moreover, Al Hilāl Al Tayyab would have an immensely capable friend, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, to take care of her, besides me too.
Al Hilāl Al Tayyab looked at me,
“Don’t make any mistake about it,” her voice was vibrant with emotion, “I’m going to marry Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb. It’s final. You have got to find some way so that I can do it. I leave that end of it up to you.”
I kept fucking Al Hilāl Al Tayyab scrutinizing her carefully.
“Well, you are adamant to cuckold Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb, I think.”
“I am,” she said firmly.
“Okay. Let me look up the concerned court records before planning the optimum strategy. Let’s talk about it further, tomorrow morning.”
Al Hilāl Al Tayyab pulled her glorious Panjvaqtah Namāzī nude Musalmān bottom until my Uncut Hindu Prick was out of her Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt only its head remaining inside. Then she thrust it back into my nude male Hindu lap with her entire feminine lust.
It vanished into her Musalmān Cunt absolutely.
“Tomorrow morning is too late.” She shook her head, “The most I can afford is, this afternoon.”
I sighed disguising my exasperation.
“Okay. Give me time to look up the concerned court records in the meantime. Let’s talk further about it at four o’clock.”
“Okay.” She smiled at me ultimately.*
I fucked Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī engrossed in thoughtful appraisal.
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī understood my mood absolutely now.
She knew I never wanted to be disturbed when I was thinking.
Ultimately, I jabbed a button on the side of my desk.
A young woman of twenty eight popped her beautiful head through the doorway leading from a law library, watched me fucking Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī gravely, smiled impishly, and entered the room.
“Al Vaqār,” I said, “go up to the court house and find the papers in the Al Tayyab Estate. An Al Hilāl Al Tayyab was given property amounting to more than a hundred million dollars in trust. The name of the trustee is Al Jalāl Al Tayyab. Check the decree of distribution, and also the will. Make copies of the trust provisions, then get back here as soon as you can.”
The gorgeous young Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Beauty blinked her eyes swiftly, twice.
“Al Tayyab?” she asked.
“Yes,” I smiled at her, “Al Tayyab Al Muħammad.”
“And Al Jalāl Al Tayyab?”
“And Al Jalāl Al Tayyab.” I confirmed.
“Okay.” Al Vaqār Al Åbbās smiled at me seductively, turned, crossed the stateroom with confident steps, proudly aware of my ever appreciative Hindu male gaze on her young plump luscious Musalmān buttocks, and plunged into the outer office at my yacht.
I smiled at Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī.
She smiled at me too.
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī was all alert now.
She knew very well now when to keep quiet and when to speak.
Her manner radiated assurance and efficiency.
“Let’s check our impressions about Al Hilāl Al Tayyab today.” I said.
“She looked me trapped or sulky today.”
“Be specific. What was she? Trapped or sulky?”
“Does it make a lot of difference?” Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī smiled impishly somewhat, squeezing her vaginal muscles around my entire Uncut Hindu Prick.
“Sure,” I said, “you had a chance to see her when Al Hilāl Al Tayyab wasn’t posing. You are a woman too. She doesn’t need to impress you. Almost every woman that’s beautiful, poses at least somewhat in masculine presence either knowingly or unknowingly.”
“I think you can’t blame us womankind for it.” Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī smiled.
“I never do.”
“Did she tell you the truth?”
“None of them tell us the truth the first time usually,” I said, “the womankind don’t especially more than the mankind. That’s why I decided to take your opinion too. Did she look trapped, or did she look sulky?”
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī spoke thoughtfully, weighing her words carefully.
“I never saw her so trapped and sulky before. She was both today. I think she got caught in some kind of trap and had turned sulky.”
I smiled and pushed my Uncut Hindu Prick into her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt entirely with immense sexual lust for her.
“Are you sure Al Hilāl Al Tayyab wasn’t in panic?”
“What do you mean?” Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī was suddenly all alert.
It was something new for her that a girl that appeared sulky ostensibly, might be actually in panic instead.
She had to learn from Durgesh infinitely even now.
Durgesh is perhaps the ever best psychologist now.
It’s immensely necessary to learn the human psychology as much as one can for not one’s progress only, but his/her survival too.
Durgesh is ever successful immensely in almost every field he is interested ever, because he never stops learning about human psychology.
“Nothing,” I smiled once more, “lots of people try to put a poker face when they are in a panic. It’s human nature. We never like to exhibit our weaknesses on others if we can manage it. Panic is a weakness. If the others know we are in a panic, even somewhat, they may take advantage of us at that time, our guards being down.”
“Wallāh, you are right. I never thought about it, Durgesh darling.” Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī kissed me on my lips cheerfully and squeezed her vaginal muscles appreciatively around my Uncut Hindu Penis.
“It’s elementary, my dear Watson.” I winked at her.
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī laughed appreciating me.
“When a person in panic tries to put on a poker face, nine times out of ten s/he looks sulky.”
“That’s right. Al Hilāl Al Tayyab is a self-willed little devil who usually always gets her own way due to her parents’ unbalanced parental love for her. Al Tayyab Al Muħammad was a business tycoon. He thought money was everything. His parents taught him this wrong lesson. Money is very important but not everything even then.”
“Al Tayyab Al Muħammad never paid proper attention to his offspring. He thought he is giving immense money to his daughters and that’s all his duty was to them.”
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī was listening to me with absolute attention.
“It made him careless to his daughter that she was developing an ungovernable temper. He realized it, but too late to improve it. I think Al Hilāl Al Tayyab is caught in some sort of a trap. She is trying to get out of it.”
“A hell-cat?” Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī smiled.
Suddenly my receptionist there, Al Jamīlah Al Wahāb, pushed open the door.
“Yes, Al Jamīlah,” I addressed her.
“There’s a man in the outer office.”
“Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb.”
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī looked at me.
“I see,” I murmured.
“He wants information about Miss Al Hilāl Al Tayyab.”
“Al Hilāl Al Tayyab?”
“Who has just been here.”
“You told him she has just been here?”
“What does he say?”
“He says that he wants to see you.” Al Jamīlah Al Wahāb smiled, “I asked him about his nature of business with you. He said it’s about a client of yours. I informed him that he would have to give me the name of the client. And tell me something of the nature of the business. He said that it was about Miss Al Hilāl Al Tayyab and he is very anxious to see you about her.”
“I see. What did you tell him?”
“I told him that I wasn’t familiar with the names of your clients, he would have to be more specific concerning his business. He is frightfully excited.”
“About what, the girl or his business?”
“I don’t know that. All I know is that he is excited and nervous.”
I reached a decision.
There was nothing wrong in meeting with the man they were trying to cuckold.
Why not warn him?
Let me see his response to the information.
Moreover, he could tell me something Al Hilāl Al Tayyab was hiding from me.
“Okay,” I said, “send him in,”
Al Jamīlah Al Wahāb nodded and turned, holding the door open.
“You may come in,” she said.
There was a rustle of motion.
A man came into the room.
He radiated restlessness.
He was a man radiating femininity, instead of masculinity.
He needed Stavans to change his mental blue print.
But it was not easy for him.
The communals had attached Stavans, meditation, with Hinduism.
Instead of advising meditation, Stavans, to him, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and Al Hilāl Al Tayyab were planning to cuckold him.
Eīshān Eīshān Shammā shamīshān!
Yet, I knew it was useless to argue with Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and Al Hilāl Al Tayyab on it.
They were irrationally adamant.
Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb walked with nervous jerky steps.
He was either in late twenties or earlier thirties.
“Good day, counselor.” He smiled with vibrant manners despite his appearance.
“Good day. Please, sit down.” I offered him a chair.
Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb hesitated, then sat down on the edge of one of the straight backed chairs.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb?” I asked him cordially.
“I want to find out whether Al Hilāl Al Tayyab called on you today.”
My face was patiently appraising.
“I’m sorry to tell you that I can’t divulge to you anything that my clients tell me in confidence. You should understand it’s a law office. Even a competent court can’t ask me who came to me to consult me legally and who didn’t. It’s not an information bureau, Mr. Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb.”
I said it politely, not harshly.
Why kill a person who is already being killed?
If I can’t save him from Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and Al Hilāl Al Tayyab, at least I could be polite to him.
Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb jumped nervously to his feet, made some swift strides to the window, stood against the light for a moment, then whirled to stare at me.
His eyes were dark and smoldering.
He seemed to be fighting some overpowering emotion.
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Al Nādirah Al Åbbās rushed to me, put her beautiful young arms around my neck and kissed me full on my lips.
I hugged her wildly.
Al Nādirah Al Åbbās felt me hardened.
She grinned mischievously and grabbed my Uncut Hindu Penis.
I winked at her.
Al Nādirah Al Åbbās laughed pleasantly melodically yet gracefully.
We undressed each other.
Next moment, I wasn’t fucking Al Nādirah Al Åbbās, instead, Al Nādirah Al Åbbās was fucking me wildly.
She had straddled me on my Uncut Hindu Penis.
Her glorious Musalmān buttocks were in wild up and down motions.
My ever erect Uncut Hindu Cock was penetrating Al Nādirah Al Åbbās’s young Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt.
We fucked violently.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, Hindu Piyā.” Al Nādirah Al Åbbās said fucking me violently, “But Abbū is all worked up. Apparently, there’s been a shooting in the lower flat. Abbū is afraid officers will be swarming all over the place to interfere with what he wants to see you about. He says it’s dreadfully important and I’m commissioned to get a habeas corpus, mandamus, or whatever you lawyers call it, to see there at once. Abbū promises to pay you anything you want if you’ll come immediately.”
I smiled, playing with her young glorious Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān buttocks.
My Uncut Hindu Prick was visiting her young, twenty eight years old ravenous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt ravenously itself.
She was kissing me wildly.
Al Nādirah Al Åbbās was wilder and more ravenous in sex than Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd was even, to the extent that Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd couldn’t find anyway except to complain to Al Åbbās Al Saåīd that his daughter was disturbing her in her honeymoon with me.
“Can you tell me exactly what’s the nature of your Abbū’s business with me?” I asked smiling.
“Frankly I can’t, Hindu Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt. My Abbū is one of those rugged Årab individualists. I was to act intermediary.”
“He understands who is the perfect intermediary between him and me.” I winked at her.
Al Nādirah Al Åbbās also winked at me,
“Doesn’t he? He understands very well how to make you Hindus work for us Musalmīn. You all the Hindus are crazy to fuck Musalmān Beauties. Well, Abbū provides you Hindus Musalmān Beauties as much as you want and keep you Hindus working for him nonstop with extraordinary loyalty to him.”
“And you think it’s only your Abbū’s policy?” I laughed, “Everyone successful Musalmān ruler, king, Bādshāh, Sultān, Nawāb, whatsoever his title was, successfully ruled Hindu dominant areas, using the same policy, in pre 1857 days.”
“Yes, I know.” Al Nādirah Al Åbbās smiled triumphantly, “Mughal-e-Åāzam, Shahanshāh Jalāluddīn Muħammad Akbar, learned this policy from Shérshāh Sūrī. He studied prudently why Shérshāh Sūrī was so successful in making Humāyūn run away from India to Iran. He found it and implemented in his realm. Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan isn’t conceiving Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah out of a whole cloth ever first. She had studied prudently the tremendous miraculous success of the Mughal Empire in India. She found it was the Ashvinātam Hindu Muslim Unity. Aurangzeb tried to destroy it and destroyed the entire Mughal Empire consequently imprudently. East India Company took full advantage of it. It filled the Hindu households with British Beauties instead and managed to get the loyalty of the Hindu majority for East India Company instead of the then imprudent Musalmān rulers, gradually.”*
I woke the next morning, felt the warm soft presence next to me, and smiled.
It was when I rolled over that I got the surprise.
Instead of being it the black curly hair, I was getting used to; I saw a head of straight red hair.
There was only one redhead in the house, Jamīlah Aurangzeb’s daughter, Bābarah Åālamgīr.
‘What the hell was Bābarah Åālamgīr doing here?
Was I blind last night?
Did I have sex with Bābarah Åālamgīr?’
All ran through my mind as a lump formed in my stomach.
I cautiously raised the sheet to peer underneath and found that as I had suspected, Bābarah Åālamgīr was in my bed, completely naked.
Nothing new about that however.
The Panjvaqtah Namāzī extremely beautiful Musalmān girl wore clothes less often than she ran without, to seduce me of course.
I understood that.
I wasn’t born yesterday.
I dropped the sheet, layback for a minute to try to clear the sleep out of my head, remembered what happened and why Bābarah Åālamgīr was there.
I lay there quietly for a good 10 minutes before I gave up.
The last I remembered was making love to Nasīm Muåāwiyah/Al Ħamd Al Åbbās for what seemed like forever and falling asleep in her arms.
I had absolutely no recollection of Bābarah Åālamgīr being involved and I knew I had not been blind.
The evening’s memories were too clear for that.
So why was Bābarah Åālamgīr there?
I had two options.
I could slip out of bed, find Nasīm Muåāwiyah/Al Ħamd Al Åbbās and ask her.
In that case, I might run into Zubaydah Bābar or Nishāt Nazli and then might have to explain why Jamīlah Aurangzeb’s daughter, Bābarah Åālamgīr, was naked in my bed.
On the other hand, I could wake Bābarah Åālamgīr and ask her.
The second option gave me more control of the situation and less potential for embarrassment.
Therefore, it was a no-brainer.
I turned onto my side facing her and gently shook her awake.
“Oh, hi Durgesh, good morning. How long have you been awake?” She asked me as she woke.
“Just a few minutes. I lay here trying to figure out why you’re in my bed.”
Bābarah Åālamgīr giggled,
“Did I give you a start?”
“Yeah, a little. You know I never drink and I know when I fell asleep Nasīm Muåāwiyah/Al Ħamd Al Åbbās was here. So when and how did you get here?”
“Nasīm Muåāwiyah/Al Ħamd Al Åbbās woke me around 5:30 this morning. I don’t know what you did to her last night but she was all happy and bubbly. It was disgusting so early in the morning. All she wanted to talk about was planning to go get our stuff and bring it here. I finally told her that whatever she decided was fine as long as she let me go back to sleep. She had me out in the living room and I tried to lie on the couch but it was cold. Therefore, I crawled in with you to keep warm. She left around 7:30 to go rent a truck or something.”
“A truck? How much stuff do the two of you have?” I asked suddenly picturing my house jammed with all kinds of junk.
Bābarah Åālamgīr giggled again.
“Don’t worry, not that much. She just figured that if we made one trip we wouldn’t be able to get it in my car so we’re going to get one of those little trucks. It’s just our clothes and stereo and stuff.”
“Clothes? You mean the two of you actually wear clothes. I didn’t even know you owned any?” I teased her.
Nude Bābarah Åālamgīr pulled nude me into a hug as she giggled again,
“Oh Durgesh, Durgesh darling! Méré Hindu Piyā! Hindu Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt! Hum Musalmān ħasīnāon ké Hindu Kħasam! Hindu husband of us Musalmān Beauties! Of course, we have clothes; we’re Panjvaqtah Namāzī extremely beautiful Musalmān girls. Aren’t we?”
I sighed as I felt her great Musalmān tits push into my chest.
Bābarah Åālamgīr had thrown her Musalmān leg up over mine so I was certain I could feel her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Choot pressing against my thigh.
Her Musalmān leg was only inches from my Uncut Hindu Lund that had gotten hard as a rock.
As soon as I realized Jamīlah Aurangzeb’s naked daughter was in bed with me and had not receded yet, I looked at the clock.
It was 9:30 already.
“I’m going to get up and get a shower.” I announced as a means of extricating myself from the situation.
“Oh good. I’ll join you again. That was fun yesterday.” Bābarah Åālamgīr chirped.
I groaned inwardly.
I was trying to get away from the naked Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān nymph and she wanted to share my shower.
I thought about declining but did not want to seem to push her away.
Besides, nothing really had happened yesterday.
I just would have to behave myself and make sure she did also.
We headed to the bathroom together.
I started the shower and adjusted the water temperature.
Then when I turned around, I was greeted by the sight of Jamīlah Aurangzeb’s daughter, Bābarah Åālamgīr, sitting on the toilet and the unmistakable sound of urine hitting the water.
She had just sat down and gone without any thought to my being there and I had had to go also but was going to ask her for a little privacy before going.
Apparently, she didn’t feel privacy was important.
As I watched, she wiped herself and stood up, took me by my hand and stepped into the shower pulling me in with her.
“Bābarah Åālamgīr, I have to pee too.” I protested.
“So go ahead but you are all wet now. Therefore, you might as well go in here. It all goes to the same drain anyway.” Bābarah Åālamgīr smiled innocently.
Then she got that devilish look in her eye.
“Can I aim it for you?”
“No, you can’t aim it for me. I’m not used to having people watch me use the toilet. I’ve been going by myself for over 62 years, I think I can manage.” I told her.
Bābarah Åālamgīr looked down, mischievously, at the floor, and her lower lip stuck out in a pout.
I realized that I had been a little harsher on her than I should have been and probably hurt her feelings.
“I’m sorry honey; you just caught me by surprise.”
Then I sighed,
“Ok you can aim it for me.”
I saw a smile cross her awfully stunning immensely pretty, immensely smart, Panjvaqtah Namāzī Pakistani Musalmān face and I closed my eyes trying to pretend she wasn’t there.
I felt Bābarah Åālamgīr grasp my Hindu manhood and I relaxed to release a stream of urine.
“Oh wow that’s neat.”
I could feel Bābarah Åālamgīr directing it this way and that and smiled to myself.
Then I felt a shift in her position and opened my eyes just as she started to giggle.
“Feels weird.” Bābarah Åālamgīr said as I looked down and saw that she was directing my stream into her open mouth, giggling the whole time.
I was struck dumb, not knowing what to say or do.
I was pissing into Jamīlah Aurangzeb’s daughter, Bābarah Åālamgīr’s open Musalmān mouth and she was enjoying drinking it.
“Who’s the pervert here?” ran through my mind as my stream subsided and she released me.
She leaned over and kissed me.
“Thanks Durgesh. That was fun. I never did that before.”
Then with that pronouncement, Bābarah Åālamgīr picked up the soap, began to lather her hands up and then rub them on my body.
Suddenly all other thoughts were gone from my head as Jamīlah Aurangzeb’s daughter, Bābarah Åālamgīr, began to run her hands over my naked skin.
She started on my front at my shoulders and washed chest, my sides and me downwards and then to my stomach.
Instead of continuing down to my Uncut Hindu Cock as she had the previous day she urged me to turn around and she did my back moving down and massaging the soap into my ass cheeks then she reached around and began to wash my privates.
Just as Bābarah Åālamgīr had the day before she stroked me while she did it and fondled my balls.
The difference is this time she didn’t seem to want to stop.
Bābarah Åālamgīr was stroking me intently with a firm grip on my Uncut Hindu Cock and I knew that if she didn’t stop soon I was going to blow my load.
“I think it’s clean enough.” I offered even though part of me, a large part, screamed to let her continue.
Bābarah Åālamgīr just released me, moved down and soaped up my legs then rinsed me off.
“My turn.” she announced as she turned around so I could do her back.
I picked up the soap and lathered up.
Then I started on her shoulders and worked my way down her back.
I spent a lot of time washing her extremely beautiful Musalmān ass off, rubbing it and massaging it and she enjoyed the attention as she stuck it out for me.
The more I rubbed the more she stuck it out. Then reluctantly I proceeded down her Musalmān legs and washed her Musalmān legs and feet before continuing upwards.
I reached her sex and hesitated, in my aroused state I only hesitated to fight off the ‘incestuous’ (?) impulses I was having.
So that when I touched her sex, it was as someone bathing her not seducing her.
She felt the difference in the touch and was disappointed.
As horny as she had become now, Bābarah Åālamgīr wanted more contact.
She had been so turned on by holding me while I peed she could not resist stepping into the stream and playing it over herself.
It got her so hot she nearly came.
But now I had washed her sex and reached between her Musalmān legs to get her there.
She spread them and squatted down a bit so I would touch her most private parts and felt the tingle run through her extremely striking Panjvaqtah Namāzī female Musalmān body .
I withdrew my hands and continued up to her stomach.
Finally, I ran my hands over her chest.
I lingered on her Musalmān tits gently massaging her nipples.
Bābarah Åālamgīr stepped back and leaned against me.
I hesitated but continued to rub her Musalmān tits, occasionally running a hand down and over her sex again.
My touch had changed again.
I was no longer bathing her now I was caressing her.
It was foreplay now.
Bābarah Åālamgīr knew it and she loved it.
Bābarah Åālamgīr slowly reached her hand behind her and stroked my thigh as I caressed her and then she slipped that hand up between them and let it gently wrap around my Uncut Hindu manhood.
Slowly she began to stroke me as I touched her extremely striking Panjvaqtah Namāzī female Musalmān body.
My touch became more insistent and soon I was tweaking her nipples with one hand and cupping her sex with the other.
Then without warning and probably by accident I touched her ravenous Musalmān clit with my finger and that little touch caused her to release her pent up frustration.
A stream of juice rolled from her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Choot as orgasm overwhelmed her extremely striking Panjvaqtah Namāzī female Musalmān body.
Bābarah Åālamgīr grasped me harder and pumped me in her bliss and I was so close I too came shooting my Hindu sperm all over her back.
She felt it hit her back.
The realization that my Hindu seed was running down her, that she had caused it, struck her and her orgasm, instead of subsiding, renewed.
Then we were both quiet and we held each other involuntarily.
Bābarah Åālamgīr could feel my Hindu body was tense against hers and she knew I was not ready for this.
Therefore, she had to ease the guilt.
“I’m sorry Durgesh. I didn’t mean to… I mean I didn’t plan on it.”
I shushed her.
“It’s Ok. We both know we should have stopped sooner. My fault too.”
Bābarah Åālamgīr leaned back to me and pushed closer.
“No, I should not try to tempt you like this, but I like being with you so much. It’s fun. I just didn’t intend to let it go. At least it’s not as we did anything like oral or fucked or anything. We just were carried away a little. Ok?”
“Yeah. Ok honey.” I answered.
“You’re not going to go on a guilt trip on me or anything. Are you?” She asked and turned to face me.
I smiled at her.
“No. No guilt trip.”
Bābarah Åālamgīr smiled back and hugged me to her.
“Good, and one last thing. Now I know why Nasīm Muåāwiyah/Al Ħamd Al Åbbās doesn’t want to let you go. No one has ever given me an orgasm that easily before. You are great.”
I smiled as Bābarah Åālamgīr looked back at me.
“Well, I think we’re clean enough, let’s get out and get some breakfast.” I offered.
Bābarah Åālamgīr almost blew it that time because she lost control.
I was feeling guilty and that was the last thing she wanted.
Luckily, she turned it around and made it Ok.
She continued to chastise herself as we dried each other off and went out to get something to eat.
We found a note from Zubaydah Bābar and Nishāt Nazli.
They were at the beach and let the sleepy heads waste the day it said.
Therefore, we ate and chatted.
Just as we were finishing Nasīm Muåāwiyah/Al Ħamd Al Åbbās returned.*
Al Nādirah Al Åbbās was now on her knees and elbows and I was fucking her from her gorgeous nude behind.
We walked through the door.
The Årab Sheikħ that had opened the door, only smiled in greeting.
It was Ved Nagar.
It was a Dream City of Posthumans, Para Humans, the immortals.
Chaturang Shāshvat Maithunyog was normal here.
Capable persons, the Årab Sheikħ thought.
They can do anything.
After all, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan has successfully brought down the age-old kingdom of Al Saåūds.
Now, there’s Democracy in former Saůūdī Årab too.
It’s not Saůūdī Årab any more.
It’s now Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is Al Sadar Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat now.
Chaturang Shāshvat Maithunyog is normal there too now.
The Posthumans, the Para Humans, the immortals.
Are they really?
Allah knows better.
They say they can’t live without Chaturang Shāshvat Maithunyog.
Allah Ålīmun Kħabīrun.
Is qayāmat nearby?
Allah knows better that too.
Allah Ålīmun Kħabīrun.
We entered the elevator.
The door was swung quietly shut behind us by the swift moving Årab Sheikħ.
Leaving the elevator, I heard the sound of rubber tired wheels rolling rapidly along the mosaic floor.
The same high-pitched reedy voice I had heard over the phone said.
“It’s all right, Al Salīm. Don’t bother. I’ll make it.”
Then a wheelchair shot through a curtained doorway.
An emaciated, thin, hand applied a brake, and Al Nādirah Al Åbbās and I found ourselves scrutinized by a pair of piercing gray eyes, deep-set beneath shaggy brows, in a face that seemed all skin and bones.
The man in the wheelchair gave the impression of boundless nervous energy.
It was as though the strength that had been denied the body had gone into nervous vitality.
So intense was the concentration in those gray eyes that the man seemed to forget entirely the amenities of the situation.
He ignored Al Nādirah Al Åbbās utterly and completely.
She was his daughter.
Al Åbbās Al Saåīd devoted all his attention to study me.
He was as if asking in silence whether, even now, it was possible to recognize Al Åbbās Al Saåīd’s true identity.
Was it possible for anybody to recognize him as Al Muħammad Al Qāsim, the former managing director of Al Qāsim Rolling, Casting and Engineering Company?
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Al Safiyah Al Ghaus couldn’t control herself any more.
“That’s the problem.” she fired her husband.
The ever-incompetent idiot.
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs smiled patronizingly.
“What’s the problem?”
“That I married you.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus blurted out. “Shame on you. You can’t fuck your own wife.”
“What the hell you mean? I haven’t fucked you ever? You are a virgin still now?”
“Thank you very much.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus said tartly, “And for your kind information, Al Nadīm Al Quddūs, I was a widow in Las Vegas, Nevada, when you proposed me. I wasn’t a virgin even then.”
Pratāp Bachhalyā interfered,
“Well, well, well, Bhābhījān, Bhāījān, Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī and Durgesh have come here for a definite purpose.”
“Damned if you aren’t right.” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs grabbed the opportunity.
It was troublesome for Al Nadīm Al Quddūs that he had to watch his own sisters being fucked so thoroughly by three Hindus.
Damn Hindus and their Chaturang Shāshvat Maithunyog.
No problem yoga was being appreciated now throughout the globe.
But Chaturang Shāshvat Maithunyog!
“Just what do you want, Hindu Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt?” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs asked me.
Pratāp Bachhalyā squirmed fucking his extremely lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān wife, Al Zakiyah Al Qāsim.
“Just a minute, Bhāījān. We unanimously decided that Al Safiyah Al Ghaus Bhābhījān would talk with Durgesh on our behalf. Didn’t we?”*
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs smiled.
“Then why the hell have we called our lawyer, Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī Bājī?”
“It’s alright, Al Nadīm.” Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī cooed. My Uncut Hindu Penis was still wildly visiting her ever-tight Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt. “I can understand. Pratāp has his faith more in Al Safiyah Al Ghaus Bhābhījān, than in me. I’m still here. Let Al Safiyah Al Ghaus Bhābhījān talk with Durgesh on Pratāp Bachhalyā’s behalf at least.”
“Well,” Vikram Bachhalyā said, “I can’t help that my wife, Al Zakiyah Al Qāsim and Pratāp’s wife, Al Lubnā Al Qāsim, still have faith in Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī Bājī. I don’t. Pratāp is right. Almost every woman of Durgesh shamelessly says:
‘Once with Durgesh,
all the rest is trash.’
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī laughed.
“I don’t blame you, Vikram Bachhalyā. My sister, Al Zakiyah Al Qāsim was never as money minded as she is now.”
“What do you mean?” Vikram Bachhalyā asked curtly.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus prudently avoided the hostility being developed more and more among her sisters and their Bachhalyā Hindu husbands.
In Ved Nagar, despite every effort from me and other Dvij Hindus, the Bachhalyās were still becoming a dominant influencing force now.
The Brāhm Sampradāý, the Brāhm denomination of Hinduism, had opted for the Bachhalyās’ leadership of them.
“Just what do you want Durgesh, Hindu Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt?” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus asked me shrewdly.
“Well,” I said, “I’ve come here as a lawyer representing a client that has an interest adverse to you.”
“Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd?”
“I can’t disclose my client’s name without his express permission.”
“His? Or ‘her’?”
“That’s also a part of privileged communication between a client and a lawyer.”
“What do you want to talk about?” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus smiled at me patiently.
“Imrān Hāshmī is dead. I want to ask you about circumstances that may have led to his death or…”
“Imrān Hāshmī is dead?” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs asked with cold disbelief, “Well, wasn’t he the husband of Dr. Raziyah Siddīqī?”
“That’s right.” I replied Al Nadīm Al Quddūs.
“He can’t be dead.” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs said curtly, “It would greatly embarrass us. Are you certain of your facts, Jījū?”
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs regarded me as though he expected me to wither, to weaken, and crawl under the table under the impact of his disapproving stare.
I winked at Al Nadīm Al Quddūs.
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs immediately avoided meeting my eyes.
He looked elsewhere immediately.
Damn the Hindu scoundrel.
The ever-confident rascal.
If only the womankind never supported Durgesh…
“Imrān Hāshmī is quite thoroughly dead. Someone fucked Imrān Hāshmī in his ass and then stabbed him.”
“I never knew Imrān Hāshmī was a gay.” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs said angrily.
“He never told you?” I asked him feigning surprise, “Perhaps he didn’t know every gay has informed you already that he is a gay. Imrān Hāshmī should also have done the same.”
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs looked at me irritably.
“I didn’t mean that.”
“Al Nadīm,” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus admonished her husband coldly, “Durgesh never said Imrān Hāshmī was a gay.”
“The hell Durgesh didn’t. He said Imrān Hāshmī was fucked in his ass, didn’t he?”
“It doesn’t necessarily mean Imrān Hāshmī was a gay. It may also be that Imrān Hāshmī was raped.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus said.
“Shankar Mahāpralayankar? Rājesh Rājpūt?”*
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus again admonished her husband.
“The trouble with you, Al Nadīm Al Quddūs, is that you believe on publicity more than your own investigation.”
“What do you mean?” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs retorted.
He never liked that a woman, however intelligent she might be, would dominate him ever.
He felt his maleness hurt.
He was unable to understand that wisdom and prudence dominates, not maleness or femaleness.
Musalmān Beauties were prudent enough to understand the ultimate success of Hindu males.
They have successfully established the ever-miraculous global city, Ved Nagar.
Today Musalmān Beauties were ruling on Ved Nagar after Hindus.
The Musalmān Beauties were smarter than Musalmīn.
They had replaced Musalmīn in their sex life with Hindus.
They were adamant to establish Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan had vowed to do it.
It was now her Mission of life/existence.
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs knew it and he had vowed to oppose it.
He was a successful screenplay writer and storywriter.
He had understood how the goal of Ved Nagar was achieved by HVSI Group of Business Enterprises.
Today, HVSI Group of Business Enterprises is controlling every business whether retail or otherwise.
Originally, it was started by Vishvās Shakr Mānav, the utmost brilliant father of Durgesh.
Imāmzādī Sheikħzādī Dr. Al Kħadījah Al Wahāb PhD loved Vishvās Shakr Mānav.
She wanted to destroy Pseudo Islam and replace it with True Islam, everywhere.
Vishvās Shakr Mānav wanted to destroy Pseudo Hinduism.
They found true Hinduism was actually True Islam.
It was the fact that made Hindu Muslim Unity so perfect before 1857 that even the British Empire couldn’t face it.
Even the British Empire needed complete ninety years to destroy it.
Even then, most of the Musalmīn never left India.
The Hindu Muslim Unity was so strong.
Mughal-e-Åāzam, Shahanshāh Jalāluddīn Muħammad Akbar, had set India successfully on the path that couldn’t be reversed even by the great British Empire.*
When my friend, Muħammad Ibrāhīm’s daughter first asked if she and her friends could have a ‘sleep over’ in honor of their graduating from high school I wasn’t too happy.
The thought of a bunch of kids making noise all night, keeping me awake didn’t appeal to me.
But, my friend, Muħammad Ibrāhīm’s wife, Shakīlah Sultān, said sure, no problem so what could I say?
I was angry somewhat with myself that I said her to get permission from her Ammī.
I never anticipated her Ammī would permit it.
Well, it was their house.
My friend, Muħammad Ibrāhīm, was in jail now.
Despite my every effort, I could not get him out on bail.
Muħammad Åbdullah said,
“He doesn’t deserve it, Durgesh. Please stop taking his side. If you are really sympathetic to his wife, Shakīlah Sultān Bhābhījān, why the hell you yourself don’t fuck her now?”
“Muħammad Åbdullaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah,” I shouted, “how the hell did you suggest it?”
Muħammad Åbdullah was furious.
“Hasn’t she grabbed your Uncut Hindu Penis even while Muħammad Ibrāhīm and I were present there?”
“You challenged Shakīlah Sultān, Bhabhijan, didn’t you? You called her a chicken.”
“I did that purposefully. Muħammad Ibrāhīm has killed Imrān Hāshmī. He tried to frame Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd. I would never allow him out on bail even.”*
I watched Muħammad Åbdullah harshly.
“Now I understand, Muħammad Åbdullah.”
“Oh,” Muħammad Åbdullah said curtly, “now you understand. Now the hell you understand.”
“Don’t try to discipline me. I never took any discipline from you. If I had, my entire sixteen nudist feminist sisters were disgracing me still now everywhere.”
“You want to punish Muħammad Ibrāhīm, don’t you?” I charged Muħammad Åbdullah angrily.
“That isn’t any secret now.”
“Muħammad Åbdullah, he says he is innocent.”
“And you believe it?”
“Didn’t he try to frame Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd?”
“Someone tried to frame Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd.” I amended Muħammad Åbdullah patiently, “It’s more likely that Al Nadīm Al Quddūs did it. His sisters did it. Al Muħammad Al Qāsim had a billion at least. And they have already tried their best to disinherit Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd.”
“You think Al Muħammad Al Qāsim has really been murdered?”
“Al Muħammad Al Qāsim wasn’t anybody’s fool. I know he met you before he vanished.”
“Vanished.” Muħammad Åbdullah said stubbornly, “the dead body they claim to be that of Al Muħammad Al Qāsim, certainly resembles him, but…”
“Al Muħammad Al Qāsim has a son in law, Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand. He is himself shrewd enough to troubleshoot Al Muħammad Al Qāsim’s every trouble.”*
I never told Muħammad Åbdullah that Muħammad Ibrāhīm’s wife, Shakīlah Sultān Bhābhījān, has in the meantime fucked me.
I knew Muħammad Åbdullah himself encouraged Shakīlah Sultān Bhābhījān to fuck me.
The day Muħammad Ibrāhīm was refused to be out on bail, Shakīlah Sultān Bhābhījān plunged on me, undressed me herself, and straddled me.
“B..bh.. Bhābhījān,” I gasped, “I respect you very much.”
“Damn you.” Shakīlah Sultān Bhābhījān thundered at me, “I’m your friend’s wife. Am I not?”
“Sure, Bhābhījān, but…”
“He is in jail. Now replace him. You promised Muħammad Ibrāhīm that you would take care of his wives, his daughters, his sisters and his entire household. Didn’t you?”
“Of course, Bhābhījān, but…”
“Your Bhābhījān wants your legendary Uncut Hindu Lund into her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot now. Give it to me.”
I still couldn’t believe Shakīlah Sultān Bhābhījān had come to me entirely nude.
Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā, even at her forty what a dazzling Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Beauty she was.
I had noticed her attention to me.
It was not of a friend’s wife’s ever.
Muħammad Ibrāhīm had also noticed it miserably.
What the hell could he do?
Durgesh was behaving with Shakīlah Sultān perfectly.
But Shakīlah Sultān herself was behaving suggestively.
Allah, wasn’t she satisfied with him?
Did she also want to fuck Durgesh?
Allah Rabbil åālmīn.
Durgesh is a love magnet to Musalmān Beauties.*
Nude Shakīlah Sultān Bhābhījān was straddling on nude me.
My Uncut Hindu Lund was in her extremely beautiful right hand.
She was playing with it.
“Bhābhījān,” I tried to say, “Please, control yourself. Muħammad Ibrāhīm is innocent.”
“If you wouldn’t fuck me, I would testify against your friend.” Shakīlah Sultān Bhābhījān smiled at me cunningly.
“Close the door, please.”
“Hey, I want to show everyone that I’ve found my new husband already.”
“Are you crazy?”
“I have so many women friends that are married to your Musalmān friends.” Shakīlah Sultān Bhābhījān smiled suggestively.
“So?” I looked into her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān eyes coldly.
The woman was making me unable to meet my eyes with Muħammad Ibrāhīm.
She wasn’t any different ultimately from my other Musalmān friends’ Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān wives.
Most of them were already fucking me.
Shakīlah Sultān Bhābhījān was an exception to them.
I respected her therefore very much.
Muħammad Åbdullah was never confident Shakīlah Sultān Bhābhījān would never fuck me.
“Sooner or later they would all fuck you.” Muħammad Åbdullah had predicted.
I knew Muħammad Åbdullah was right.
But I didn’t want to break Muħammad Ibrāhīm’s heart.
Shakīlah Sultān Bhābhījān was rubbing my Uncut Hindu Prick’s utmost experienced head now between her labial lips.
Bit by bit she was pushing herself on me.
“Bhābhījān, we Hindus think a Bhābhī is as if a mother.”
“Nonsense.” Shakīlah Sultān Bhābhījān winked at me, “You have already fucked almost entire Musalmān wives of your Musalmān friends that are extremely beautiful. What do you think I was born yesterday?”
She positioned my Uncut Hindu Prick between her ravenously quivering Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān labial lips and pushed herself.
My Uncut Hindu Lund immediately entered into her Musalmān Choot upto its head.
I felt my Uncut Hindu Lund burning inside her.
So dazzlingly beautiful Shakīlah Sultān Bhābhījān was that despite my efforts not to fuck her, I now wanted to grab her and fuck her wildly till we both existed.
Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā, now perhaps I myself wanted to fuck her more furiously.
Shakīlah Sultān Bhābhījān thrust again and my Uncut Hindu Lund entered into her tight Musalmān Choot almost one fourth.
“Bhābhījān,” I protested.
“Shut up, you idiot, enjoy, and let me enjoy too.”
“I wanted to fuck you right when I saw you first.”
“That’s why you fell in my lap deliberately?”
Shakīlah Sultān Bhābhījān winked at me.
“You scoundrel, you squeezed my boobs and buttocks inadvertently, then and there, didn’t you?”
“Inadvertently, Bhābhījān, inadvertently. You said yourself . You are so beautiful that I couldn’t resist myself at all. And when you grabbed my Uncut Hindu Penis feigning it was an accident, I’d just gone crazy.”
“I wanted to hold it, I wanted to play with it, I wanted to suck it. My so many girlfriends were already enjoying it. And they had challenged me I couldn’t enjoy it before my marriage with Muħammad Ibrāhīm.”*
A week before the party my friend, Muħammad Ibrāhīm’s wife, Shakīlah Sultān, found out she was going to be out of town, presenting at some conference, and wouldn’t be there for the ‘big event’.
This meant that I would be the chaperone.
When I brought up the idea of postponing the sleep over until my friend, Muħammad Ibrāhīm’s wife, Shakīlah Sultān, would be around to ‘heard’ the kids, I again was outvoted.
Saturday morning finally arrived and my friend, Muħammad Ibrāhīm’s daughter, Noor Islam, was up early getting things ready for the party.
I went with her to the grocery store to load up on food and drinks.
When we got home, we went to find out whether the pool was clean and make sure everything was ready.
By about 4:00PM we were ready.
The girls started arriving at about five.
I knew a few of them by name, others looked vaguely familiar and several I had never seen before.
I stayed in my den, watching TV and surfing the web.
About seven, Noor Islam popped her head in the door.
“Uncle, I need your help.” She said, “We can’t get the barbeque going.”
I let out a big sigh, as if she was really imposing on me, got up from my chair and headed to the backyard.
It took no time at all to get the fire going.
When I looked around for my friend, Muħammad Ibrāhīm’s daughter she was nowhere to be found.
Shrugging, I watched the servants piling the hamburgers and hot dogs onto the grill and figured that I had an excellent chef in my services.
Within a few minutes, the eight girls came, flying out of the house, headed for the pool.
As I watched them running by, I began to think that being the chief host for this party wasn’t going to be too bad after all.
All of the girls wore little thong bikinis and from where I stood there wasn’t a bad looking one in the bunch.
It was a perfect evening, fairly warm so everyone was in and out of the pool as they laughed, talked and had a good time.
After a while I noticed that every now and then one or two of the girls would head into the house for a couple minutes and then come back.
At first, I thought it was to use the bathroom, but it seemed the girls were now heading to the house about every 15 minutes.
Finally, my curiosity got the best of me and about 5 minutes after my friend, Muħammad Ibrāhīm’s daughter and her friend Rukħsānah Firdaus went inside, I followed them.*
I didn’t see anyone as I entered the living room.
That’s when I heard laughter coming from my den.
I walked quietly to the door and peaked in.
There was Noor Islam and Rukħsānah Firdaus downing shots of her Ammī’s private stock of Tequila.
From the looks of it the girls had been drinking for a while.
The bottle had been unopened and was now almost empty.
My first thought was to barge in and give them hell.
Then I figured that they were all over 18 and it was a party so why should an old prude and spoil things.
My only concern was if one of them decided to go for a drive.
Stepping into the den, I said in a very stern tone,
“The cost of the Tequila is everyone’s car keys.”
Rukħsānah Firdaus had been bringing a shot to her lips.
She spilled the tequila all over her chin and chest as she jumped when I began to speak.
Both the girls turned toward me, as they quickly set the shot glasses down on the desk and then stood in front of the bottle and glasses.
I let them fidget for a minute before saying,
“I said I want everyone’s car keys – NOW – or the drinking and party stops!”
Rukħsānah Firdaus was the first to get it.
“If we give you our car keys you won’t care if we drink?” she asked is a very shy voice.
“That’s what I said” was my reply.
They almost ran over me!
Both the girls flew out of the room and within two minutes Rukħsānah Firdaus was back with eight sets of car keys.
She was out of breath from running and her chest was heaving as she gasped for air.
The fact that she was wearing a very skimpy bikini and that her superb ardent Musalmān tits looked like they were ready to burst out of the thin material was not wasted on me.
I felt my Uncut Hindu Cock begin to stir as I enjoyed the view.
Apparently Rukħsānah Firdaus had had quite a few shots of the tequila already, she was swaying pretty well as she stood in front of me with a crooked little smile on her face, both hands full of car keys.
“Hereyago,” she mumbled bringing her hands up to her chest she held out the car keys in front of her.
Thinking she was going to drop them, I automatically raised my hands to catch the keys.
At the same moment, Rukħsānah Firdaus swayed in my direction.
The net effect was that her hands hit my chest causing her to drop the keys to the floor while my hands ended up full of her superb ardent Musalmān tits.
As much as I knew, I should have let go of Rukħsānah Firdaus’s tits and back away, yet my hands refused to obey.
“Mr. Durgesh!! You shouldn’t be doing that,” Rukħsānah Firdaus said impishly.
But she did nothing either to push my hands away or back up.
It seemed to me that she pressed her taught 34B’s a little harder into my hands.
“Sālī,” I winked at her, “I’d fuck you till you exist.”
“Really?” she cooed, “you are most welcome. That’s my own dream, however, since I saw you fucking my Ammī vigorously. Allah, how she was enjoying your Uncut Hindu Lund in her ardent Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Choot. I envied her very much.”
Feeling her nipples growing under my fingers, I pinched both of them. Rukħsānah Firdaus let out a little moan deep in her throat and brought her arms up to my shoulders, resting her hands on the back of my neck.
As she pressed against me, my hands came off her superb ardent Musalmān tits , sliding around her back until we were in a tight ashvinātam embrace.
I could feel her nipples now pressing into my chest like two pencil erasers.
My hands slid down her back to her lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān ass.
The thong bikini did nothing to cover her as I took an ass cheek into each hand and began to squeeze.
My Uncut Hindu Cock was now fully erect and pressing against her firm belly.
Looking down into her lovely eyes, I saw her part her lips as she pulled my face to hers.
Our lips met – then our tongues as the kiss became more passionate.
Pulling her to me I could feel her hot Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt against my thigh as she wrapped her legs around mine.
Rukħsānah Firdaus dropped one of her hands between us and began stroking my hard Uncut Hindu Cock.
“Mmmmmmmm, that feels good” she whispered, “I want to see that big Uncut Hindu Cock of yours Mr. Durgesh.”
We pulled far enough apart for both of her hands to reach between us and in no time, she had loosened my belt, unsnapped by trousers and pushed them down my legs.
Her hands then went to my rigid Uncut Hindu Cock, slowly rubbing up and down my 8 inches.
This was too much for me.
My own hands went to work consequently.
I easily brushed aside her skimpy bikini top with one hand and reaching one of her superb ardent Musalmān tits; I begin pinching and pulling on her hard nipple.
My other hand burrowed under Rukħsānah Firdaus’s bikini briefs sliding my fingers thru the fine down of pubic hair until my finger slid over her erect Musalmān clit and then into her hot Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt.
Pulling my hand back a few inches I thrust it forward again repeating the action.
Her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt was so wet my Uncut Hindu Lund slid into her with almost no resistance.
I fucked her.
This caused Rukħsānah Firdaus to moan even more as she dropped one of her hands to my heavy balls and began massaging them.
I was quickly approaching the point of no return.
Any thoughts of how wrong this was were long gone.
The only thing I could think of now was shoving my Uncut Hindu Cock into this hot Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Sex godess’s drooling Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt.
Grabbing the thin material, I yanked off the thong covering Rukħsānah Firdaus’s hot Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Pussy.
Then circling her waist with my arm I lifted her up off the floor.
It was two steps to the wall to steady us.
As we moved I dropped my other hand to my Uncut Hindu Cock and positioned the head at her hot Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Pussy and lowered her onto my fat pole.
The whole process took just a few seconds.
Rukħsānah Firdaus’s eyes opened wide as she felt her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Pussy lips being stretched by my huge Hindu erection.
She was about to say something when I relaxed my hold on her, causing her to slide all the way down on my waiting Uncut Hindu Cock.
She was now impaled on my Uncut Hindu Cock with her back against the wall and her feet dangling several inches off the floor.
“Allah, Måshā Allah! Subħān Allah! Oh God, you’ve got a huge Uncut Hindu Cock!” she hissed as I lifted her up and dropped her on my Uncut Hindu Cock again. “It feels like you’re splitting me in half.”
Rukħsānah Firdaus’s arms were now back on my shoulders helping raise and lower her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt onto my steely Uncut Hindu Cock.
She had closed her extremely beautiful Musalmān eyes and was shaking her beautiful head slowly from side to side, as our fucking tempo increased.
Soon sweat broke out across her forehead and upper lip and I could see just the tip of her tongue sticking through her clinched lips.
Her breathing became erratic and her face flushed.
Rukħsānah Firdaus brought her legs up and locked them behind me.
This gave me a better angle at her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt and with the next thrust I went even deeper up her slick Musalmān hole.
That was all it took.
She spasmed in my arms, jerking her head back and letting out a long moan of pleasure.
We fucked for hours, wildly, passionately and assaulting on each other nonstop.
Ultimately, this sent me over the edge and my Uncut Hindu Cock erupted in her tight Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt.
Shooting glob after glob of my cum deep into her grasping Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Pussy.
We held onto each other for several minutes riding the crest of our mutual orgasm.
Finally, Rukħsānah Firdaus unlocked her legs from around my waist and I eased her to the floor.
My Uncut Hindu Cock slid out of her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Pussy, followed by a thick stream of cum.
Our breathing returned to normal and Rukħsānah Firdaus looked up into my eyes as a huge grin crossed her face.
“Allah, Måshā Allah! Subħān Allah! God Mr. Durgesh, you’re still hotat your sixty three!! Wallah!” she said, “You have got one huge Uncut Hindu Cock and boy do you know how to use it. I haven’t cum like that in a long long time. We have GOT to do this again as much as we can.” She pulled my face to hers, gave me a quick passionate kiss and slid out from between the wall and me.
“Now I need to find my suit, clean up this bucket of cum you shot into me and get back to the party.” Finding her thong Rukħsānah Firdaus disappeared in the direction of the downstairs bathroom.*
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam