The June morning dawned bright and warm.
It was a beautiful day for a wedding.
I had set my alarm for 6 a.m.
My criminal minded, ever anti Hindu, ever anti humanity, ever communal Pseudo Musalmān stepson, Al Nādir Al Ghāzī, was getting married today.
Despite Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī’s every effort, she could not make her ever-stupid son to see the changing environment of the globe.
He wasn’t ever a member of any terrorist group, nevertheless he never found anything irreligious in any of that anti justice anti human organizations.
Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī decided not to marry him ever until he isn’t human at least somewhat.
Nevertheless, Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī’s scheme again backfired.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār loved Al Nādir Al Ghāzī, as he was himself now.
“You do understand he can join any terrorist group anytime,” Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī told Al Jihad Al Vaqār curtly, “Don’t you?”
“I doubt it, Ammī.” Al Jihad Al Vaqār cooed, “Al Nādir Al Ghāzī didn’t join them when it was easier for the Pseudo Musalmīn terrorists to survive and succeed. Now, Narendr Modī is in power in India. Have you forgotten what Narendr Modī did in Gujarat with these bloody Pseudo Musalmīn terrorists?”*
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī smiled confidently.
The bloody Alkuffār.
Everyone is thinking Islam has lost forever.
Hindutv is in power now.
Not Narendr Modī.
No doubt, the Hindu scoundrel is lucky.
Every effort to kill Narendr Modī has backfired till now, without any exception.
There are millions of Musalmīn.
How many of them the Hindus can arrest?
How many of them the Hindus can hang till they don’t die?
He had proposed to kill Nawaz Sharif in India, at least, if not Narendr Modī.
However, none listened to Al Nādir Al Ghāzī.
They think Al Nādir Al Ghāzī is stupid.
Allah Ålīmun Kħabīrun!
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī sat at the wheel of the marvelous green seat of his Station Wagon.
The Indian Mujahidin are too afraid of Narendr Modī.
They think he is immortal now.
Nonsense, no one is immortal.
Let Al Nādir Al Ghāzī kill the root, Imām Muħammad Ħasan, first.
It was Imām Muħammad Ħasan, Nafīsah Salmān, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and her ever unashamed shameless Musalmān lady brigade that always protect Hindus.
They always betray Musalmīn.
The persons like Jāved Akħtar, Salīm, etcetera have surrendered to Hindus already.
It’s not important what they say.
They have to do it for their own survival.
Kalma-e-kufr is allowed in Islam to self survival if there isn’t another option.
Islam isn’t a dīn of stupidity, irrespective of what the foolish Al Kuffār say.*
I got out of the hotel bed, and walked into the bathroom to get showered before seven.
According to the plan of the bride and groom, each one would share a wedding day breakfast with the other’s parents.
In this case, it meant that Al Nādir Al Ghāzī’s bride-to-be, Al Jihad Al Vaqār, would be having breakfast, with me, in my hotel room, and Al Nādir Al Ghāzī would have breakfast with Al Jihad Al Vaqār’s parents, Al Jalāl Al Wahāb and Al Qahar Al Īmān.
I was grave for my criminal minded, ever anti Hindu, ever anti humanity, ever communal Pseudo Musalmān stepson.
He was marrying a great girl.
It didn’t hurt that she was beautiful from head to toe either.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār was a 26 year old interior decorator who’d met Al Nādir Al Ghāzī through mutual friends.
The attraction was immediate and after 2 years of courtship, he’d asked her to be his wife.
I slipped on a pair of loose fitting sweats and a casual t-shirt.
A knock on the door announced that room service was there.
The bellhop wheeled a cart in filled with different covered trays.
Quickly and quietly the bellhop set the table up for two.
I paid him a tip and he left.
I lifted the lids of each dish and found Belgian waffles under one, strawberries under another, a bowl of whipped cream, scrambled eggs on a plate, and sausages under another.
A carafe of coffee and a bottle of orange juice completed the meal.
I imagined Al Jihad Al Vaqār wouldn’t be too hungry, as is, having wedding day jitters.
But just in case, I’d made sure I ordered a good breakfast.
Promptly at 7 a.m., there was a knock on my hotel room door.
I answered it and there stood my knockout beautiful, soon to be ‘daughter in law’, Al Jihad Al Vaqār.
“Good morning, dad,” Al Jihad Al Vaqār said as she smiled, leaned in and kissed me on my cheek.
I invited her in and ushered her over to the table of waiting food.
I pulled her chair out for her as she sat down.
I took the chair across from her.
Like me, Al Jihad Al Vaqār was very casually dressed for this hour of the morning.
She wore a thick bathrobe under which she wore a short cream colored chemise with boy shorts.
“Would it bother you terribly if I took my robe off, dad?” Al Jihad Al Vaqār asked.
“Of course not Al Jihad Al Vaqār, get comfortable girl.” I replied.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār stood up and took the robe off.
She walked the robe over to the coat rack by the door and hung it there.
I was mesmerized as I watched her walk over to hang the robe up.
I’d never seen Al Jihad Al Vaqār in anything other than classy suits or blue jeans.
The chemise she wore was soft ivory and hung just below the cheeks of her excellent heavy plump luscious Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān butt.
Her legs were long and slender and she was very shapely.
When she turned and walked back towards the table, even I had to catch my breath.
The front of the chemise was cut low and rested on the top of her breasts that were full and filled out the front of the chemise.
I could actually see her beautiful nipples poking through the fabric.
She was one beautiful Musalmān woman I thought again.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār smiled as she sat down across from me.
She enjoyed a good relationship with her soon to be father in law.
I’d made her feel like part of the family from the start.
I razzed her just as much as I did Al Nādir Al Ghāzī and my 3 other Musalmān stepsons.
She’d always admired me.
She also found me very attractive.
Even far more attractive, far more romantic and far sexier than her soon to be husband was.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī was a handsome man, but he looked more like his mother than his father.
More feminine than masculine.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī’s hair was sandy brown like his mother’s, as well as having his mother’s green eyes.
My hair was a dark black, and I was not even starting to grey at my temples, as some men in my age did.
My eyes too were black and framed by spiky long lashes.
Even in my medium height, I stood a full 3 inches taller than my criminal minded, ever anti Hindu, ever anti humanity, ever communal Pseudo Musalmān stepson.
I stood up and started to remove the lids from the food.
“I didn’t know what you’d want, but I knew you liked Belgian waffles so I ordered them and all of this. I hope you’re hungry, young lady.” I smiled warmly at Al Jihad Al Vaqār. “Would you like me to make the bride a plate?”
Al Jihad Al Vaqār smiled back at me,
“Actually Dad, I am hungry, but my nerves are a little edgy. May we just sit and talk for a little bit before we eat? It will calm my nerves.”
“Sure hon'” I said, “C’mon, come sit on the bed and we’ll chat like friends.” I smiled.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār and I got comfortable on the bed.
I sat with my back against the headboard and Al Jihad Al Vaqār sat cross-legged in front of me.
“Is that better?” I asked.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār laughed at my friendly remark and said,
“This is fine, dad.”
She sat there looking at me and couldn’t explain the weird feeling coming over her.
I was sitting there smiling at her and she had this unexplainable urge to kiss me.
How incredible it was.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and her entire Jet Musalmān Beauties Squad always said,
“No beautiful woman, irrespective of her age, can ever resist Durgesh’s infinite masculine charms. Durgesh complains that no woman let him continue ever a platonic relationship with her. But how the hell can anyone? Durgesh has infinite Bhogchakr.”
Is it true?
Al Jihad Al Vaqār laughed.
She never believed in the ever ridiculous Bhogchakr theory of Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and her Musalmān lady brigade.
It was a nonsense.*
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī had parked his station wagon from the Iron Gate at the entrance of the massive Ashvinātam Masjid.
He kept an eye on the University young ladies and even mature Musalmān beautiful ladies going inside for Al Fajir mass.
It was the tenth and last day of their Ijlās.
If their quarry arrived today, as he had the previous nine mornings, the pattern was set.
They would place the dynamite in the tunnel beneath the street tonight.
They would detonate the explosives and assassinate their tremendously scorned enemy, Imām Muħammad Ħasan, the founder of HLMCIC.
Hindu Lund Musalmān Choot International Clubs.
Let the ever-democratic scoundrel go to hell.
Even if they couldn’t kill Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan the so called Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånahā reincarnated due to her immensely incredible black magic powers, they could kill at least her immensely respected Abbū, the devil incarnate,
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī peered at his wristwatch.
“You’d better go in now,” he said quietly to the young lady in the front seat beside him. “If the bastard is on schedule, he should be here in five minutes.”
“Do I have to?” Al Mujāhidah Al Ghāzī smiled devilishly, “What purpose? He’d never get to the damn Masjid, Ashvinātam Masjid, hunh, tomorrow morning.”
“For positive identification,” Al Nādir Al Ghāzī smiled cunningly, “They want to fuck our muqaddas, pious, Pāk, Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān ladies. Let them. Who the hell are more pious than the Mujāhidāt themselves? Hindu scoundrels, fuck Mujāhidāt and be damned. Our Mujāhidāt would keep you busy 24×7 in sex with them. They’d give birth to your Hindu sons who would be the Mujāhidīn next generation, as we are.”
“Imām Muħammad Ħasan has planned to expose us to the true Musalmīn, as he calls them.” Al Mujāhidah Al Ghāzī smiled sarcastically.
“True Musalmīn? Who support the ever coward Hindus?” Al Nādir Al Ghāzī smiled curtly.
“Now they are in power, don’t forget.”
“I won’t, ever,” Al Nādir Al Ghāzī said bitterly. “I want you to see him close up. We’ve got to be certain he is Al Saåīd Al Qādir, the deputy prime minister in charge of defense, and no other. Go ahead, Al Mujāhidah Al Ghāzī, it’s the last time.”
“Allah Ålīmun Kħabīrun,”
“Allah Ålīmun Kħabīrun,”
They never said, “Allah Ħāfiz,”
They always said, ‘Allah Ålīmun Kħabīrun’, instead.
It was their code somewhat even.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī was nineteen only, while Al Nādir Al Ghāzī was twenty nine already.
“Fa qatulū almusharikīn,” Al Nādir Al Ghāzī said.
“Ħaysu wajadttumūhum.” Al Mujāhidah Al Ghāzī said.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī watched her leave the car, cross over, and reach the landing below the massive Masjid door.
Al Mujāhidah Al Ghāzī fell in among other worshipers at the steps, climbing up and going inside the Masjid.*
Al Jihad Al Vaqār tried to dispel the thought from her mind, but it wouldn’t shake.
Even worse, her thoughts started getting more provocative about me.
I sat there a little thoughtful by the strange look on Al Jihad Al Vaqār’s face.
One moment she’d been smiling at me and now she was sitting there staring at me with this peculiar look.
“Al Jihad Al Vaqār, are you okay?” I said in a concerned voice.
As if in a daze, Al Jihad Al Vaqār got up on her knees and inched herself intimately close to me.
Without saying a word, she placed her extremely beautiful red crimson luscious Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān lips on mine and tenderly kissed me.
Inhaling she could take in my masculine Hindu scent and her kiss became a little more searching as her tongue pried its way between my lips.
Now I fully understood the weird look on Al Jihad Al Vaqār’s face, but what I didn’t understand was why in the hell was I returning her kiss?
She was about to marry my criminal minded, ever anti Hindu, ever anti humanity, ever communal Pseudo Musalmān stepson.
Oh how her mouth was warm sweet though.
I sucked her extremely beautiful red crimson luscious Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān lips in between mine while my hands began to explore what was under the chemise.
Right before my eyes, Al Jihad Al Vaqār raised the chemise above and over her head and threw it on the floor.
Her breasts were stunning.
My mouth watered just looking at them.
My hands reached out for them and I grasped and caressed them.
No words were spoken as passion overtook the both of us.
We both knew what our actions were leading up to, but as if possessed by a hunger we couldn’t explain we didn’t stop.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār, only in her boy shorts straddled My lap and began to kiss me again.
Our kiss was hungry and passionate.
My cock was hard and I could feel it pressing against Al Jihad Al Vaqār’s pussy.
I grabbed a hand full of her excellent heavy plump luscious Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass and pulled her even closer to me as we kissed.
Pushing myself away from the headboard, I laid Al Jihad Al Vaqār down in front of me.
Staring at her sexy body, I removed my t-shirt and stripped my sweats off.
My Uncut Hindu Cock was long, thick and very erect as my sweats came off.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār started to slide her boy shorts down, when I took over and slid them completely off for her.
Smiling at her, I bowed my head down and inhaled her excellent young smart Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Pussy.
It was warm and musky.
Easing myself down between her legs, I spread them apart.
Her excellent young smart Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Pussy was beautifully shaven.
Wrapping my mouth fully over it, I kissed it passionately.
My lips ravaged her.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār’s excellent young smart Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān buttocks bucked under me and her hands pressed my head deeper into her excellent young smart Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Pussy.
“Yes, Durgesh, kiss me, kiss me there.” Al Jihad Al Vaqār huskily whispered.
I drove Al Jihad Al Vaqār wild when I kissed across her clit.
I loved this.
At this moment, I did not care that Al Jihad Al Vaqār was about to marry my criminal minded, ever anti Hindu, ever anti humanity, ever communal Pseudo Musalmān stepson.
She had chosen to allow me this privilege and I sure as hell wasn’t going to pass it up.
Let the anti-human Pseudo Musalmān terrorist suffer, even if he was my stepson.
Let him get punished.
I knew once with me, Al Jihad Al Vaqār would never return to Al Nādir Al Ghāzī completely.
She could never forget the immense sexual bliss she would get from me.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī couldn’t give its ten percent even.
Pressing my head hard against her excellent young smart Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Pussy, Al Jihad Al Vaqār felt herself about to cum.
Her orgasm overtook her and spread through her entire body.
I had already stopped doing what I was doing.
As her orgasm subsided, I kissed her clit once more and then got up on top of her.
Kneeing her legs open a bit more, I positioned my ultra-hard Uncut Hindu Cock and then drove it deep inside Al Jihad Al Vaqār.
Her excellent young Musalmān body bucked and we both moaned loudly.
With an ardent intensity, I began to work my Uncut Hindu Cock in and out of her silky Musalmān pussy.
All the while, Al Jihad Al Vaqār moaned loudly and called out my name.
It was a good thing that her parent’s room, was on another floor of the hotel.
Anyone walking by the room would have clearly heard what was going on inside.
Her calling out my name only turned me on more and I worked my Uncut Hindu Cock even harder pounding into her.
Getting up on my knees, I flipped Al Jihad Al Vaqār’s legs over my shoulders and proceeded to drive deeper and deeper into her tight Musalmān pussy.
Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā, she felt so good to me.
I knew I could cum at any moment, but I wouldn’t allow myself as I suspected this moment could never happen again.
With that thought in mind, I gave it all I could working my Uncut Hindu Cock in and out, my balls slapping against Al Jihad Al Vaqār’s beautiful Musalmān ass.
Grunting with each thrust, I watched the ecstasy etched all over Al Jihad Al Vaqār’s beautiful young Musalmān face.
I loved knowing I was the one giving her this pleasure.
As much as I detested my criminal minded, ever anti Hindu, ever anti humanity, ever communal Pseudo Musalmān stepson, I wanted to make sure that nobody ever fucked Al Jihad Al Vaqār as well as I was at this moment.
I wanted her to remember this.
“Yes darling! Is this what you want?” I said out of breath.
“Allah, Måshā Allah, Subħān Allah, yes,” Al Jihad Al Vaqār breathlessly replied. “I want you to cum into me, dad, sorry, not dad now, Durgesh darling, my actual husband from now on!”
“That’s right. What the hell do you think? I want to cuckold your terrorist stepson to both of us. And Wallāh, I promise to do it. Let him clean my Musalmān Cunt licking it, after you fuck me.”
I didn’t say anything as to its response.
I dropped Al Jihad Al Vaqār’s legs off of my shoulders and laid down on her.
Kissing her very lovingly, I rhythmically began to slide my Uncut Hindu Cock back and forth until I felt my orgasm began to build up and finally explode.
A loud guttural cry escaped from my lips as My body froze and I emptied my Hindu seed into Al Jihad Al Vaqār’s fertile Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān womb.
“Thank you darlin'” I said, as I smiled and kissed Al Jihad Al Vaqār afterward. “You’re something else, you beautiful woman. My stepson is a lucky man.”
No more words were said as we got up, enjoyed a shower together and then ate breakfast leisurely.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār got dressed again, and slipped off to her room to prepare for her wedding day.
No one smiled more, at the wedding, than the bride and the father of the groom that day.
About a year later, I could only smile when people told me how much my 3 month old namesake grandson looked like me.
There would be more in the line.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Her Ammī said on the mobile,
“I don’t care how you do it, just try and find out.”
She had phoned saying she had a delicate matter to discuss, and wanted a favor.
This was the favor:
She was concerned that her little brother, Al Nādir Al Aurangzeb, might be gay, or at least unsure of his sexuality.
She had been concerned at some of the friends he was starting to hang around with, some of the clothes he had started to wear, and some of the things he had started to say.
She was wondering, since Al Nādir Al Aurangzeb and Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm used to be close – well certainly the closest of her five offspring – whether Al Nādir Al Aurangzeb could come and stay with Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm and her Hindu husband, Durgesh, during the February school break.
Just for a week, during which Time Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm could perhaps have a chat and find out what was going on in his head.
“Talk, or whatever. Whatever you need to do. However, you do it.”
Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm agreed, against her better judgment.
Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm was twenty eight years old.
Married to me, sixty five, for four years, despite the tremendous opposition of her entire family.
Lived about ten miles from her parents and Al Nādir Al Aurangzeb.
Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm had three older sisters.
Al Nādir Al Aurangzeb was the youngest, and was ten years her junior.
He was the surprise, the unexpected child.
They were not sure her parents planned to have anymore after Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm.
Anyway, as Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm and her siblings were nearest in age Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm and her siblings got on well as kids.
While her sisters were out partying and meeting Hindu boys, Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm and her siblings learned how to change nappies and bath babies.
Again Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm and her siblings lost interest by the Time Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm was fourteen.
Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm and her siblings worked part Time.
I worked full Time for sexual social services.
Everyone insisted persistently I shouldn’t ever change it, including the learned, highly educated and absolutely unbiased humanist Musalmīn even that actually wanted to cure Ummat-e-Muslimah from sexual and other abuses as Ħuzūr sallallāhu ålayhi wa sallam himself did.
They argued none else was as capable and as unbiased in this matter, as I was.
Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm and her siblings liked her job.
Her co-workers were fun and Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm had to admit to enjoying looking at some of the fit young female students.
I was her one and only, in every sense.
She never enjoyed even looking anyone else!*
Al Nādir Al Aurangzeb arrived on Sunday afternoon.
She last saw him at Eīdul Fitr, he seemed well.
They used to be close but Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm didn’t know him that well.
They didn’t talk much and usually when they did, it was at family gathering.
Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm didn’t get the chance to really talk to him.
He always seemed a bit quiet, pre occupied.
A bit of a peripheral figure.
He settled in, they showed him his room.
He quietly found an armchair to make his base for the week.
He read a lot – something Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm didn’t know.
Sunday passed uneventfully, as did Monday.
Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm and I go to work.
Al Nādir Al Aurangzeb just hung around at home.
Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm come back from work about 2pm, and we just watched TV, or read.
I told all this was quite funny.
When Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm told me, straddling and fucking me, her Ammī’s request, I just raised my eyebrows.
“That’s your Ammī all over,” I said gravely.
Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm raised her eyebrows, but I didn’t extend what I already had said of her still extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī ardent Musalmān Ammī.
Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm doubted her still extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī ardent Musalmān Ammī was too having a wild animal extramarital affair with me, as most of her beautiful Musalmān lady friends did.
Yet, Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm never liked they never needed it.
It was only their ever irresponsible sexual adventure that they wanted to keep enjoying.
On Monday night, we went to bed, leaving Al Nādir Al Aurangzeb downstairs watching TV.
Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm awoke about two hours later, just hearing the TV still on.
Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm got up and crept downstairs.
The TV was on, football showing, but Al Nādir Al Aurangzeb was asleep on the sofa.
Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm switched off the TV, shook him awake and led him to his bedroom.
This part of our immensely large house was compact, box shaped, two bedrooms and a small garden.
Downstairs you come in the front door, immediately left is a toilet. Through the small hall to an open plan kitchen, diner, living room and then French windows leading to the garden.
From the hall is a winding staircase up to the landing.
A bathroom, a store cupboard and the two bedrooms.
Tuesday followed a similar pattern to Monday.
Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm got home about 2 pm.
Al Nādir Al Aurangzeb was out, leaving a note saying he had gone for a walk to explore the neighborhood.
Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm was quite pleased that he wasn’t just sitting around all day, but making the effort to get out.
Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm decided she must take him out for lunch one day.
Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm didn’t start work till noon on Wednesday or Friday, and was off on Thursday.
Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm went upstairs to her bedroom.
She removed her work uniform and went to have a shower.
Just as Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm came out the shower, the doorbell rang.
Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm and her siblings wrapped a towel around herself and went downstairs.
It was Al Nādir Al Aurangzeb.
“Sorry Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm, I forgot her key,” he said.
“Don’t worry,” Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm smiled. “It’s all right.”
Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm went back upstairs to dress.
When I came in we had dinner, then I asked Al Nādir Al Aurangzeb if he would like to come along to the pool club with me.
Great idea Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm thought.
It would be good for them to bond a bit.
Maybe I could get some damn clue to save Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm having to solve her Ammī’s ‘problem’.
Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm had to admit Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm had almost forgotten the reason Al Nādir Al Aurangzeb was there.
Even though he was still quiet, Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm and I were enjoying him being here.
Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm couldn’t explain it but Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm thought he was enjoying it too.
Ammī could be quite domineering at Times.
Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm just couldn’t see how Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm and I were going to tackle THE subject.
That night in bed, Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm asked me if I had approached her Ammī’s topic.
“No,” I said abruptly. ” Poor lad, just needs to be left alone I reckon.”
“I do agree, but……”.
“I know I know, your Ammī won’t let it rest.”
“What are you gonna do then?” Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm asked me.
“Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm, I don’t know.”
“You could ask him outright.”
‘I’m not sure, that will probably piss him off.”
“What then? We both fuck around in front of him and see his reaction to it.” I teased Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm.
She didn’t get my point.
“Yeah right.” Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm beamed, “Why didn’t you go into his room naked one night and see if it gets him greedy for your Uncut Hindu Lund ?”
I looked at her,
“Nonsense, I don’t want to fuck any Musalmān in his ass. I’m not Shankar Mahāpralayankar, neither Rājesh Rājpūt. I never lack beautiful Musalmān houseladies and Musalmān Beauties to satisfy myself sexually.”
Al Zubaydah Al Nadīm smiled at me, teasing me,
“Shankar Mahāpralayankar says even a Musalmān’s ass works as an anal rheostat when a Stavak Shaktimān Uncut Hindu Lund penetrates it.”*
Al Åābidah Al Sultān didn’t know why she did it.
She guessed she just wasn’t thinking.
She did it unknowingly.
It was either her increased Bhogchakr to her ultimate status, an Ummil åālmīn, or my increased Bhogyantrānk that provided her immense Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān beauty to let me enjoy her sexually.
I didn’t want to, if it were the second case.
Her husband was one of my Musalmān stepsons and I wanted to keep my Musalmān stepsons’ faith in me too.
Indian National Congress and the other pseudo secular anti Hindus were tremendously defeated in the recent Loksabhā Elections in 2014.
The Time Cycle of Midterm 2012 had resulted ultimately into complete destruction of the anti Hindus and pseudo seculars.
Even the Pseudo Musalmīn were returning to their pre 1857 attitude.
Perhaps even to more.
1857 didn’t have absolute Hindu leadership.
Now, it was too there.
I wanted the return of the faith of even Pseudo Musalmīn in Hindu leadership forever.
The British rule after 1857 had tried to destroy it their best.
It even succeeded even in dividing India and keeping Pakistan against India deliberately, determinedly and adamantly.
Previous Indian National Congress government of India stupidly let it happen.
Now an NDA, a BJP government actually, with complete majority, had come into power.
The Hindus must show their real big heartedness to not only to Musalmīn but to every minority even.
It would prove their unique competence to lead and make the world better constantly nonstop forever.
It was an opportunity for Hindus to prove the anti Hindu pseudo seculars wrong forever.
HVSI had brought it laboriously gradually eventually ultimately in two years approximately.
Now it was the time to act intellectually.
Hindus could retain their victory by acting intellectually winning the confidence and faith of the minorities forever and prove the anti Hindu pseudo seculars wrong forever.*
Farīdah Imām and I were looking into one another’s eyes very passionately.
Her beautiful nude Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān legs were around my nude Hindu male waist.
I was playing with her gorgeous ardent Musalmān buttocks.
“We can do now more than we did when Hindutv was not in power in India.” Farīdah Imām smiled.
“Let’s Narendr Modi start with Nawaz Sharif, Åbdullah Yāmīn, Ħāmid Karzaī etcetera affably. The region should come under peace once more.”
Al Farīdah Al Imām squeezed her vaginal muscles around my Uncut Hindu Lund.
“Don’t you think the Pseudo Musalmīn terrorists can try to destroy the glamour of the occasion?”
I felt the immense sexual bliss around my penis.
Al Farīdah Al Imām was expert in pleasuring me now tremendously.
Why couldn’t she?
She never married Nazīr Aħmad for him or herself even.
Moreover, she had expressed to everyone that actually she loved me, not Nazīr Aħmad extremely boldly.
If they didn’t like it, they should have objected at the very time when Al Farīdah Al Imām managed to sit on my lap openly for more than fifteen minutes even.
Yet, Saåīdah Anwar, Rashīd Aħmad, Nazīr Aħmad, no one objected then.*
We started with a run on our two treadmills.
Al Maimūnah Al kħālid’s industrial-strength sports bra didn’t completely restrain the bounce of her D-cup ardent Musalmān boobs.
She I loved me to watch them.
It was infuriating to her that I didn’t seem to notice.
Al Maimūnah Al kħālid’s big ardent Musalmān tits were a present from Al Shmasuddīn Al Saåīd, Al Maimūnah Al kħālid’s husband, for her thirtieth birthday.
She told him she didn’t want to go through her whole life with tiny A-cup boobs, and he was happy to pay for an ardent Musalmān boobs job.
At the time she was also becoming overweight, as thirty-year-old women generally tend to, if she doesn’t care especially.
She joined me in my morning workouts.
She said I was her inspiration.
Al Shmasuddīn Al Saåīd, Al Maimūnah Al kħālid’s husband, laughed on it.
“Okay, but I won’t guarantee you won’t fall in love with Dad. They call him Anant Muslimātchod Hindu.”
Al Maimūnah Al Kħālid felt her loyalty to her husband, her shauharparasī and her Īmān, both insulted.
As soon as Narendr Modī assumed office as the new Prime Minister Of India, Al Shmasuddīn Al Saåīd, Al Maimūnah Al kħālid’s husband, had started taunting her more.
No doubt, being thirty, a Jet Musalmān Beauty, Al Maimūnah Al Kħālid appreciated Narendr Modī very much.
But she wasn’t alone even in the Musalmān youth.
Four years of workouts sculpted Al Maimūnah Al kħālid into a sleek and strong specimen of feminine perfection with platinum blonde hair.
34D-24-34. 5’6″ tall.
Perky round luscious utmost voluptuous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān butt.
Perky round proud ever erect excellent Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān tits were high and firm, not that there’s anything wrong with that.
She closely resembled Nigār Sultānah, a heroine of yesteryears.
Google her and you’ll get the idea.
After running on the treadmills, we lifted free weights then finished with thirty minutes of yoga.
The yoga was Al Maimūnah Al Khalid’s idea.
I went along with it because it kept me flexible and it’s entertaining to watch her contort herself into all those poses.
When we were done, we cooled down for a few minutes on an old sofa in the basement.
“So, how are classes going?” I asked.
Al Maimūnah Al Kħālid was a college freshman at age 34.
She didn’t go to college at the normal age because she had her daughter to take care of.
My stepson, Al Shmasuddīn Al Saåīd, Al Maimūnah Al Kħālid’s husband, knocked her up when she was only 16 and he was 20.
Her daughter, Al Jihād fil Islam, was eighteen now and a senior in high school.
Al Shmasuddīn Al Saåīd, Al Maimūnah Al Kħālid’s husband, didn’t mind Al Maimūnah Al Kħālid going to college.
It amused him in fact.
Al Maimūnah Al Kħālid was kind of a bubble-headed blonde.
Not exactly the academic type.
Neither Al Shmasuddīn Al Saåīd, Al Maimūnah Al Kħālid’s husband, nor I could picture Al Maimūnah Al Kħālid in a college classroom, but she wanted it so we supported her 100%.
She was a great person despite being a bit ditzy.
Al Maimūnah Al Kħālid inherited money from her wealthy family, but Al Shmasuddīn Al Saåīd, Al Maimūnah Al Kħālid’s husband, was a banker and could afford to support them without dipping into Al Maimūnah Al Kħālid’s funds.
They had a good, prosperous life in Memphis, Tennessee.
Anyway, Al Maimūnah Al Kħālid’s face lit up and she replied, “College is great, Durgesh. I’m having so much fun!”
“Good. You’re fitting in?” I asked.
She had been worried about fitting in with the other college freshmen because she was so much older.
Al Maimūnah Al Kħālid giggled.
“Yep. I told them I’m 22 and they believe me! They think your old Al Maimūnah Al Kħālid is barely older than you are! Not bad, huh?”
I wasn’t really surprised.
She had a young-looking cute face with high cheekbones and dimples, and her body was probably the envy of every girl in her classroom.
“It’s because you keep yourself in great shape,” I complimented her.
“And I have you to thank for that, honey. You’re my inspiration,” she replied and kissed me on the cheek. “I wish your stepson, Al Shmasuddīn Al Saåīd, my husband, would work out with us.”
Al Shmasuddīn Al Saåīd, Al Maimūnah Al Kħālid’s husband, was a little older than Al Maimūnah Al Kħālid, 40, exactly 25 years younger than me.
Yet he was overweight.
He never paid attention to keep himself fittest as we both did.
I never left my Stavans, Mandrs, and Satrs.
Similarly, Al Maimūnah Al Kħālid never missed her Panjvaqtah Namāz.
Al Shmasuddīn Al Saåīd too never missed his Salawāt yet, he wasn’t fit nevertheless.
Al Maimūnah Al Kħālid teased her husband,
“Salawāt keep us Musalmān womankind fittest. You mankind need something more. Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånahā reincarnated says, if Taħannus, Stavan, Meditation, isn’t added, Salawāt actually femalize Musalmīn.”
“Nonsense, damn your Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and yourself too. Allah Allah. And you call her Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånahā reincarnated? You are crazy. Lāhaul vilā qūvat.”
As a loan officer at the bank, he spent too much time sitting behind a desk.
“Good luck getting him to exercise,” I said.
Al Shmasuddīn Al Saåīd, Al Maimūnah Al Kħālid’s husband, was a sedentary, inactive, sitting, kind of guy.
Al Maimūnah Al Kħālid sighed.
“I know, but I worry about his health.”
Then she brightened up and added,
“Speaking of your ever incompetent stepson Al Shmasuddīn Al Saåīd, my ever imperfect husband, a funny thing happened yesterday.”
“What?” I smiled.
Al Maimūnah Al Kħālid giggled.
“I told Al Ůzrah Al Vaqār that you’re my husband,” she said.
Al Ůzrah Al Vaqār was Al Maimūnah Al Kħālid’s best friend at college.
“What?! Why would you do that?”
“I didn’t mean to. It was an accident,” she replied and giggled again. “Al Ůzrah Al Vaqār knows I’m married, and when she saw your photo on my phone, she assumed that you’re my husband.”
“Why didn’t you correct her?” I asked.
Al Maimūnah Al Kħālid looked at me as if I was a dunce.
“Your ever incompetent stepson, Al Shmasuddīn Al Saåīd, Al Maimūnah Al Kħālid’s husband, isn’t very believable as the husband of a young college girl, Durgesh!”
That was true.
40-year-old overweight men with receding hairlines rarely are married to college freshmen.
“So you let her think your sixty five years old Hindu father in law is your husband?” I asked incredulously.
Al Maimūnah Al Kħālid grinned and nodded.
“Isn’t it brilliant? It really helps me fit in. Al Ůzrah Al Vaqār thinks you’re hot, by the way. She thinks you aren’t thirty five even.”
“Is she hot? You could set me up on a date with her,” I kidded.
Al Maimūnah Al Kħālid frowned.
“You’re supposed to be my husband, Durgesh.”
“Oh yeah,” I chuckled.
Al Maimūnah Al Kħālid seemed to be annoyed with my joke, but a couple minutes later she hesitantly said,
“Al Ůzrah Al Vaqār invited us to go to spring break with her and her boyfriend Shankar Mahāpralayankar.”
My jaw dropped. “What? You and me? Al Maimūnah Al Kħālid, I can’t go to spring break with you.”
She pouted and whined, “Why not? I really really want to go. I won’t embarrass you, I promise.”
“No, Al Maimūnah Al Kħālid. It’s too weird.”
“Please?” she begged. “I never got to do stuff like this when I was your age.”
She left it unspoken that she didn’t do stuff like that because she was taking care of her daughter.
Was it a sin that, she must not get it even now, if she could get it?
I felt the weight of guilt crushing me.
Maybe this wasn’t too much to ask.
Going on a vacation with her wasn’t too weird, was it?
Moreover, it would make her happy.
Al Maimūnah Al Kħālid deserved to be happy.
“Okay,” I agreed.
I was sure I’d regret it otherwise.
I never wanted to regret ever for anything whatsoever if it could be avoided somehow.
Al Maimūnah Al Kħālid squealed with delight and jumped into my arms.
“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! You’re the ever best father in law, Durgesh!” She kissed me on both cheeks and the tip of my nose.
“Don’t you mean best husband?” I teased.
“Yes. Best spring break Hindu hubby.” She kissed the tip of my nose again.
“Has Al Shmasuddīn Al Saåīd, your husband, agreed to this trip?”
“Not yet. I was hoping you’d help me convince him tonight.”
1. Bahoo Begum
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam