She never took the oath she promised her husband she would take if his Ammī, Shakīlah Qāsim Åbbās, would do the same first.
Al Ħamd Assanā Al Karīm was never wrong in having faith in her husband.
I appreciated Al Faisal Al Qāsim that despite he believed his
How wrong Al Ħamd Assanā Al Karīm was in understanding her own present society.
It wasn’t as Islamic as she thought it was.
As the other societies were, the present day Islamic Society was also a mixed society.
Al Faisal Al Qāsim was dumbfounded.
It was natural.
Who the hell could believe his own wife could betray him in such a way in front of his family?
He bravely challenged his Ammī to take the oath that Al Ħamd Assanā Al Karīm was lying.
Shakīlah Qāsim Åbbās had smiled in her heart on the stupidity of her foolish son.
Al Faisal Al Qāsim had inherited the same stupidity from his father?
Well, let him.
Till the Musalmīn are as stupid as Al Faisal Al Qāsim and his father, Al Qāsim Al Åbbās, are, the evershrewd beautiful Musalmān houseladies, as Shakīlah Qāsim Åbbās, were, could easily keep on their false respect everywhere in the so called Islamic Society.
It never investigates the truth.
It always has faith in ostensibles.
Nevertheless, Al Ħamd Assanā Al Karīm never believed it.
And why the hell shouldn’t he?
Should he love his wife even more than he loved his Ammī?
What did Al Ħamd Assanā Al Karīm want?
He should believe his wife, Al Ħamd Assanā Al Karīm, despite it would be the utter degradation and immense humiliation of his Ammī despite she met his challenge bravely and his wife didn’t?
He divorced Al Ħamd Assanā Al Karīm.
He had to.
It was his promise to Shakīlah Qāsim Åbbās, his Ammī.
Jannat doesn’t lie below the feet of one’s wife.
It is below the feet of one’s Ammī only.
Yet, a Muslim couldn’t, and never shouldn’t sacrifice his Īmān for anything whatsoever it might be.
Shakīlah Qāsim Åbbās smiled triumphantly.
She wanted to get rid of Al Ħamd Assanā Al Karīm.
Al Qāsim Al Åbbās was very proud of his family.
He wanted to keep it joint.
One of his brothers was still living with them.
She let him.
He and his wife both respected Shakīlah Qāsim Åbbās very much.
Yet, she allowed the ever-stupid Al Farīd Al Åbbās and his wife to live with them.
Shakīlah Qāsim Åbbās saw how shrewd her husband’s younger brother’s daughter, Al Åādilah Al Farīd Al Åbbās, was.
I obliged Shakīlah Qāsim Åbbās.
Despite the fact that she wasn’t a good woman, I fucked her.
I had to improve her now.
It was a great tragedy of almost entire women that when their son reached adulthood, they were afraid of their potential daughter in law.
They could never understand they had another role in their son’s life.
It was the only way to win her husband, Al Faisal Al Qāsim, back.
“Why didn’t you do it, you foolish girl?” I asked her fucking her girlfriends one by one.
Al Ħamd Assanā Al Karīm looked at me gravely,
“I would never take any advice from you. You want to fuck me too now.”
“You stupid girl, you didn’t leave any option for your excellent husband.”
“If he were actually excellent, he would never have divorced me.”
“Had not he warned you to divorce if you wouldn’t take the oath on Al Qur’an Al Karīm?”
“Sure, but I thought Tāī Ammī would never go to the extent.”
“She is a liar.”
“Yes, but she succeeded in proving herself innocent because you retreated from your jihad against her.”
“I’m not interested in any jihad against anyone.”
“That’s the worst decision you ever took suicidal to you.” One of her closest friends, Al Busharah Arraħmān, smiled straddling me, “My mother in law did the same trick with me…”
“I know,” Al Ħamd Assanā Al Karīm interrupted Al Busharah Arraħmān, “You took the oath yourself too.”
“Why shouldn’t have I?” Al Busharah Arraħmān took my Penis between her forefinger and thumb, positioned it between her labial lips and thrust.
My Sixty five years old, utmost experienced, utmost talented, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund vanished into her twenty eight years old Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot entirely in her very first shot.
“You cuckolded your husband, Al Busharah Arraħmān,” Al Ħamd Assanā Al Karīm said scornfully, “I’d never.”
“That’s why you are divorced, Al Ħamd Assanā Al Karīm,” Al Busharah Arraħmān laughed fucking me vigorously, “Isn’t it better to cuckold your ever stupid Musalmān husband, instead of being divorced by him?”
“I don’t think so.” Al Ħamd Assanā Al Karīm said curtly.
“Nothing can be done of you ever unrealistic foolishly moral Musalmān houseladies even if you are immensely beautiful.” Al Busharah Arraħmān looked gravely at her closest friend, “Your mother in law took false oath, and she has lost nothing. You foolishly didn’t take even the true oath and lost your husband forever. My mother in law took false oath that she never sent me in Durgesh’s bedroom where Durgesh was already fucking her friend, Annavīdah Al Vaqār…”
“Allah,” Al Busharah Arraħmān was dumbfounded, “Tāī Ammī sent me here to take her mobile,”
Annavīdah Al Vaqār smiled at Al Busharah Arraħmān.
She neither freezed nor was ashamed of herself even a bit.
“Take it, your Tāī Ammī deliberately left her mobile on that table.”*
Al Qāsim Al Åbbās was startled.
“Is your wife, my Ammī, is faithful to you?” Al Faisal Al Qāsim asked Al Qāsim Al Åbbās patiently, “Despite it, have you divorced her? No! My wife, Al Ħamd Assanā Al Karīm, is innocent. Yet, I’ve divorced her. Only because I’d promised to divorce her to my Ammī, your ever dominant wife on you.”
Al Qāsim Al Åbbās could never imagine his son would talk with him ever in this way.
“Never. That’s the point, instead. Ammī was enjoying very much what she was doing with you. She was humiliating you, degrading you. Yet, you have forgiven her. My wife never degraded me, never humiliated me, yet the entire family asked me to divorce her. Why?”
“Aren’t you too?”
“You doubt it, don’t you?”
“Who do you think my real father is? Durgesh himself?”
“Get out. Leave my house, at once!”
“Sure, that’s why I did what I did. I am leaving this house for ever. That’s why I paid my debt to my parents.”
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
As they kissed, their movements became more urgent, more passionate, both of them wanting more.
After a few minutes, Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās pulled away and turned quickly, clamping her extremely lovely pink young Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān mouth over Al Rābiyah Al Faisal’s clit while I was fucking her with my ever stout, ever miraculous, sixty-five years old, utmost experienced, unique, legendary, Uncut Hindu Lund.
Al Rābiyah Al Faisal reached up and grabbed Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās’s ass.
She pulled her hard to her extremely lovely pink young Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān mouth so that she could lick and suck at her lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī luscious young superb Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot.
Her tongue roamed eagerly from her gorgeous, glamorous, perfect, round, firm, luscious, Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī young Musalmān ass all the way down to her clit.
At first, Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās assumed it was Al Rābiyah Al Faisal’s finger slipping into her lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī luscious young superb Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot, but it felt different – longer, thicker.
Then she realised that Al Rābiyah Al Faisal’s hands where still holding her gorgeous, glamorous, perfect, round, firm, luscious, Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī young Musalmān ass.
She sighed as she looked up and saw me beside them.
Her hand was now on my ever stout, ever miraculous, sixty-five years old, utmost experienced, unique, legendary, Uncut Hindu Lund, stroking along my hard Hindu length.
She gasped as she pulled my foreskin back along the thick, curved length of my ever stout, ever miraculous, sixty-five years old, utmost experienced, unique, legendary, Uncut Hindu Lund to reveal the red, bulbous head already dripping with pre cum.
Al Rābiyah Al Faisal watched as I pulled my ever stout, ever miraculous, sixty-five years old, utmost experienced, unique, legendary, Uncut Hindu Lund out of Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās, and moved behind her.
She reached up to stroke my hard, long ever stout, ever miraculous, sixty-five years old, utmost experienced, unique, legendary, Uncut Hindu Lund.
I moaned out loud, as she wanked me gently, her extremely lovely pink young Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān mouth still on Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās’s lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī luscious young superb Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot.
She pulled my ever stout, ever miraculous, sixty-five years old, utmost experienced, unique, legendary, Uncut Hindu Lund towards Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās, guiding me into her.
She watched as I stretched Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās’s lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī luscious young superb Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot.
It disappeared slowly, just the head at first, and then the whole Hindu length of mine.
Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās cried out as she felt my ever stout, ever miraculous, sixty-five years old, utmost experienced, unique, legendary, Uncut Hindu Lund enter her nineteen years old Panjvaqtah Namāzī young Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot.
Even after one year of my almost nonstop lovemaking to her, Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās wasn’t used to my ever stout, ever miraculous, sixty-five years old, utmost experienced, unique, legendary, Uncut Hindu Lund.
She always found there was always something new my ever stout, ever miraculous, sixty-five years old, utmost experienced, unique, legendary, Uncut Hindu Lund could give to her ever ravenous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot.
What a Penis!
What a Lund!
The Penis Benevolent?
Allah Ålīmun Kħabīrun.
Allah knows better.
As I filled her, her lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī luscious young superb Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot started throbbing around my ever stout, ever incredible, sixty-five years old, utmost experienced, unique, legendary, Uncut Hindu Lund.
She felt Al Rābiyah Al Faisal’s mouth sucking on her ardent Musalmān clit.
Her extremely lovely pink young Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān mouth was still hungry to taste her.
I slid my ever stout, ever miraculous, sixty-five years old, utmost experienced, unique, legendary, Uncut Hindu Lund in and out of her, the first long, slow strokes being replaced by a faster, more urgent rhythm as our mutual pleasure, our need, built.
We all cried out as our climaxes built.
I roared as I drove into Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās one last time, before holding my ever stout, ever miraculous, sixty-five years old, utmost experienced, unique, legendary, Uncut Hindu Lund deepest inside her.
She felt it jerking as my balls emptied my Hindu cum into her.
I pulled out of Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās.
Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās rolled off Al Rābiyah Al Faisal, and snuggled up to me as Al Rābiyah Al Faisal did the same, but on the other side of me.
I leant over and kissed them in turn.
Al Rābiyah Al Faisal and Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās both reached for my heavy ever stout, ever incredible, sixty-five years old, utmost skilled, unique, utmost renowned, Uncut Hindu Lund, still erect between my my strong Hindu male thighs, still anointed with Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās‘s fragrant Musalmān juices.
I continued to fuck them as we slept again, not worn out even from our early morning exertions.*
It was my birthday.
I was sixty-five.
As usual, I woke up with a raging hardon.
Not all that unusual for a horny young man like me.
What was unusual today was what was causing it.
As I drifted from sleep to waking, I could feel something bringing me up, or bringing my ever stalwart, ever incredible, sixty-five years old, utmost skilled, unique, fabulous, Uncut Hindu Lund up at least.
Realizing I wasn’t dreaming, I slowly looked down to see, to my incredible surprise, a gorgeous young woman of about twenty-eight with long auburn hair, beautiful tits in a crimson lace chemise.
Her wide pink mouth was wrapped around the shaft of my ever stalwart, ever incredible, sixty-five years old, utmost skilled, unique, fabulous, Uncut Hindu Lund and her delicate young beautiful Musalmān hand stroked the base of it.
It was Al Faisal Al Ħasan’s wife, Al Jalal Al Islam.
“Al Jalal Al Islam?” I asked, shocked, “What the hell is happening? You’re sucking my ever stalwart, ever incredible, sixty-five years old, utmost skilled, unique, fabulous, Uncut Hindu Lund.”
“Mmm,” she sighed, letting my Uncut Hindu Lund slip Momentarily from her mouth, “Happy Birthday, Ħazrat Mahdi ålayhissalām. You’re sixty-five. I thought you’d like a special birthday wake up.”
“What the hell!” I said.
“It’s a grand celebration for a whole year from this very moment.” Al Faisal Al Ħasan’s wife, Al Jalal Al Islam, winked at me, teasing me.
Al Faisal Al Ħasan was Imām Muħammad Ħasan’s son.
He never approved of his Abbū’s activities.
“I love it, Al Faisal Al Ħasan,” Al Faisal Al Ħasan’s wife, Al Jalal Al Islam, said curtly, “You should too. Every dīndār and sincere Musalmān should actually.”*
Al Nādirah Al Faisal and I had been fucking each other for more than a year.
I was Al Nādirah Al Faisal’s, though not exclusively.
The exclusion was entirely impossible for I was already married to Saiyadah Fātimah PhD even before Al Nādirah Al Faisal came in my life.
Al Nādirah Al Faisal shared my bed every night.
Al Nādirah Al Faisal was totally in love with me, and I was in love with Al Nādirah Al Faisal.
Al Nādirah Al Faisal heard my car pull into the driveway, and she greeted me at the front door.
Throwing her arms around my neck, Al Nādirah Al Faisal pulled me close to her and covered my mouth with hers.
It wasn’t a daughterly “welcome home” kiss, it was deep and passionate, including lots of tongue.
“Hi, Al Nādirah Al Faisal.”
I had called her “Al Nādirah Al Faisal” as long as she could remember, starting when Al Nādirah Al Faisal was a little girl.
Now that Al Nādirah Al Faisal was a grown woman, at nineteen, I still calls Al Nādirah Al Faisal that.
Al Nādirah Al Faisal loved it.
I was a Juice drinker.
Al Nādirah Al Faisal poured me a double shot.
I hated liquor.
Al Nādirah Al Faisal had a glass of wine.
Al Nādirah Al Faisal snuggled up next to me and asked me about my day.
I was a Sex Therapist, specializing in beautiful Musalmān houseladies. Expensive cure.
The house HVSI built for Al Nādirah Al Faisal and I was all redwood, natural stone, and lots of glass.
It sat on ten acres, surrounded by woods, and we have a beautiful swimming pool in the backyard.
Al Nādirah Al Faisal and I swim naked.
I was Sixty-Five, but I looked thirty years younger. I had broad shoulders.
I was well muscled, due to my years of sex therapy work.
I still had black hair, miraculously, and black seductive eyes.
I was her idol. Her stepfather, her lover, her best friend.
As Al Nādirah Al Faisal said, we’ve been lovers for about a year, starting just after her eighteenth birthday.
Al Nādirah Al Faisal developed a terrible crush on me just when she entered puberty and her body started to change.
I didn’t make any overt moves toward Al Nādirah Al Faisal for several years; neither could she tell I was looking at Al Nādirah Al Faisal in a different way.
Once her beautiful Musalmān breasts formed their first little buds, they grew rapidly.
Al Nādirah Al Faisal was a B cup in the ninth grade, and by the time Al Nādirah Al Faisal was a senior in high school, Al Nādirah Al Faisal had grown into the C cup that Al Nādirah Al Faisal was now.
I was very open and very frank with Al Nādirah Al Faisal when it came to discussing anything of a sexual nature.
If Al Nādirah Al Faisal had any questions about sex, I would answer them for Al Nādirah Al Faisal, without any admonishments or judgment.
I was quite aware that a lot of teenagers were sexually active, so with the pill, I felt Al Nādirah Al Faisal would be safe.
Al Nādirah Al Faisal had a lot of girlfriends in high school, yet nothing serious.
Al Nādirah Al Faisal did a bunch of making out and a little light touching, through our clothes, but that was the extent of her sexual activity.
I finished my juice, and Al Nādirah Al Faisal mixed her another one.
Al Nādirah Al Faisal sat down beside me, cuddled up, and nuzzled her neck, raining little butterfly kisses all over my face.
Fisting my hand in her hair, I pulled her face into me, and Al Nādirah Al Faisal crushed her lips down on mine.
Kissing me totally intoxicated Al Nādirah Al Faisal, inflamed her with desire.
When I kissed Al Nādirah Al Faisal, there was a hotline between her lips and her clit.
It started to tingle, and Al Nādirah Al Faisal squirmed next to me.
Her mouth was more insistent as I undid the button on her Levi’s and she pulled my zipper down.
Al Nādirah Al Faisal could hear me groan appreciating Al Nādirah Al Faisal, as her hand reached under her shorts, wrapping it around my hardened Sixty five years old, utmost experienced, utmost talented, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund shaft.
Al Nādirah Al Faisal tugged on my pants and pulled them down, exposing my magnificent Sixty five years old, utmost veteran, utmost capable, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund , totally hard, the bulbous head shining and swollen.
Bending down toward me, Al Nādirah Al Faisal took my Sixty five years old, utmost proficient, utmost clever, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund in her hand and lowered her head, taking me in her beautiful young Musalmān mouth.
This drove me crazy, and my hips started to buck, my Sixty five years old, ultimate experienced, ultimate talented, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund rising up to meet her beautiful young Musalmān mouth every time it went down.
Al Nādirah Al Faisal cupped my balls in her hand, fondling them first, and then pulling my scrotum down, in rhythm with her descending mouth.
A growl emitted from deep in her throat.
I threw my head back and fisting both hands in her hair, I pulled her beautiful Musalmān head up and down as I thrust up my Sixty five years old, utmost experienced, utmost talented, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund into her Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān mouth.
Al Nādirah Al Faisal was never surprised that it went on for hours.
She was habitual of my ever lasting sexual prowess now entirely.
My every woman was habitual of it gradually ultimately, sooner or later.
Ultimately, Al Nādirah Al Faisal knew I was getting close to release.
I held her tighter.
My balls started to draw up tight.
Gently, Al Nādirah Al Faisal raked her fingernails over my hardened sack, and that pushed me over the edge.
Swallowing it all, Al Nādirah Al Faisal looked at up me and smiled.
Al Nādirah Al Faisal really loved to make me cum like this, because Al Nādirah Al Faisal knew very well, how much I’d pay it back to her into her young ravenous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot, when we go to bed that night.
Leaving me sated, Al Nādirah Al Faisal got up and made our supper.
Over the years, Al Nādirah Al Faisal had become a really good cook.
That night, Al Nādirah Al Faisal made poached salmon, asparagus with hollandaise sauce, and baby red potatoes.
We had just finished dinner, when the phone rang.
Al Nādirah Al Faisal answered it, and with a scowl, handed it to me.
“It’s HER,” Al Nādirah Al Faisal said.
“Her” referred to her Ammī.
Al Nādirah Al Faisal could never call her Ammī or Mom.
Al Nādirah Al Faisal hated her.
I talked with her for a while.
Al Nādirah Al Faisal couldn’t make much from my side of the conversation, except for an “Uh huh.” “I see.” “Yes.” “I’ll be there.”
“What was that about, Durgesh darling?”
“Well, it seems Al Waħīdah Al Faisal is coming to live with us.”
“Why, Lillāh?” Al Nādirah Al Faisal wailed.*
It was mid morning when we were all awake again.
We stayed together until lunchtime, making love, the three of us enjoying each other’s company, each other’s excellent bodies.
Each of them was as if crazy for me.
I knew very well that it wasn’t my utmost sexual expertise only that, was making even these teenagers crazy to fuck me.
It was the deliberately planned strategy of Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, Modern Democratic Årabia, the Seven Movements of Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and Modern Democratic Årabia too now, their Jet Musalmān Beauties Squad, etctera.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan didn’t want originally to let it happen in this way.
Nevertheless, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was more popular and more capable now.
“She is using the ever unquenched thirst of optimum sex of beautiful Musalmān houseladies, Durgesh, my son.” Imām Muħammad Ħasan, the great man, commented on it gravely, “I wanted to establish Islamic Democracy in the so called Islamic countries and Musalmīn. Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s idea of Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah was never in my imagination.”
“That’s what I said, Abbū.” I commented gravely myself.
“I thought I could use my daughter’s immense obsession to you, positively.” Imām Muħammad Ħasan said ruefully.
“She is trying to make almost every beautiful Musalmān houselady my wife and my wife only. It’s the ever oldest ‘Kr’ñvanto vishvam Ummil Åālmīnam’ movement, nothing else.”
“Projection of that time cycle?”
“Why do you think you aren’t Ħazrat Mahdi ålayhissalām?”
They shared my ever stout, ever incredible, sixty-five years old, utmost skilled, unique, utmost renowned, Uncut Hindu Lund as I lay back on the bed, our mouths and hands everywhere.
They watched as a torrent of my Hindu cum exploded from my ever stout, ever incredible, sixty-five years old, utmost skilled, unique, utmost renowned, Uncut Hindu Lund, splattering onto their exquisite young Musalmān breasts and tummies.
I watched as Al Rābiyah Al Faisal licked and sucked my Hindu cum off my Just Eighteen Just Adult young Musalmān lady’s exquisite young Musalmān breasts, watched as Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās writhed under our lovers’ lips and tongue and mouth.
We lay side by side, our bodies pressed together as we kissed, our hands moving over each other’s sexy bodies.
Al Rābiyah Al Faisal stroked me as I watched, my ever stout, ever incredible, sixty-five years old, utmost skilled, unique, utmost renowned, Uncut Hindu Lund long and hard in Al Rābiyah Al Faisal’s hand.
My Hindu shaft was throbbing.
I moved behind Al Rābiyah Al Faisal as she knelt over Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās, all of us moaning as I eased my Ever stout, ever incredible, sixty-five years old, extreme expert, unique, paramount celebrated, Uncut Hindu Lund into Al Rābiyah Al Faisal’s Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot.
I moaned as her lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī luscious young superb Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot sucked me in deep, moulding itself around my ever stout, ever incredible, sixty-five years old, utmost skilled, unique, utmost prominent, Uncut Hindu Lund.
And Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās moaned as she watched my Ever stout, ever incredible, sixty-five years old, utmost skilled, unique, ultimate renowned, Uncut Hindu Lund disappear into Al Rābiyah Al Faisal’s beautiful ardent Musalmān Choot, as she reached up and ran her Musalmān tongue over my Hindu balls.
Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās watched my ever stout, ever incredible, sixty-five years old, utmost skilled, unique, utmost renowned, Uncut Hindu Lund for few moments, watching it slide in and out of Al Rābiyah Al Faisal.
Al Rābiyah Al Faisal immediately reached out for the end of the bed, arching her back, urging me to fuck her harder, to fuck her deeper, faster.
Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās knelt beside her, reaching for Al Rābiyah Al Faisal‘s exquisite young Musalmān breasts, her gorgeous, glamorous, perfect, round, firm, luscious, Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī young Musalmān ass, touching and caressing her.
As Al Rābiyah Al Faisal came again, her lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī luscious young superb Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot was pulsating around my perpetually resolute, ever implausible, sixty-five years old, ultimate accomplished, unique, utmost prominent, Uncut Hindu Lund.
Her gorgeous, glamorous, perfect, round, firm, luscious, Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī young Musalmān ass was in the air, her lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī luscious young superb Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot was wet and ready.
I pulled my perpetually resolute, ever implausible, sixty-five years old, ultimate accomplished, unique, utmost prominent, Uncut Hindu Lund out of Al Rābiyah Al Faisal as her orgasm subsided and drove it straight into my Just Eighteen Just Adult young Musalmān lady’s waiting luscious Musalmān body.
I fucked her hard.
Al Rābiyah Al Faisal was now beside me.
Her hand reached between my legs for my swaying Hindu balls.
Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās cried out as Al Rābiyah Al Faisal pushed my Uncut Hindu Lund into her gorgeous, glamorous, perfect, round, firm, luscious, Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī young Musalmān ass, quickly matching the rhythm of my thrusting perpetually resolute, ever implausible, sixty-five years old, ultimate accomplished, unique, utmost prominent, Uncut Hindu Lund.
Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās almost sobbed as I pulled out of her, but then thrust back with a groan as she felt my ever stout, ever incredible, sixty-five years old, utmost skilled, unique, utmost renowned, Uncut Hindu Lund nudging against her gorgeous, glamorous, perfect, round, firm, luscious, Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī young Musalmān ass.
Al Rābiyah Al Faisal fell back on the bed.
After holding each other for long minutes, we all showered, all too aware that our time together was at an end.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan sat back in the green swivel chair and contemplated her Abbū, Imām Muħammad Ħasan, across her favorite desk.
Her Abbū had a dream to be the Mustafa Kemal Atatürk of entire Islamic World.
But whereas Mustafa Kemal Atatürk was practical, her Abbū, Imām Muħammad Ħasan, was utopian more than practical.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan could not understand that the Musalmīn were never democratic practically except when Ħuzūr sallallāhu ålayhi wa sallam and Kħulfa-e-Rāshidīn were alive.
Maybe Abū Sufyān had embraced Islam ultimately sincerely after the victory of Mecca.
Yet, his ‘crown prince’, his Walī Åhad, Ħazrat Muåāwiyah bin Abū Sufyān, never forgot he was the crown prince of Mecca before Ħuzūr sallallāhu ålayhi wa sallam conquered Mecca.
He was never democratic, nor as sincere to Islam as Ħazrat Kħālid bin Walīd, Saifullah, razī Allāhu Tålā ånahu.
Her Abbū, Imām Muħammad Ħasan, was almost always in a state of high enthusiasm.
He had congratulated his daughter profusely, abundantly.
She had fulfilled his dream in Saudi Arabia.
Even her Ammī, Nafīsah Salmān, had ignored that Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan had revenged her for betraying her father.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan never listened to her Ammī.
Nafīsah Salmān always tried to explain to her daughter,
“Your Abbū is a bloody terrorist. He is a munāfiq, a Pseudo Musalmān. I punished him for his munāfiqat, his pseudo Īmān.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan laughed sarcastically.
“And I punished you for your insincerity to my Abbū as his wife. I can please Durgesh more, sexually, than you can. I’ve successfully replaced you in his life.”
“Because you are thirty two years younger than Durgesh?” Nafīsah Salmān, her Ammī, had smiled cunningly.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan realized once again she owed her cunningness to her Ammī, Nafīsah Salmān, she detested so much.
Her Abbū, Imām Muħammad Ħasan, wasn’t cunning at all.
He was a utopian idealist Musalmān.
Al Tawaħīd Al Muħammad Al Ħasan was Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s utmost close sister.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was happy that Tawaħīd Bājī was too not less cunning than herself or their Ammī, Nafīsah Salmān.
What a great Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān female body her Ammī, Nafīsah Salmān, had.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan could not deny her own immense Musalmān beauty was due to her Ammī’s incredible eternal Musalmān beauty.
Nafīsah Salmān knew very well how to maintain her magical magnificent figure.
Al Tawaħīd Al Muħammad Al Ħasan had congratulated her younger sister too.
She had happily recounted the details of her airplane trip down from Ved Nagar, accompanied by the Secret Service commando who had shown at Ålīgarh Muslim University a week ago.
Al Tawaħīd Al Muħammad Al Ħasan had reported proudly that every passenger aboard was absorbed in a newspaper or weekly magazine filled with pictures of Al Sadar Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan.
Al Tawaħīd Al Muħammad Al Ħasan had recounted the excitement of her ride in the President House limousine too, of the photographers who had surrounded her outside the Al Ajm lobby, of her rescue.
Momentarily muted by her first visit to the Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah Office, Al Tawaħīd Al Muħammad Al Ħasan had then wanted to know everything about it.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan happily led her Tawaħīd Bājī on a tour of the Presidential House, Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah Manzil, pointing out the historical curiosities about which Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan had learned and dreamed of ever since she understood why Durgesh was so loved and so admired by even his enemies.
Even Durgesh’s enemies wanted to be what Durgesh was today.
Yet they only wanted to be Durgesh.
It was their fantasy only.
They only fantasized to be Durgesh.
They never were serious about it.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was serious about it.
She studied gravely, deeply, profoundly, what Durgesh always cared for and his opponents never did, even though they were always jealous of Durgesh.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan always watched Durgesh fucking her eternally beautiful Ammī, Nafīsah Salmān.
She wanted to know what her Abbū, Imām Muħammad Ħasan, lacked and Durgesh doesn’t that her Ammī, Nafīsah Salmān, left her Abbū for Durgesh.
She found Durgesh loved animal wild sex similarly as her Ammī, Nafīsah Salmān, did.
Her Abbū hated animal wild sex.
It was the first reason her eternally beautiful Ammī, Nafīsah Salmān, preferred Durgesh on her Abbū, Imām Muħammad Ħasan.
When having sex with each other, her eternally beautiful Ammī, Nafīsah Salmān, and Durgesh, both were not even human.
They were entirely unashamed beasts, surrendered to their ever wild animal lust, without caring anything else whatsoever.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan could not believe her otherwise ever sophisticated Ammī, Nafīsah Salmān, was so horniest the female beast.
Durgesh was so horniest male beast.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan decided to have Durgesh for herself too.
Yes, Durgesh was thirty two years elder to Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan.
Ħuzūr sallallāhu ålayhi wa sallam were also even far more elder than Ummil Mominīn, Ħazrat Åāyeshah Siddīqah, razī Allāhu Tålā ånahā.
She was surprised by my firm tone, but always welcomed our conversations.
“Åāliyah Kamāluddīn, we need to talk!”
For over ten year now it was just Åāliyah Kamāluddīn, her fifty five years old Hindu friend of her husband, Durgesh, and her nineteen-year old daughter Sādiyah Raħīm.
Åāliyah Kamāluddīn was near forty now, a homebody, and still in pleasing shape.
Her tresses were raven black, only her hair-dresser knew for sure… Her ample bosom hadn’t sagged even a little.
Even forty years couldn’t do that.
Her skin showed no signs of age.
She could still turn heads if she wanted to.
I had not seen my friend’s wife, Åāliyah Kamāluddīn, in anything form-flattering since the old man, my friend, Muħammad Raħīm, was around.
At home she always wore a bra under her frumpy, baggy sweats.
Mostly green, or on a daring day, for her, I sometimes caught a glimpse of a black strap and once even, a red bra.
Though I thought that might have been Sādiyah Raħīm’s on a laundry day.
An occasional glimpse of the beautiful Musalmān cleavage showed the wear of four decades on a full exquisite female Musalmān figure.
Her chest never revealed even some wrinkles and the natural effects of gravity on a well-endowed Musalmān woman.
Her legs were nicely muscled, as she had never been taught to drive, so biking and walking had served her well.
And either by design or comfort, she often wore very skimpy, tight shorts in her garden or for her daily runs or rides.
Åāliyah Kamāluddīn sometimes got wolf-calls and whistles from bold Hindus and she could truly catch my eye when she leaned over the handle bars and peddled swiftly.
The pumping motion often made me wish that her swaying Musalmān breasts would one day spill over the top of her almost transparent bra.
Åāliyah Kamāluddīn had been a middle-management secretary back in the day.
Schlepping, filing and pleasing a typical ladder-climbing idiot of a boss.
She worked overtime and through lunch, and ordered her own flowers for “appreciation day.”
After closing a big deal, the boss would escort her to a hotel lounge for a single appletini and offer a snide jab that her career would advance quicker if she spent more time under my desk than in front of it.
The crude sexual remarks elicited only a smirk.
She sometimes daydreamed that if my remarks were sincere or even clever, she would drag me into the elevator and up to one of the luxury suites on the upper floors.
She once joked that they could settle a sexual harassment suit out of court.
Her boss merely smiled, drained his glass and scanned the room for younger talent.
For the past ten years, Åāliyah Kamāluddīn had become a stay at home Ammī for her children.
She cooked, cleaned and cared for kids while nearly abandoning her own identity.
I was, beside the Mayor of Ved Nagar, a web designer and programmer.
I spent countless hours online and on porn sites to know how to make and use them positively.
I dreamed-up various positive scenarios on my laptop, with every fantasy woman from Xena to the Flying Nun.
After trolling internet spank-sites into the early morning, I would “run one off” and then hunker down for another day.
I had never been a jock.
Though my upscale, early life had afforded me rich-man privileges. I surfed the Pacific off the shore of their Malibu beach house.
I took riding lessons and belonged to a posh club.
This however was long ago.
Åāliyah Kamāluddīn’s wealthy husband had left them with nothing but bills.
Åāliyah Kamāluddīn won custody of a beachfront home they could not afford and platinum cards that served only as anchors.
In came the dot.com.
Boom and soon, my dexterity with a mouse came as a saving grace.
I was soon able to pay down the family debt and transfer Sādiyah Raħīm from a community college to a “big-name” Pac-10 school.
Their life was suddenly golden and the family adored me.
I was classically handsome in this “Hollywood” town.
With dark hair and warm black eyes I always got an offer or a look, every now and then.
When I sat my friend’s wife, Åāliyah Kamāluddīn, down for our “talk”, I had already steeled my nerves with a little juice and had worked my diabolical scheme online for weeks.
In my mind, all my money went into this home and to Sādiyah Raħīm and Åāliyah Kamāluddīn.
I believed I could easily be on my own, living the high-life.
Instead, every day was a round-up of shopping-lists, utility bills, school work and more.
The beach-bunnies and bachelor-pad were nowhere to be found and it was time someone paid.
“Åāliyah Kamāluddīn,” I began, “it’s time for some changes. You and Sādiyah Raħīm have to start doing more around here.”
“Well of course Durgesh, you are the breadwinner and we would do anything to help out. What can I do for you, dear? Anything we can do to help, you just ask.” This was the only way Åāliyah Kamāluddīn knew how to answer.
She sat pleasantly on the couch, in shorts and a thin blouse.
Dark, full black locks framed her face and lay gently on her shoulders.
Her family was European Årabian and they all inherited the shiny, black hair and olive complexion.
Åāliyah Kamāluddīn seldom wore makeup at home, and that only lipstick and liner to high-light her big, doey eyes.
She was content to remain invisible and anonymous.
Her hands were folded delicately in her lap, her long fingers intertwined.
Light-green shorts riding up her thighs and stretching tightly across her wide hips.
Åāliyah Kamāluddīn’s tanned legs showed her toned calves and thick quads.
And her bare legs were crossed at the ankles with one canvas sandal precariously balanced on the toes of her right foot.
These Åāliyah Kamāluddīn-Durgesh talks always lifted her spirits.
She sat her teacup on the inlaid coffee table and scooted to the edge of the sofa.
She looked directly into my eyes.
It was good to see me taking charge of a situation and she was pleased to see me assert myself more.
Åāliyah Kamāluddīn had taken on the role of the facilitator and always tried to ease family friction.
No sense beating around the bush.
“Åāliyah Kamāluddīn, frankly I’m horny. I’m not getting enough sex in this home, and I want to make some changes, here.”
She was surprised at that, naturally.
And coming from her husband’s ever best friend, even if I was the ever infamous Anant Muslimātchod Hindu.
She wasn’t sure what I was trying to say.
“Åāliyah Kamāluddīn,” I tried again, “I’m going to change the dynamics here.”
She was thoroughly confused, shifting her position, and taking on a look of concern.
She tried her best to discern my intent.
“Do you mean you need more privacy, or that you want to have more beautiful Musalmān girlfriends over? Would you like us to stay out of the way on certain nights? You want to have sex. That’s fine, you’re a Hindu, I understand.”
This just tended to infuriate me.
And now anger was increasing moreover.
“Yes, sex, that’s it. In this house. And whenever I want it. And it starts tonight!”
My face reddening as I rose and paced the room ominously.
My ego grew with each repressed desire.
Åāliyah Kamāluddīn was flustered and not quite comprehending.
“Durgesh, it’s late, Sādiyah Raħīm’s staying with a friend and I can make myself scarce. Let me gather a few things and I’ll ride over to my friend, Lailā’s.”
Åāliyah Kamāluddīn rose to leave and as she tried to pass, I grabbed her wrist and said,
“You don’t get it, do you? I want sex. I want it, now. And I want it from you.” I blurted it out and liked the way it sounded.
Then I roughly pulled her back onto the couch.
She was just catching up with my last words, ..
“I want it from you.”
Her beautiful dark, brown eyes grew wide. “Durgesh, are you crazy? I’m your friend’s wife, Åāliyah Kamāluddīn, your Bhābhījān!”
Beads of sweat appeared at her temples and her heart-rate soared.
I sat on top of her to plant her in her place.
Her head started thrashing wildly, her ebon locks clinging to her face and loose strands flying in all directions.
Her strong gams kicked at me as her sandals flew across the living room.
Her grunts of exertion were working like a tonic on my conception of things and she felt my Hindu manhood begin to swell.
The thrill of the hunt was always better than the trophy!
I pushed her sweaty, disheveled excellent Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān body into the cushions and figured my next move.
It was now or never and I had already gone too far to stop.
Her protests increased verbally and physically as her resistance started.
Allah, Allah, Nooooooooooooooo!
Yes, she had lost her mind while flirting with Durgesh.
But not sex!
She teased Durgesh, seduced Durgesh, but it was only a tease.
She wasn’t prepared even to have sex with the ever infamous Anant Muslimātchod Hindu.
She shrieked in my face and tried to heave me off her.
I was sitting on her belly, my left hand clasping both her wrists and my right hand violently yanking her shorts down her legs.
“You grab my Uncut Hindu Penis every now and then, don’t you? You play with it and suck it every night when you think it’s safe and I’m sound asleep. You even undress me yourself then, undress yourself too, straddle me and fuck me almost entire night. Don’t you?”
Åāliyah Kamāluddīn was dumbfounded.
“You, you were never asleep? You, you were always wide-awake?”
“What do you think? Aren’t you one of the utmost beautiful Musalmān wives my Musalmān friends have and always crazy for me? You are already enjoying the ultimate pleasure with me, while I always suppress my feelings for you.”
“I, I’m sorry. I was fed up, frustrated actually.”
“What the hell do you mean, Åāliyah Kamāluddīn?”
“I needed such videos to show to my husband.”
I was startled.
“He always refuses me to straddle him. He doesn’t have sex with me properly. I boasted to him that even you let me straddle yourself. He didn’t believe and laughed at me.”
“Your ever righteous Musalmān friend challenged me to make our videos and show them to him, if you really allow me to straddle you.”
“And you did it? Are you crazy?”
Åāliyah Kamāluddīn blazed at me suddenly,
“Shut up, you damn fool. Every Musalmān houselady that’s beautiful, is crazy for youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu! Not me aloneeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”*
I watched her incredulously.
“So, you prepared our videos yourself and gave him?”
“It wasn’t necessary.” Åāliyah Kamāluddīn said disinterested, “I only had to agree. He himself made entire arrangements.”
“And do you know what he is doing with those videos of us? He is using them to make our adult movies. You are now a wonderful, one of the utmost successful porn stars, with me.”
Åāliyah Kamāluddīn wasn’t startled.
She wasn’t dumbfounded.
Instead, she smiled cunningly.
“And my husband himself is doing it?”
“That’s what I wanted.” Åāliyah Kamāluddīn smiled triumphantly.
“I told him he is a pimp, not any sophisticated person. And now he himself has proved it.”
“Are you crazy? He is selling our porn videos.”
“He isn’t alone,”
“What do you mean?”
“Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan has made Pseudo Musalmīn either to surrender to their cuckolding to their beautiful Musalmān womankind and you, or leave Modern Democratic Årabia and live the vagabond life of a refugee.”
“That’s the exact punishment the terrorists, criminal and criminal minded Pseudo Musalmīn deserve. Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan has decided even not let them unite anywhere. Their unity has always proved harmful to humanity.”
“Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is right, but…”
Åāliyah Kamāluddīn mused.
“Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is always right.”
“Not always.” I said disapprovingly, “No one is always right except Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā, Allah, God. Åāliyah Kamāluddīn, you are a Musalmān lady. You can’t appreciate anyone beyond a limit. Alhamdulillah. Y’ ék ittamu sŧuhi. Mā chidanyasvishansat sakhāyo mā rishañyat.”*
Damn Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan!
She has spread so many white lies about my unique legendary sexual prowess that almost entire Musalmān houseladies believed if they hadn’t have sex with me ever, they haven’t enjoyed even their life optimum as a woman.
My Uncut Hindu Penis wasn’t the biggest one, neither the monster as Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and her ever cunning, ever shrewdest, ever smart, ever preplanned untrue Young Musalmān lady Brigade spread the white lie everywhere.
“Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan,” I gritted my teeth, “Stop spreading white lies about my ever incredible unique legendary sexual prowess.”
“Am I harming you, Anant Muslimātchod Hindu Piyā?” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan cooed straddling me aggressively as usual.
“Not me, and don’t try to bribe me by straddling me aggressively every when I want to talk with you on some grave matter.”
“It’s bribery?” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan looked into my eyes seductively, “It isn’t my ever exclusive wifely love for my ever sexiest Hindu husband?”
“Why do you and your ever obedient Young Musalmān lady Brigade spread white lies about my Uncut Hindu Penis? You and your entire Young Musalmān lady Brigade know with your own constant experiences that I don’t have the biggest penis…”
“Who the hell is interested in the damn biggest penis? They want only to experience the thrill of having sex with the utmost sexiest Hindu.”
“Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan,”
“A large number of them want to have only the ultimate intimacy with you, to feel the pride of it their entire life. They damn care about the truthfulness of the fantastic stories we spread of your ever miraculous sexual prowess. They live in dreams. They want to keep living in dreams. They never want to come out of it. That’s the tragedy of not only us womankind, but of us entire humankind as well.”
“Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is right, Durgesh.” Imāmzādi Ħumayrah Qāzī smiled gravely at me.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Zāhidah Salmān kī kħushī chhupāyé nahīn chhup rahī thī.
Zubayr Yūsuf ko jo kħauf khāyé jā rahā thā, voh Zāhidah Salmān bhī kħūb achchhī taraħ samajh rahī thī.
Lékin aaj hī to Zāhidah Salmān ko mauqā milā thā.
Bahut burī taraħ béizzat kiyā thā Zubayr Yūsuf né Zāhidah Salmān kī Ammī ko.
“Ék Hindu sé, ék kāfir sé chudvāné wālī béħayā Musalmān åurat kyā jāné ki īmān par mar miŧnā kyā hotā hai.”
Yah kahā thā Zubayr Yūsuf né uskī Ammī ké mutålliq.
Ab Zāhidah Salmān dikhāyégī Zubayr Yūsuf ko, ki uské apné kħāndān kī Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān sharīfzādiyān kħud kitnī pāgal hain Durgesh kā Uncut Hindu Lund apnī chust kasī huī Musalmān Chooton ké andar jađ tak nigalné, aur qayāmat tak niglī rahné ké liyé.
“Zubayr Yūsuf Bhāījān,” Zāhidah Salmān phir chahkī, “Durgesh aaj vāqaåī aa rahé hain?”
“Yah sawāl tum mujhsé savéré sé ab tak lātådād martabah kar chukī ho. Kyā baat hai? Jaisé jaisé Durgesh ké aané kā vaqt ho rahā hai, tumhārī bahādurī kā janāzah niklā jā rahā hai?”
“Main āpkī ānkhon ké sāmné chudvā kar dikhāūngī Durgesh sé.”
Zubayr Yūsuf ék tanziyah hansī hansā.
“Main kħud Durgesh par mārtī hūn.”
“To abhī tak jhakh kyon maar rahī thien? Us Hindu Sex maniac sé chudvā saknā kyā tum jaisī qayāmatkħéz Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ħusnparī ké liyé bhī dushwār thā?”
“Yahī to maslah hai, Bhāījān.”
“Kyā matlab? What the hell you mean?”
“Āp tamām Pseudo Musalmīn yah samajhté hain ki koī bhī balā kī ħasīn naujawān Musalmān åurat, jab uskā jī chāhé, bađī āsānī sé Durgesh sé chudvā saktī hai.”
“Chudvā nahīn saktī, chudvātī hai. Samjhīn?” Zubayr Yūsuf ék talkħ hansī hansā, “Har balā kī ħasīn naujawān Musalmān åurat Durgesh sé chudvātī hai.”
“Jis taraħ Taħannus Bhābhījān aur Rukħsānah Salmān Bājī Durgesh sé chudvātī hain?”
“Āpné kħud apnī ānkhon sé dékhā hai Taħannus Bhābhījān ko kabhī Durgesh sé chudvāté?”
“Main tumhāré bāp, Salmān Khan māmū jaisā béghairat nahīn hūn.”*
Zāhidah Salmān ké tan badan mein aag lag gaī.
Apné vālid Ǻllāmah Salmān Khan sé béħad muħabbat kartī thī Zāhidah Salmān.
Aur Zāhidah Salmān hī kyon, Ǻllāmah Salmān Khan kī tamām béŧiyān unsé bépanāh muħabbat kartī thien.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan kī taraħ ék misālī zindagī jīnā chāhté thé Zāhidah Salmān ké Abbū, Ǻllāmah Salmān Khan.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan ké role model thé Mustafā Kemāl Atāturk.
Jis taraħ Turkey mein Jamhūriyat lāī thī Mustafā Kemāl Atāturk né, Imām Muħammad Ħasan bhī usī taraħ Jamhūriyat lānā chāhté hain, lékin kisī ék mulk mein nahīn, tamām Islamī mumālik mein.
Yahī wajah thī ki Imām Muħammad Ħasan Ǻllāmah Salmān Khan ké role model ban chuké thé.
Sirf itnā hī nahīn, Ǻllāmah Salmān Khan né bāqāyedah ék taħrīk bhī shurū kar dī thī, Al Taħrīk Al Jamhūriyat Al Islam.
Pūjā Agnihotrī tađap kar uŧh khađī huī.
“Kyā kahā? Tumhārī yah majāl?”
“Apnī māmūzād bahan ko nahīn kahogī kuchh? Sabīħah Salmān kis taraħ chūs rahī thī Durgesh Jījū kā Uncut Hindu Lund? Tumhīn né ākar batāyā thā na mujhé? Aur zabardastī khīnch kar lé gaī thien mujhé voh sab dikhāné?” Arvind Pāŧhak né muskurāté hué apnī naī navélī sophisticated Brāhmañ patnī ko chhéđā.
Usko pūrā yaqīn thā ki Pūjā Agnihotrī usé kunwārī nahīn milī hai.
Is zamāné mein koī lađkī aŧŧhāis saal tak kunwārī rahé, itnā pāgal nahīn thā Arvind Pāŧhak ki isé sach samajhtā.
“Dékho Pūjā,” usné shādī sé pahlé hī saaf saaf apnī honé wālī bīwī, Pūjā Agnihotrī, sé kah diyā thā, “Durgesh Jījū sé jismānī tålluqāt aaj ék åām bāt ho gaī hai. Durgesh Jījū ké ålāvā agar kisī sé tumhāré tålluqāt rahé hon, to mujhé batā do.”
Pūjā Agnihotrī né nihāyat hī hamdardī ké sāth apné honé wālé pati par nigāh dālī thī.
“Yånī Durgesh Jījū ké sāth méré jismānī tålluqāt par tumko koī åetrāz nahīn hai? Thank you. Thank you very much.”
Arvind Pāŧhak né bađī mushkil sé apné āp ko sambhālā.
“Shādī ké båd tum sirf Durgesh Jījū ké sāth apné aésé tålluqāt jārī rakh saktī ho, méré ålāvā, aur kisī ké sāth hargiz nahīn.”
Pūjā Agnihotrī hansī thī.
“Bahut darté ho Durgesh Jījū sé?”
“Bahut izzat kartā hūn unkī.” Arvind Pāŧhak né nihāyat hī pursukūn lahjé mein jawāb diyā, “Durgesh Jījū mérī saat sagī bahnon aur kaī mamérī, chachérī, phuphérī aur mausérī bahnon ké iklauté live in relationship partner hain. Méré pūré kħāndān par anékon aħsānāt hain Durgesh Jījū ké.”
“Kitnī bahnén hain tumhārī jo is taraħ Durgesh Jījū kī live in relationship partner ban sakné mein kāmyāb ho chukī hain?” Pūjā Agnihotrī ko béħad ħasad ho rahī thī Arvind Pāŧhak kī bahnon sé.
Ghazab kī taqdīr likhwā kar lāī thien kambakħt.
Sab kī sab Durgesh Jījū kī?
“Kabhī ginī nahīn.” Arvind Pāŧhak mand mand muskurātā huā, Pūjā Agnihotrī ko chhéđtā huā bolā thā.
“Phir bhī. Koī andāzah to hogā hī na?”
“Voh to hai. Hongī yahī koī déđh do sau sab milākar.”
“Lo, aur mérī Ammījān farmātī hain ki jitnī lađkiyān hum Musalmānon mein paidah hotī hain, utnī aur kisī society mein paidah nahīn hotīn.”
“Ékdam Durust farmātī hain tumhārī Ammījān. Mérī tamām mamérī aur mausérī bahnén Musalmān hī to hain. Aur unhīn kī tådād kul milākar ék sau bīs yā ék sau tīs sé oopar ho jātī hai. Mérī sagī, chachérī aur phuphérī Brāhmañ bahnén to mushkil sé bīs tīs sé zyādah nahīn hongī.”
“Khodā pahāđ, niklī chuhiyā.”
“Kuchh nahīn, tumhārī bhābhiyon ké bāré mein poochh rahī thī.”
“Kyā poochh rahī thien?”
“Yahī ki unkī tådād to tumhārī bahnon kī tådād sé bhī zyādah hogī.”
“Béshak,” Arvind Pāŧhak ħairānī sé bolā, “tumko kaisé målūm?”
“Bas, samajh jāo. ‘Kħat kā majmūn bhānp lété hain lifāfā dékh kar’.”*
Arvind Pāŧhak ko Pūjā Agnihotrī kī yahī intehāī aggressiveness sakħt nāpasand thī.
Lékin voh kyā kar saktā thā?
Pūjā Agnihotrī sé pyār kartā thā voh, bépanāh muħabbat.
Usko kħūb achchhī taraħ målūm thā ki Pūjā Agnihotrī Durgesh Jījū kī ghulām hai.
Voh khulkar kahtī thī,
“Durgesh Jījū né mujhé chodkar mérī jaan bachāī hai. Main jab tak zindah rahūngī, unké talvé chāŧūngī, unkā Bachhalyā Lund chūsūngī, unsé chudvāūngī, unsé mérī Agnihotrī Brāhmañ gaanđ marāūngī, unkī ghulāmī karūngī main zindagī bhar.”
Padminī Dīxit né Pūjā Agnihotrī kī pīŧh thapthapāī thī.
“Shābās, hum Brahmkanyāon mein Durgesh ké sāth sex ko lékar aesī dīwāngī lagbhag na ké barābar hī pāī jātī hai. Tum koī akelī lađkī, tum koī akelī åurat nahīn ho, jisé chodkar Durgesh né uskī jaan bachāī ho. Durgesh Anant Sr’shŧi Chod hai. Is yug kā sarvottam Sex therapist hai. Hum åuraton ko chodkar hamārī jaan bachānā uskā profession hai, duty hai, kartavý hai, farz hai. Samjhīn?”
“Main nahīn māntī ki Durgesh Jījū né mujhé sirf is wajah sé chodā ki agar voh us vaqt mujhé nahīn chodté to main mar jātī.”
Padminī Dīxit hansī.
“Kyonki tum mānnā nahīn chāhtīn. Tumné apné āpko self-hypnotize kar rakhā hai ki tum mein aesī koī exclusive, sabsé alag thalag, nirālī baat hai, jissé Durgesh tumhén chodkar tumhārī jaan bachāné ké liyé pāgal ho gayā thā.”
Pūjā Agnihotrī né pūrī sanjīdagī ké sāth Dr. Padminī Dīxit ko dékhā.
“Nahīn hai mujh mein aesī koī special individuality?”
Dr. Padminī Dīxit muskurāī.
“Voh to kħair, har åurat mein hotī hai.”*
Pūjā Agnihotrī hans dī.
Human Psychology mein PhD kī thī Pūjā Agnihotrī né.
Ék åjīb sī ghaŧnā ghaŧī thī Pūjā Agnihotrī ké parivār mein.
Us ghaŧnā né ék nihāyat hī kāmyāb Medical Specialist parivār mein paidah honé ké bāwajūd Pūjā Agnihotrī ko Human Psychology mein PhD karné kā sankalp léné par majbūr kar diyā thā.
Durgesh sé sakħt nafrat karté thé Dr. Rām Chandr Agnihotrī.
“He is an incurable sex maniac.” voh kahté thé, “Us vyakti né apné intehāī sexy honé ko justify karné ké liyé na sirf Hinduism, pratyut tamām majāhib ko sex centred banā dālā hai.”
“Lékin, Rām, Durgesh is daur-e-ħāzir kā sabsé zyādah kāmyāb Sex therapist hai. Dr. Jacqueline Lincoln ko cancer ho gayā thā. Tamām Medical Specialist jawāb dé chuké thé. Dr. Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ né Dr. Jacqueline Lincoln ké Arch Bishop father William Lincoln ko approach kiyā. Voh nahīn mane, lékin unkī bīwī né Dr. Jacqueline Lincoln kī Sex Therapy kī ijāzat dé dī. Natījah, Durgesh né Dr. Jacqueline Lincoln ko ék mahīné ké andar chod chod kar ŧhīk kar diyā.” Dr. Al Kħadījah Al Ǻbbās né apné ghor karmkāndī Brāhmañ Hindu pati ko ŧonkā.
Dr. Rām Chandr Agnihotrī itné kaŧŧar Hindu thé ki unhoné apnī ardent Musalmān bīwī, Dr. Al Kħadījah Al Ǻbbās, kā naam badal kar Dr. Sītā Agnihotrī rakh diyā thā.
Apnā yah nayā naam Dr. Al Kħadījah Al Ǻbbās ko bhī béħad pasand āyā thā.
Bhagwatī Sītā unkā ideal thien.
Lékin apné is nayé naam ké bāwajūd Dr. Al Kħadījah Al Ǻbbās né na apnā mazhab badlā thā, na Dr. Rām Chandr Agnihotrī né hī aesī koī shart rakhī thī.
Kitnī åjīb baat thī!
Dr. Rām Chandr Agnihotrī aur Dr. Sītā Agnihotrī kā na koī Lav paidah huā, na Kush.
Unkī sabsé bađī béŧī thī, Dr. Padminī Agnihotrī.
Unkī dūsrī béŧī thī, Dr. Ramā Agnihotrī.
Unkī tīsrī béŧī thī, Dr. Sudhā Agnihotrī.
Unkī chauthī béŧī thī, Dr. Prabhā Agnihotrī.
Unkī pānchvīn béŧī thī, Dr. Nandinī Agnihotrī.
Unkī chhaŧhvīn béŧī thī, Dr. Shubhrā Agnihotrī.
Unkī sātvīn béŧī thī, Pūjā Agnihotrī jo abhī Doctor nahīn banī thī, pađh rahī thī.
Tūfān us vaqt āyā jab Dr. Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ né Dr. Rām Chandr Agnihotrī aur Dr. Al Kħadījah Al Ǻbbās ko approach kiyā.*
Dr. Rām Chandr Agnihotrī né pāglon kī taraħ Dr. Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ kī taraf dékhā.
“What the hell you mean? Voh is Rām kī Sītā hai.”
“Voh Dr. Al Kħadījah Al Ǻbbās hai, mérī bachpan kī sahélī.”
“Main jāntā hūn.”
“Jī,” Dr. Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ sakħtī sé bolī, “main jāntī hūn, ki aap jānté hain.”
“Voh Dr. Al Kħadījah Al Ǻbbās mar chukī hai. Yah uskā dūsrā janm hai. Ab voh Bhagwatī Sītā ko apnā ideal māntī hai.”
Dr. Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ hansī.
“Brahm Bhagwatī Sītā Paulastý Rāvañi kal bhī uskā ideal thien.”
“Nahīn thien. Voh sirf zabānī jamā kħarch thā. Hotīn to Dr. Al Kħadījah Al Ǻbbās Durgesh ké sāth premarital sex ké mazé na lé rahī hotīn.”
“He is right, Farīdah,” Dr. Al Kħadījah Al Ǻbbās sanjīdagī sé bolī, “Brahm Bhagwatī Sītā Paulastý Rāvañi us vaqt bhī mérā ideal thien, lékin not as seriously as she is now.”
Dr. Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ muskurāī.
“Tum nahīn chāhtīn ki tumhārā apnā koī beŧā ho?”*
Dr. Al Kħadījah Al Ǻbbās né ék sāns lī.
“Bilkul chāhtī hūn. Lékin voh beŧā Durgesh kā nahīn, Rām kā honā chāhiyé.”
“Yånī ki ab tum mukammil taur par Dr. Sītā Agnihotrī ban chukī ho?”
“Dr. Sītā Agnihotrī bannā méré liyé fakħr kī baat hai.”
“Sun liyā?” Dr. Rām Chandr Agnihotrī né vijayī muskān ké sāth garvpūrvak Dr. Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ kī taraf dékhā, “Tumhārī Dr. Al Kħadījah Al Ǻbbās ké liyé mérī Dr. Sītā Agnihotrī bannā fakħr kī baat hai aur méré liyé Dr. Sītā Agnihotrī kā mérī patnī honā fakħr kī baat hai.”
“Yånī ki Kħadījah Durgesh sé chudvā saktī hai, Sītā nahīn?”
“Tum pāgal ho,” Dr. Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ hansī, “Durgesh aaj lātådād Sītāon ko chod rahā hai aur unsé apné kaī Lav aur Kush paidah kar chukā hai.”
“You are right. But they are NOT Dr. Sītā Agnihotrī.” Dr. Rām Chandr Agnihotrī né ŧhandī āwāz mein kahā.*
More from Durgesh:
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
“Try to understand.” Tawħīd Muħammad Ħasan smiled sophisticatedly, “Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah is the only solution to get rid of the ever dominant Time Cycle of Årab Burdāfaroshs. Ab initio, right from the beginning of Årab Time Cycle, Årab Burdāfaroshs are selling us Musalmān Beauties, us Årab Beauties at least, to the Hindus. Whenever Pseudo Musalmīn lose their Bhogyantrānk our selling to Hindus immediately starts. To end this bloody Årab Time Cycle we have to establish Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah. Of course, the ever selfish Pseudo Musalmīn would oppose the very concept of Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah. We can’t expect their cooperation in establishing Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah. It’s disgraceful to them, but not disgraceful to us Musalmān Beauties ever.”
Suddenly there was pin drop silence.
None of them was prepared for such a blunt question from Tawħīd Muħammad Ħasan.
It had been decaying and breaking down for centuries and only one man fully realized that fact.
It wasn’t so easy a task.
Fortunately, by the Grace of Allah, Imām Muħammad Ħasan found one of his daughters, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, was extraordinary brilliant, intelligent and smart enough to the extent that almost everyone complimented her calling her As If Reincarnation of Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimahrza herself.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan suddenly saw the possibilities of bringing his dreams true.*
Damn it, whatsoever the hell the realty was, Imām Muħammad Ħasan could use this ever incurable obsession of Hindus and the Musalmān Beauties for each other, using the extraordinary talent of his exceptionally smart daughter Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan.*
Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī smiled.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan noted quite surprised very much that she still appeared not to be more than fifty.
Anyone could only imagine Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī was somewhere around forty to forty-five.
The most she could be was fifty.
Not any more.
Allah, he wouldn’t have believed if someone else had told him it.
Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī couldn’t be less than eighty/eighty five.
Yet she doubtlessly looked more than forty years younger than Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī actually was.
Was what she claimed true?
Only because Durgesh fucks her, she is gloriously beautiful still now?
How the hell it could be?
But then how Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī was still so glamorously young?
Well, he couldn’t believe his own daughter.
Isn’t she in her earlier thirties only?
She has a long way to learn how diplomatic the politicians are ever.
They can’t speak the entire truth ever.
It’s dangerous to their politics.
The common people can’t bear it.
One has to lie to the common people for the common people’s own benefits.
Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī smiled.
“Shouldn’t have you asked your own daughter, Imām Sāħab?” Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī smiled disarmingly.*
Imām Muħammad Ħasan deliberately ignored her suggestion.
“I wonder your ever youth my lady.” He managed to say however genuinely appreciating her.
Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī laughed.
“Isn’t it natural?”
Imām Muħammad Ħasan deliberately avoided to prolong the discussion.
It wasn’t Makkah Mukarramah.
It wasn’t former Saůūdī Årab.
It was Ved Nagar.*
He controlled himself.
Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī laughed.
“Allah tabāruk tålā cannot degrade the Musalmīn to the extent that he would make entire infinite creations on the permanent scientific system that a Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān female genital organ would work as a rheostat forever while the male genital organ of a Hindu Shaktimān would work as an electrified magnetic bar. The Hindu electrified magnetic bar that passes through the rheostat always changing the lines of Panjvaqtah Namāzī female Musalmān magnetic force with every back and forth motion.”
Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī smiled triumphantly.
“On the contrary, I think that’s the exact permanent scientific system established by Allah Rabbil Åālmīn to destroy communalism forever.”
Imām Muħammad Ħasan wasn’t dumbfounded.
Neither he was even surprised even a bit.
He was arguing on the subject ever since his wife Nafīsah Salmān presented the theory in front of him when he only a Mukħtār at Tabah.*
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan had warned her.
“He is still communal. He doesn’t differentiate between a communal Criminal/Criminal minded terrorist Musalmān and a true Musalmān that’s an asset to humanity as Ħuzūrs, Kħulfa-e-Rāshidūnrz, Maulānah Saiyad Abul Åālā Mawdūdīrħ, Dr. APJ Åbdul Kalām, Sāħir Ludhiyānvī, etc.”
Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī smiled.
“I must admit, though, that when I approached the Hindus first, my approach was purely physical, sexual I mean, not scientific.”
Imām Muħammad Ħasan shrugged.
“I appreciate your sincerity and honesty, my lady. But you are not alone. So are we all.”
Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī was entirely nude on her knees.
I was also nude on my knees behind her.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan couldn’t resist to appreciate our still excellent still miraculously athletic bodies.
He had seen me fucking his entire extremely beautiful Musalmān houseladies always.
She was more than eighty.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan watched fascinated.
Well, what’s wrong in it?
Don’t the both of them make a perfect pair?
Aren’t the Musalmīn instructed:
‘Alyaum uħill lakumuttayyibātu v’ t’åāmullazīn ūtulkitāb ħillallakum v’ t’åāmukum ħillallahum valmuħsanātu minal Mu’mināti valmuħsanātu minallazīn ūtulkitāb min qablikum izāātaitumūhunn ujūrahunn muħsinīn ghair musāfiħīn v’ lā muttakħizī akħdānin.’
‘This day are all good things made lawful for you. The food of those who have received the Scripture is lawful for you, and your food is lawful for them. And so are the virtuous women of the believers and the virtuous women of those who received the Scripture before you, when ye give them their marriage portions and live with them in honor, not in fornication, nor taking them as secret concubines.’
— Al Qur’an Al Majīd: 5 Al Māedah|5
Why the hell it was so?
Why the All Knowing, Al Ålīmun Al Kħabīrun, Allah tabāruk tålā Rabbil Åālmīn never entrusted the Musalmīn with the responsibility of the women who were not Al Muħsanātu, the virtuous women?
Because He was Al Ålīmun Al Kħabīrun.
He knew very well that the Årabs were burying their daughters alive in the graves.
They kidnapped the beautiful Årab young women from the other Årab Kabīlahs, other Årab tribes and used to auction/sell them as beautiful women slaves to then Indian Hindus that were the richest males then.
The Hindus were thus already taking care of those women who were not Al Muħsanātu.
‘N’ yé divah pr’thivyā antamāpurn māyābhirdhandām paryabhūvan,
Yujam vajram vr’shbhashchakr indro nirjyotishā tamso gā aduxat.’
‘The persons that didn’t reach the end of celestial bodies and earth, neither chagrined by prudences the one that gives wealth all over. Vr’shabh did vajr to ‘yuj’. The controller of organs continuously milked the cows of darkness, with light.’
‘Udyachchhadhvamap raxo hanāthémām
nārīm SUKR’TE dadhāt.
Dhātā vipashchit patimasyai vivéd,
bhago rājā pur étu prajānan.’
‘Stand up/Raise ye. Smite away the demons. SET THIS WOMAN for WELL DOER. Inspired holder/guardian must know especially the husband for her. The well knowing politician come first/ahead for her genital organ.’
―Ved: 4 Atharv Ved: 14/1/59
If what AlQur’anAl Karīm claims is true, why Ved can’t be the everfirst Book Allah tabāruk tålā has given to the humankind?
They say Durgesh has deliberately translated Ved so that it doesn’t contradict what AlQur’anAl Karīm says.
Not only the traditional Hindus charge Durgesh thus, even some of the Musalmīnare not for behind these communal traditional Hindus.
But even if it’s true, why the hell Musalmīn should oppose Durgesh ever?
Shouldn’t the Musalmīn support Durgesh blindly if Durgesh has really translated Ved deliberately not to contradict what Al Qur’an Al Karīm proposes?
There was nothing too exotic, too unusual, about the ground car.
There were two seats in tandem.
Each of that could hold three.
There were doors at each end of each seat.
The glossy sections that might ordinarily have been windows were black and opaque.
It was undoubtedly because of appropriate polarization.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan was acquainted with that.
Ved Nagar was undoubtedly the utmost ultramodern scientific dream city.
They said it was the gateway to the Multiverse.
The interior of the car was lit by two round spots of brilliant green illumination in the ceiling.
The only thing Imām Muħammad Ħasan felt to be strange was the transmitter set into the partition immediately before the front seat and, of course, the added fact that there were no visible controls.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan smiled respectfully to Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī.
“My lady, Umm-Al-Åālmīn, Umm Al JamhūriyatAl Årabiyat, I suppose the driver is on the other side of this partition?”
Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī smiled politely.
“Exactly so, Imām Muħammad Ħasan. Yet we can give our orders in this fashion.”
She leaned forward slightly and flicked a toggle switch that set a spot of red light flickering.
“You may start now.” Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī said to the driver quietly, “We are ready.”
There was a muted whir that faded almost at once.
Then there was a very slight, very transitory pressing against the back of the seat, and then nothing.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan was meticulously briefed about Ved Nagar yet even then;he couldn’t control himself from being surprised.
It was his ever first visit to the Dream City Ved Nagar.
“Are we moving?” he asked in surprise.
“Sure, we are.” Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī smiled courteously, “Most of the ground cars here at Ved Nagar don’t move on wheels. They glide along a diamagnetic Eīshān Vaigyānic force field. Except for acceleration and deceleration, we’ll feel nothing.”
“Allah, what about curves?”
“The car will bank automatically to compensate. Its level is maintained when traveling up or downhill.”
Imām Muħammad Ħasan said dryly,
“The controls must be complicated, I think.”
Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī laughed.
“Being jealous of Hindus? Don’t be. Ved Nagar is a Secular City. Its Commissioner of Police is a Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān, Muħammad Åbdullah.”
“Then why a Hindu name, Ved Nagar?”
“It was the name supported by us Musalmān Beauties too as well as by the Vedic Monotheist Hindus.”
“I see. So you Musalmān Beauties are the perfect slaves of Hindus here?”
“Slavery is a punishable crime here, my dear, on the contrary. Here at Ved Nagar we can’t use even a human servant.”
“The Municipal Corporation of Ved Nagar has passed a resolution that no human may be disgraced here ever by using him/her as a servant. The robots are there to serve humankind in as large a number as it’s needed.”
“There are rumors in Pseudo Musalmīn that in Ved Nagar the Hindus have Musalmān servants only to humiliate us Musalmīn.”
“See yourself. Musalmīn are too here quite respected. The only prerequisite they have to surrender to live here is they have to get proper education. No uneducated/under educated human being can get any permanent residence here.”
“I see. I asked the controls of this car must be complicated. ”Imām Muħammad Ħasan deliberately changed the subject.*
Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī let him change the subject.
“Quite automatic.” She said, “The driver of the vehicle is a robot.”
Imām Muħammad Ħasan deliberately decided not to be more interested in the damn ground car.
The hell with it.
“How long will this take?” he asked as casually as he could make it.
Damn Ved Nagar.
Really the incredible Dream City.
Hell with it too.
“About an hour.” Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī cooed.
She was enjoying his irrational jealousy.
Why the hell Imām Muħammad Ħasan was jealous after all?
Weren’t his entire Musalmān houseladies residing here now permanently?
I had also offered him a grand residence with any of his numerous Musalmān houseladies.
The offer was still open.
Yet Imām Muħammad Ħasan himself said that he was more interested in serving Ummat-e-Muslimah.
Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī went on,
“Air travel would have been speedier. But Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was concerned to keep you enclosed for your own safety and honor. You see you’ve dishonored Utmost Ultramodern Kħātūn-e-Jannatrz Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan in Makkah Mukarramah, Modern DemocraticÅrabia.”
“Sorry, the aircraft models available on Ved Nagar do not lend themselves to complete enclosure as does a ground car such as that in which we are now riding.”
Imām Muħammad Ħasan himself couldn’t understand why he was acting so irrationally annoyed.
Wasn’t it his own plan?
And when it has succeeded, he wasn’t enjoying it as he should have.
For a moment,Imām Muħammad Ħasan stared curiously at Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī.
A slut transformed now into an Al Muħsanah, a virtuous woman.
Shouldn’t Musalmīn must be grateful to Durgesh for it, instead of hating him.
What the hell the Pseudo Musalmīn wanted?
Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī should have continued to be a slut for Hindus?
Was it more respectful for Pseudo Musalmīn?
Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī was immensely grateful to Durgesh.
And why the hell she shouldn’t be?
He controlled himself.
“Let’s get on with it, my lady. Before arriving here, I was briefed on Ved Nagar. But I couldn’t understand anything my daughter told me. She said Ved Nagar is actually the gateway to Multiverse.”
“That’s right. It leads to a planet the diameter of which is 9,500 miles. That’s the outermost of thirty-seven planets. All the planets are surprisingly inhabited.”
“How is it possible?” Imām Muħammad Ħasan asked furiously, “Shouldn’t at least the nearest planet to the sun be as hottest as the inhabitants there can’t survive? Shouldn’t at least the farthest planet to the sun must be as coldest as the inhabitants there can’t survive?”
Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī smiled prudently.
“That’s the point. They are neither hottest nor coldest to the extent.”
“I never heard of any solar system that has as many as thirty seven inhabitable planets.”
“Fabiayyi ālāi Rabbikumā tukazzibāni.” Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī smiled at him meaningfully.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan couldn’t say anything whatsoever.*
Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī continued, however, now more confidently even.
“In climate and atmosphere, all these thirty seven planets almost resemble Earth to somewhat lesser or greater extent.”
“Let me see,” Imām Muħammad Ħasan raised his right hand, “are you trying to tell me modestly that Ved Nagar is actually Hindu Vishv Underground, now even more powerful than ever?”
“Well, there are some nations even that share your suspicion, Imām Muħammad Ħasan. You aren’t alone.”
“I’ll be damned.”
“No comment, gentleman.”
After a length, Imām Muħammad Ħasan managed to say.
“UNO knows of these facts?”
“Can these facts be hidden?”
Imām Muħammad Ħasan felt like an inhabitant of one of the smaller Cities, visiting the greatest City in the entire history of humankind.
He was counting the Levels in awe.
He had thought of a ‘dwelling’ as something like an apartment unit.
But it was nothing like that at all.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan passed from room to room endlessly.
Of course, Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī was with him on her knees and elbows.
I was still fucking her passionately from her glorious behind.
Panoramic, broad, windows were shrouded closely, allowing no hint of disturbing day to enter.
Lights came to life noiselessly from hidden sources as we entered into a room and died out again, as quietly when we left.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan was wondering now whether his utmost ambitious daughter, now Al Sadar Al JamhūriyatAl Årabiyat, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, the President of Modern Democratic Årabia, has imprisoned him shrewdly under the disguise of arranging a visit of Ved Nagar to him.
He couldn’t assure himself.
“So many rooms, my dear Hindu son in law?” said Imām Muħammad Ħasan, “So many. It’s like a very tiny City.”
“It would seem so, Abbū.” I smiled fucking Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī still vehemently, with equanimity.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan appreciated me genuinely.
What a man.
What a decent gallant man.
His own Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān houseladies had degraded him, disgraced him, humiliated him, and even cuckolded him to themselves and this thorough Hindu gentleman.
But Durgesh never stopped respecting him.
He called him ‘Imām Sāħab’ when Nafīsah Salmān was with them and even ‘Abbū when Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was with them.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan never approved of his Ammī’s relationship with me might get any priority on her own relationship with me ever.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan couldn’t understand why it was necessary to crowd so many residents of Ved Nagar together with Imām Muħammad Ħasan in close quarters.
“How many will be living with me here, Durgesh, my son?” Imām Muħammad Ħasan asked.
“With you?” I was surprised, “It’s your residence here at Ved Nagar, Abbū. Your daughter Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan owns it. There will be herself when she comes here, me and a number of extremely beautiful easy to eyes lady robots.”
Allah, he had forgotten he was briefed expressly that Ved Nagar was a highly robotized utmost ultramodern City.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam