Midterm 2012: 24

A dazzling Pakistani Musalmān Beauty came walking briskly, energetically, down the street from the opposite direction, turned into the apartment house, and fished in her pocket for a latchkey.

The electric door release buzzed.

The dazzling Pakistani Musalmān Beauty was looking for her latchkey.

She pushed against the door and went on in.

I followed her.

It was my destiny, my infinite Bhogchakr.

Dazzling Musalmān Beauties were everywhere around me no matter wherever I went to.

Moreover, sooner or later they always offered themselves to me to fuck them.

My Uncut Hindu Lund couldn’t stay out of a Musalmān Cunt.

It had to be into some Musalmān Cunt no matter wherever I was.

My infinite Bhogyantrānk was its assurance.

None could override it ever.

I passed the dazzling Pakistani Musalmān Beauty in the corridor, walked to the elevator, and went to the 114^th floor.

I found 11425 near the end of the corridor.

Gently I tapped on the panels of the door.

The young Saůūdī Årab Musalmān Beauty who opened the door was taller than average.

She was dressed in lounging pajamas.

She was tremendously beautiful and fully aware of her extraordinary Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān beauty.

She carried herself firmly erect.

Her brownish hair had highlights.

Her extremely beautiful Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān eyes were blue and cautious.

She surveyed me in frank appraisal.

In her manner, there was neither nervousness nor fear.

She seemed quite capable of taking care of herself in any emergency.

“I don’t know you.” She said to me somewhat curtly.

“How unfortunate of me.” I smiled.

“What?”

“They say every Musalmān Beauty dreams of me.”

“Nonsense!”

“That’s right. I agree with you. But the stupids don’t understand.”

“What do you want?”

“You. Only you.”

“I see. Are you a Romeo?”

“If you are Juliet.”

“Allah! Yā Allaaaaah! Come in, you smart talker.” She looked me over from head to foot, and then stood to one side.

I entered the apartment.

She closed the door and indicated a chair.

Nevertheless, instead of seating herself on another chair, she opted to stand with her back to the door.

Her hands were still on the knob of the door.

“All right,” she asked, “what is it?”

I couldn’t decide she really didn’t know me, or only acting.

“They call me Durgesh. Does it mean anything to you?” I smiled.

“Not a thing. If this is a mash, save your breath. I don’t go out with strangers.”

I watched her ingeniously,

“I’m investigating something.”

“I see.”

“I’ve reason to believe that if you are Mumtāz Maħal Kħurram, you have some information to share with me.”

“I’ve nothing to share with any stranger.”

“About ‘Sea eagle’.” I told her significantly.

“What about it?”

“When did you see it last?”

“Plainclothes?”

“Not exactly.”

“What’s your angle?”

“I’m representing someone.”

“Whom?”

“I’m not authorized to tell you that.”

“I see. A lawyer?”

“A barrister.”

She watched me scrutinizing carefully,

“Representing a millionaire?”

“Maybe and maybe not.” I smiled wickedly.

She also smiled now.

“What’s in it for me?”

“What do you want?”

“Something out of the million you are representing, naturally, stupid.”

“I’m a barrister.”

“There isn’t any problem in my hearing. I heard you very well when you said it.”

“I mean I can’t bribe my witnesses.”

“I’m not asking you to bribe me. I’m asking you to pay for the information I have beneficial to your client.”

“Do you know who my client is?”

“Well, I’m twenty eight. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“What do you mean?”

“Pay for the information or go to hell.”

“I can subpoena you.”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“You’d have to tell everything you know in the court.”

“Sure. I would. But how would it help you?” she smiled deviously.

“What do you want?”

“What can you offer?”

“Nothing.”

She smiled.

Then she left the door and sat down across from me.

“If you are not Mumtāz Maħal Kħurram I’ve nothing to waste your time anymore.”

She smiled at me.

“You don’t know Mumtāz Maħal Kħurram?”

“Obviously.”

“Then how would you ascertain I’m Mumtāz Maħal Kħurram or not?”

“Why would you lie to me?”

“That’s a very good question.” She smiled teasingly, “I like it.”

“Sālī!” I murmured to myself.

She laughed,

“You said something to me, Mr. Barrister?”

“Durgesh. Durgesh is my name. I’ve already told you.”

She kept smiling,

“There isn’t any problem in my hearing. I heard you very well when you said it. I repeat.”

“Well?”

“That’s what you say.”

“What do you mean?”

“How can you ascertain I’m not lying to you if I say I’m Mumtāz Maħal Kħurram?”

“I see.”

“You should. And similarly how can I ascertain you are really a Barrister?”

I smiled.

“I think you have plenty of time to waste with me in arguing.”

“Afraid of arguing with a young lady?”

“I haven’t enough time you have.”

“I sympathize with you.”

She crossed her legs.

Then she hugged one knee with the interlaced fingers of beautiful yet capable hands,

“Pardon me for being cautious. But it is Islamabad. I read so much stuff these days of Hindus getting into Musalmān women’s apartments and raping them. Why should I take any chance at all?”

I smiled,

“You think I’d rap you?”

“If you are not impotent why isn’t it possible?”

Suddenly, to my utmost surprise, the door to inside opened and Kħadījah Al Tayyabah entered there.***

Kħadījah Al Tayyabah sat at the kitchen table, head buried in trembling hands and tears streaming from her eyes, shoulders heaving as sobs poured from the very heart of her soul.

After 18 years, thousands of arguments and some violent beatings, her marriage to Muħammad Åbdullah was over, he’d taken-off with a younger woman leaving Kħadījah Al Tayyabah and their daughter Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah, to fend for themselves.

It wasn’t the fact that Muħammad Åbdullah had gone with another younger Musalmān woman.

Kħadījah Al Tayyabah didn’t care.

She’d been out of love with him for the last few years.

It was the loneliness that descended on her once he had gone.

No matter how worthless Muħammad Åbdullah had been, at least he’d been some company during the lonely nights on the isolated smallholding some miles north of Adelaide.

Reaching for the box of Kleenex, Kħadījah Al Tayyabah dabbed her eyes and fought to bring her emotions under control.

It was time to take charge of her life and decisions had to be made not only for her, but for Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah as well.

For nearly two hours, Kħadījah Al Tayyabah brainstormed with herself and when the answer to her problem became clear in her head, she marvelled how simple the answer had been.

She looked anxiously out of the window to assess the level of the sun and judged that in a couple of hours she would be able to set the plan in motion.

In Australia, there was no such thing as twilight, there was no lingering of light after the sun has sank below the horizon.

It was either light or dark.

For that reason, Kħadījah Al Tayyabah knew she would be wasting her time to ring Durgesh before sundown.

I would only return to the homestead the moment the last traces of the sun dipped below the horizon.

I was hanging up my stock whip and hat when I heard the phone coming from the station office.

Frowning to myself I made my way through the rambling homestead and picked up the phone,

“Hello?”

“Durgesh, it is I. How are you?”

“Kħadījah Al Tayyabah? Is that you? Eīshān, it is nice to hear your voice. I was only thinking of you and Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah earlier. How are you both?”

“Fine, now thank you Durgesh, now that I’m talking to you. Durgesh?… Muħammad Åbdullah’s left us and if it was alright, I’d like to come home,” Kħadījah Al Tayyabah asked in a little girl’s voice.

“Oh Kħadījah Al Tayyabah, of course you can come home. You know there is always a place here for you and Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah. You didn’t even have to ask that question, darling.”

“Thank you Durgesh. I’ll put the smallholding on the market and we’ll leave on Saturday. Is there anything you want me to bring from the city?”

“No Kħadījah Al Tayyabah, once you and Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah are here I’ll have everything I want. I’ll get the rooms ready for you, dear; Islam Kamāl Hāshmī and Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah can help me with that. The track gets pretty rough from the main road between Wombat and Dead horse Creeks so be careful when you hit that section. If you’re not here by sundown I’ll come looking for you.”

“Ok Durgesh we’ll be careful. See you on Saturday, I love you Durgesh.”

“I love you as well, darling. Better let Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah pack up plenty of books there was not much for her up here.” I said. “Bye sweetheart.”

A big smile spread across my face.

Islam Kamāl Hāshmī’s daughter and Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah’s daughter in law, Kħadījah Al Tayyabah, was coming home after being married to the most useless sod on the planet.

I was always against this marriage,

“Even his own Ammī, Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah, is not living with him.” I smiled fucking Islam Kamāl Hāshmī’s daughter and Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah both together.

One penetration was into Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah’s Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt and the other penetration was into Islam Kamāl Hāshmī’s Panjvaqtah Namāzī Pakistani Sunni Musalmān Cunt.

Both were entirely nude in front of me.

Both were on their knees.

I was fucking both of them from their gorgeous nude behind.

Even at their sixties, they both were marvellously young.

“Your ever increasing Hindu masculine love for both of us childhood friends is keeping both of us young as you yourself are.” Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah used to say.

Islam Kamāl Hāshmī laughed,

“Well, Durgesh is indebted to Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan for his everlasting miraculous Hindu youth, Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah darling.”

“Durgesh,” Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah squeezed my Uncut Hindu Lund into her still ravenous, still consummately young Saůūdī Årab Panjvaqtah Namāzī Wahābī Musalmān Choot, contracting her vaginal muscles firmly, “your Pakistani Sunni Musalmān Beauty is teasing you. She is praising Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan.”

“She is crazy.” I announced my verdict.***

Kħadījah Al Tayyabah and Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah would bring life back to the lonely homestead that was built on an isolated station.

A station so big that it equalled and bettered some smaller countries in area size and all run by me, six very experienced aboriginal extraordinary American Musalmān Beauties, Islam Kamāl Hāshmī and Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah.

Islam Kamāl Hāshmī and Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah had stepped into the voluntary housekeepers here.

Islam Kamāl Hāshmī and Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah grinned at me as I entered the kitchen with their perfect set of strong white teeth.

“Dinner won’t be long dear. I’ve ordered to make an Irish stew and some fresh damper. Sit down and I’ll get you juice from the fridge.” Islam Kamāl Hāshmī said.

I watched Islam Kamāl Hāshmī and Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah’s trim figures cross the huge country-kitchen and gather an ice-cold Fosters from the fridge.

Her body was looking ripe and firm beneath the tank top and faded shorts she was wearing.

Twisting the top off the juice she set it in front of me and kissed me on my lips, “You look tired Durgesh darling, méré Hindu Piyā, Hindu Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt, hum Musalmān ħasīnāon ké Hindu Kħasam, Hindu husband of us Musalmān Beauties! Have your dinner and get yourself off to bed, I’ll pop in to say goodnight.”

Islam Kamāl Hāshmī and Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah worried a lot about me.

Except them, I’d been somewhat lonely here.

Yet I worked far too hard for the benefits of local Musalmān Beauties.

Islam Kamāl Hāshmī hadn’t seen her daughter for nearly two years but there was little she could do except taking care of me.

I had taken her virginity a few years back, even when Islam Kamāl Hāshmī was not married to Kħadījah Al Tayyabah’s Abbū, Kħuwaylid Åbbās Hāshmī.

I’d taken her gently with a great deal of tenderness and a lot of love and although she knew she could never have me all to herself, she was grateful for the times we shared together.

Islam Kamāl Hāshmī and Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah had developed a relationship with me, occasionally slipping into my bed where they provided some comfort and relief for me.

Islam Kamāl Hāshmī had already decided that tonight they both once again would fuck me to sleep, as it was their moral duty daily.

The sun had been set for nearly an hour and I was anxiously pacing the boards of the veranda watching the direction from which the car would come.

Just when I’d decided, it was time to get the utility out and go looking I saw the reflection of lights coming from over the horizon.

“They’ll be here in 15 minutes,” I said to myself with relief.

It was almost to the minute that Kħadījah Al Tayyabah’s 4-wheel drive circled the hardened ground in front of the house and came to a stop in a swirl of dust.

The engine was switched off and the deafening silence of outback Australia returned.

Only the clicking of the cooling engine could be heard.

“Durgesh, oh Durgesh, I’ve missed you so much it was so good to be back home,” cried Kħadījah Al Tayyabah, throwing her arms around my neck and hugging me tightly.

I wouldn’t have admitted it, but there were tears of happiness in my eyes and was thankful the Aussie night hid the fact from Kħadījah Al Tayyabah.

Crushing her in my bear-like arms, I kissed Kħadījah Al Tayyabah on the forehead, “Eīshān. It is good to have you back home darling.”

After hugging for what seemed to be an eternity, I released Kħadījah Al Tayyabah,

“Where’s Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah?” I asked.

Kħadījah Al Tayyabah giggled,

“Fast asleep. She’s been up since well before dawn and managed to keep awake right up until we turned off the main road and then she went out like a light.”

“Ok. You get inside the house; Islam Kamāl Hāshmī and Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah have dinner on the stove. You must be starving. I’ll get Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah and take her to her room.”

I opened the car door.

Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah had grown since the last time I saw her, the puppy fats she’d had a couple of years ago was gone and replaced by a well toned figure.

“Come on darling,” I said lifting her in my strong arms, “This is no place for a young Musalmān lady to sleep, let’s get you to your room.”

Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah stirred in my arms,

“Hello poppa,” she said sleepily and snuggled her head into my warmth, content to be carried like a darling into the house.

When Kħadījah Al Tayyabah got up the next morning, she was surprised to find me in the kitchen.

“What are you doing here Durgesh, I thought you’d have left ages ago?”

“Morning sweetheart. No, I’m easing back for a couple of weeks. Islam Kamāl Hāshmī and Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah’s gone down to Adelaide. One of their mutual friends has suddenly fallen ill. They’d try to return as soon as possible. This is a slack time on the station and what work there is to do the station hands can do it. I just want to spend some time with you and Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah. Where is she by the way?”

“She’s awake, just having a shower and don’t embarrass her as you used to do me when I was her age, she’s a bit sensitive. I’m having a coffee. Do you want one?”

Our cups were almost empty when Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah came bouncing into the room.

Full of life and goodwill from the best night’s sleep she could ever remember.

Eagerly she ran to me and flung her arms around my neck, smothering my face with kisses.

“Hiya poppa, it was so good to see you again and you don’t look a day older. How do you maintain your miraculous Hindu ever youth? Is what Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan claims true?”

With a bit of a struggle Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah eased herself onto my knee and cuddled close into me.

For reasons Kħadījah Al Tayyabah couldn’t explain to herself, she suddenly felt very jealous of her extremely beautiful young daughter.

Kħadījah Al Tayyabah remembered the times when she was younger and used to sit on my knee.

She remembered the warmth and the feeling of security as I held her in my arms.

The exciting aroma of Musalmān Beauties that clung on my clothes, not to mention the trace of consummated sex that was used on the station.

Kħadījah Al Tayyabah also remembered my other smell as well, fresh from the shower when the comforting scent of Wright’s Coal Tar soap that clung to my body seemed to fill the area surrounding me.

Kħadījah Al Tayyabah smiled to herself at those happy memories and lovingly watched her daughter cuddle into her poppa.

Kħadījah Al Tayyabah’s smile vanished though when she suddenly realized that she’d become wet, very wet between her legs, as she watched the two of us hugging each other.

Excusing herself, she headed for the bathroom and sat down on the toilet seat.

Legs spread wide she commenced masturbating her clit, the vision of her cuddling daughter and me was clear in her mind.

Kħadījah Al Tayyabah fantasized my hand fondling Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah’s Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Pussy.

She cum in seconds.

Her ravenous Musalmān body was trembling with the passion of her actions as the orgasm swept over her.

For long minutes, she sat still and wondered what had brought on those actions where previously she’d had no thoughts at all.

Blotting the juices from her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Pussy Kħadījah Al Tayyabah stood on weakened legs and went for a walk near the dam to get her mind sorted.

After an hour of thought, and analysing her feelings and emotions, Kħadījah Al Tayyabah finally reached a conclusion that shocked her to the very core.

Simply put, she loved me.

She had always loved me but not in the manner, a daughter should love her stepfather.

Her only her Ammī, Islam Kamāl Hāshmī, was my Live in Relationship Partner now, her mother in law, Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah also was.

Her mind went back to, when she was a young teenager and the fluttery feelings she had in her tummy, as she lay in her bed, day dreaming of some handsome prince, doing things with her.

But the handsome prince always had my face.

She realized that she’d suppressed those emotions and the truth was she loved me in a way she shouldn’t.

I was a Hindu also, after all.

In addition, she was an ardent sophisticated Musalmān woman.

How could she love me in that way?

But, are not her own Ammī, Islam Kamāl Hāshmī, and her own mother in law, Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah, also ardent sophisticated Musalmān women?

Yet, isn’t it a fact that they both are my Live in Relationship Partners?

Then why can’t Kħadījah Al Tayyabah too?

Then why can’t Kħadījah Al Tayyabah too??

Over the next few days the knot of desire grew tighter and tighter in Kħadījah Al Tayyabah’s stomach.

She’d taken to masturbating frequently and the fantasy was always of her being with me.

She could think of nothing else even during the chores she’d been assigned to keep her busy during the day.

Often Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah had to speak to her Ammī, Kħadījah Al Tayyabah, several times before she received an answer.

Finally, Kħadījah Al Tayyabah made up her mind.

She would have either to leave the station or seduce me.

Moreover, out of the two, the latter was the preferable option.

Kħadījah Al Tayyabah reasoned that it wouldn’t be hard.

For a start, I loved her to death and would do anything, she asked.

Since a little girl, she had been able to twist me around her little finger.

Kħadījah Al Tayyabah also knew the Hindu male mind better than most Musalmān women had been able to read.

She’d read sufficient books on the subject to know that Hindu men were natural hunters of game and Musalmān women.

It was part of their natural make-up.

All Kħadījah Al Tayyabah had to do was dangle the bait.

The bait part was easy.

One Hindu man with natural Hindu urges was no match for a designing extremely beautiful Musalmān female.

All she had to do was send the correct signals, re-enforce them continually and wear me down.***

It didn’t take long for me to notice the changes.

I was surprised to find that Kħadījah Al Tayyabah had suddenly taken to wearing a variety of skimpy clothing as she worked around the homestead.

It was not only the clothing I noticed either.

It was the flashes of her long legs, as she bent over to complete some task and the front of her dress or blouse that somehow always seemed to be unbuttoned, giving glimpses of the gentle extremely beautiful extremely enticing swelling beneath.

Apart from that, Kħadījah Al Tayyabah had taken to planting kisses on my face at every opportunity possible.

When she got up in the morning, when she said goodnight, served me my tea: any service she provided for me was topped off by her soft lips on my cheek.

After dinner, it was always Kħadījah Al Tayyabah who sat alongside me on the couch.

Her arms were wrapped around my head, cuddled to my shoulder, while we listened to the radio.

I couldn’t deny I wasn’t pleased with the change in her.

Kħadījah Al Tayyabah seemed to be happy and contented at last and that’s what I wanted for her.

It was really good to have Kħadījah Al Tayyabah and Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah on the station.

The two of them seemed to have turned my whole life around and I actually looked forward to each new day.

The only thing missing was Islam Kamāl Hāshmī and Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah.

And that would make my life complete.

Apart from missing their cheerfulness, I missed sinking my Uncut Hindu Cock into their soft Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān feminine form.

They were Islam Kamāl Hāshmī and Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah, and the thought of fucking them, when Kħadījah Al Tayyabah returned; that was on my mind as I passed by the storage shed.

I heard a noise and popped my head around the door.

There lying on her back, on the bales of hay, was Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah; holding a kitten close to her face and stroking it.

Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah’s knees were up and slightly parted.

Her skirt had fallen back into her lap, revealing soft shapely thighs and her lilac panties.

I felt a flush in my face.

My Uncut Hindu Cock was already semi-erect after thinking of Islam Kamāl Hāshmī and Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah.

It turned into a full erection.

It wasn’t Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah lying there.

It was an extremely beautiful young Musalmān female, a prospective mate that my Hindu male instincts told me: had to be serviced and seeded.

“Hello Poppa, are you alright?” Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah asked.

Sanity returned to me,

“Mmmmm. Yes, I’m fine. Thanks love. Just wondered what you were doing. Better get on with my work, I’ll see you later.”

Try as I might, I couldn’t get the image of Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah, lying on her back, showing of her legs and panties, out of my mind.

Then I began fantasizing about her breasts.

They were all that young and big as they were supposed to be.

They complimented her young, comparatively small, yet extremely beautiful female Musalmān frame.

Then it wasn’t hard for me to imagine Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah naked.

Flustered with myself I made my way back to the homestead for lunch.

Things didn’t get any better for me.

Kħadījah Al Tayyabah was in the kitchen cleaning the range.

She was using blackening and managed to get a couple of smudges on her face making the normally fussy Kħadījah Al Tayyabah look totally different from usually immaculate appearance.

In fact I mused, it made her look… beautiful in a funny sort of way.

Kħadījah Al Tayyabah screwed her nose up and then smiled at me,

“Oh, there you are, hang on a minute. I’ll just finish this and I’ll get your lunch. Have you seen Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah at all? She should be back soon.”

Not really expecting an answer, Kħadījah Al Tayyabah bent over to finish blacking the plinth of the cooker, exposing her legs and thighs almost up to the gusset of her panties.

I looked at the vision before me and for the second time my Uncut Hindu Cock was raging in my trousers.

Carefully I maneuvered, manipulated; my offending Uncut Hindu Cock beneath the kitchen table, well out of sight but my mind was running a riot.

First, it had been Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah and now I was looking at Kħadījah Al Tayyabah sexually for the first time.

Kħadījah Al Tayyabah placed a mug of tee in front of me and then a plate of sandwiches.

I couldn’t help myself, staring down the gaping front of her blouse and the swelling of her breasts.

Kħadījah Al Tayyabah leaned and kissed me on the forehead,

“Is there anything else you’d like Durgesh?” she asked seductively.

“Yes, I’d love to fuck your beautiful body,” thought I.

“No, that’s fine love. This will do me a treat. By the way, the carrier brought the groceries that were ordered. Perhaps you could help me put us away later,” replied I once more casting the lustful thoughts from my mind.

Later she had placed most of the groceries for our immediate use into the cupboards, but the spare stock needed to go into the higher storage area.

Kħadījah Al Tayyabah had pulled the steps out and set us close by.

Climbing the steps to the second to top rung, she looked down at me,

“Durgesh, you pass them up please. I’ll store them in order,” she said.

I handed her up a couple of cans before Kħadījah Al Tayyabah said,

“Damn it, hang on Durgesh, I’ve got to move some of the older stuff up here,”

Moreover, Kħadījah Al Tayyabah climbed onto the top rung.

Her head and shoulders disappeared into the storage area.

I held onto the steps and looked upward.

Kħadījah Al Tayyabah moved cans around making a show of sorting out the old stock.

She raised one leg as if to reach in further and hoped that I was looking in the right direction.

Not all those efforts of her were for nothing.

She needn’t have worried.

I was looking up into the gates of her paradise, her Jannat-e-Firdaus.

Long naked legs reached upward giving way to soft flesh thighs and finally, a perfectly shaved Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Pussy.

I couldn’t believe that Kħadījah Al Tayyabah wasn’t wearing panties and was displaying her most private parts deliberately for my view.

Kħadījah Al Tayyabah bit her lower lip significantly, seductively somewhat, cunningly, gently eased her shoulders out of the storage space and looked down at me.

She was intensely content that could see me spell bound.

My eyes were almost fixed firmly up her skirt and my face was coloring to a deep red.

Kħadījah Al Tayyabah finally managed to regain my attention and we set about stacking the excess groceries.

Kħadījah Al Tayyabah was certainly aware now, gleefully that I was using now every opportunity, without even any single exception, to look up her skirt.

She had succeeded ultimately in sending me her message that it was what she is offering to me.

Was I prudent enough to understand it and enjoy the opportunity, being offered to me?

When the last can was stacked away, Kħadījah Al Tayyabah dangerously manoeuvred herself to come down the steps, with her back to them and facing me,

“Hold the ladder for me please Durgesh,” she asked and gingerly descended placing her hands on my shoulders as soon as she reached them.

Her cunning actions allowed her front to brush down the front of me as she made it to the floor level.

Once there, Kħadījah Al Tayyabah lifted her beautiful head and planted a soft lingering kiss full on my lips, “Thank you Durgesh,” she cooed.

I groaned inwardly.

All this was becoming too much for me and I wanted to escape.

I pulled away but Kħadījah Al Tayyabah hung onto my arm.

“Durgesh, tonight I’m going to cook us all a special dinner. Then we’ll have a little party on the veranda, a few lights, some drinks and lots of dancing. I haven’t danced for years and I’m sure Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah would like it.”

“Yes, whatever you say Kħadījah Al Tayyabah, I’m going to check on the horses, see you later,” replied I.***

The sun was well down by the time I returned to the homestead.

I could see the veranda lit with coloured globes as I walked across the paddock.

A small table had been set up for the meal and the strains of gentle music wafted along on the night air.

Kħadījah Al Tayyabah had even gone to the trouble of setting up a small bar with drinks in bottles cooling on

ice along with fresh clean glasses.

She’d obviously gone to a lot of trouble but to be honest with myself, I just didn’t feel in the mood.

I was still remembering the events from earlier in the day.

The homestead door opened as I stepped on to the solid boards of the veranda and a vision of beauty stood before me.

Kħadījah Al Tayyabah had swept her long hair up onto the top of her head giving her a very elegant look.

Subtle use of cosmetics made her look as young as any teenager and her dress was an off-the shoulder creation.

My heart jumped into my mouth as I recognized the dress.

It was a favorite of my Live in Relationship Partner’s, her Ammī’s, Islam Kamāl Hāshmī’s.

“You look… You look very beautiful Kħadījah Al Tayyabah,” I said softly, understanding very well what she was after actually.

Kħadījah Al Tayyabah dropped a little courtesy before softly kissing me on the cheek in welcome.

Her lips burning the spot where she’d touched me.

“Thank you sir. Now Durgesh, you go and get your shower and change into something decent and dinner will be ready.”

By the time the entrée had finished and a few glasses of juice consumed, I felt very mellow and relaxed.

Relating stories from the time I and Islam Kamāl Hāshmī had first taken over the station, I had Kħadījah Al Tayyabah and Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah in fits of laughter.

“Ok. I’ll get the main course. While I’m doing that, Durgesh, why don’t you give Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah a spin on the dance floor, I’ll put some music on for you?”

Like the perfect escort, I held my hand out for Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah and led her to the open space on the veranda.

Taking her gently in my arms, we began dancing to the strains of Andy Williams singing Moon River.

Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah seemed to float across the wooden boards, as light as a feather in my strong arms.

Her extremely beautiful young head was against my shoulder and her big young taut Musalmān breasts were pressed firmly against my Hindu male chest.

Kħadījah Al Tayyabah watched us from the doorway.

Her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Pussy was becoming damp when she saw how her daughter was pressing herself against me and she couldn’t help but notice that my leg was pressing between Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah’s legs as we moved slowly in time with the music.

She guessed correctly that Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah could feel my leg pressing against her sex and that she would also be wet.

Letting out a deep sigh, Kħadījah Al Tayyabah brought out the main course and called the two of us to eat.

More food and more drinks followed.

Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah had ensured that she had added good measures of vodka into her orange juice.

Her Ammī had guessed correctly.

Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah found her panties getting wet at the close physical contact with her poppa.

They got wetter still when my leg pressed insistently against her sex and Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah purposefully moved herself tightly into me, enjoying the sensation of the forbidden movement against her sex.

She’s hoped for another dance after dinner but for some reason found it difficult to keep her eyes open and the room seemed to be spinning.

Head in her hands she began to doze at the table.

Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah was in the land between consciousness and sleep.

My soft voice and ‘Missing You’ and the steady drone of conversation between poppa and her Ammī, Kħadījah Al Tayyabah, had her right on the verge of dropping off into Noddy land.

She heard her Ammī’s voice drift through,

“Carry her through to bed, Durgesh. And take her dress off for me, I’ll tuck her in later.”

Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah felt herself lifted in the strong comforting arms of her poppa and feigned sleep as she was carried through the homestead to her bedroom.

After gently being laid on the bed she felt the buttons of her dress being unfastened and heard my sharp intake of breath when I separated the panels.

Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah had little need for a bra.

Her extremely beautiful young big excellent breasts were themselves firm.

So she really didn’t need one, especially while they were living at the station.

She felt her arms being guided through the armholes and finally the dress was drawn from beneath, leaving her only in panties, ankle socks and sandals.

Even though she was all but asleep, Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah felt the gush of wetness between her legs soaking the gusset of her panties as the socks and sandals were removed.

Then came something she didn’t expect, a hand fondling her naked breast for a Moment, testing the firmness and tweaking the nipple.

Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah bit the inside of her cheek to hold back the groan.

When the hand moved she nearly cried out in her frustration but then it was between her thighs pulling the wet gusset of her panties to one side.

Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah hardly dare breathe and then an Uncut Hindu Lund, yes, that was it certainly; an Uncut Hindu Lund gently pressed into her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān slit.

The Uncut Hindu Lund was there only for a Moment and then it was gone and so was her poppa as she heard me walk from the bedroom.

Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah moved her own finger to her clit and cum immediately.

Kħadījah Al Tayyabah had watched my actions discreetly from the doorway having quietly followed me inside.

As I turned to leave, she’d slipped quickly behind the hall cupboard to avoid being seen but there was a smile on her lips, she’d seen how easily I had been tempted.

Now it was her turn.

Kħadījah Al Tayyabah had her both arms up around my neck and her body firmly pressed into me as we moved to my relaxing voice.

Craftily she’d maneuvered my leg to press against her while her leg pushed against the erection in my trousers.

The hands that had started holding her around her back had gradually gone lower and lower and were now massaging her smart, excellent, exquisite, perfectly round, firm, plump, Panjvaqtah Namāzī Pakistani Sunni Musalmān buttocks.

Standing on tiptoe Kħadījah Al Tayyabah pressed her lips to my ear,

“I love you Durgesh, I really love you,” she whimpered.

Chapter 25

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1. More Creative Adult Sex in English from Durgesh

2.Durgesh in Hindi/Urdu

3. Science Fiction

4. On History

5. Commentary on Ved

6. On Hinduism

7. On Islam