I’m not defeated even yet
My wife, my daughter’s Hindu boyfriend Durgesh, daughter and I were tired.
We had hiked all afternoon up the mountain, then set-up camp for the night.
My daughter’s Hindu boyfriend Durgesh and I made us a nice camp, well organized, as my wife and daughter prepared dinner.
It might’ve been freeze-dried and instant food, but we all knew it was going to taste like manna from heaven after the long, hard 16-mile trek.
And it did.
We had just finished eating.
We were relaxing in the relatively warm night air around the fire, feeling the ache in our muscles, when the rain came.
It was a cloudburst and forced us to scramble getting our perishables into the large family-sized tent.
The hard rain only lasted for ten minutes or so, but it was enough to soak us all to the bone.
By the time, we were in the tent and buttoned-up against the elements, the rain had died down to a soft pitter-pat on the tent.
It was too late, though, to suit us.
We were all cold, wet, and miserable.
“We need to get out of these wet things as soon as possible,” my wife said, “or we’re all going to catch our death of cold.”
“No argument from me,” I said and my daughter’s Hindu boyfriend Durgesh and daughter chimed-in with their agreement.
“Then let’s get started.” my wife said.
“Sure,” I agreed. “Let me help you put up the divider.”
My wife Almas Durrānī and I unraveled the fabric divider and hung it across the middle of the tent.
My daughter’s Hindu boyfriend Durgesh collected his ‘Ammī in law’ and ‘wife’’s backpacks, put them on the other side and spread out the sleeping bags while we worked.
My daughter Åāýéshah Muħammad, pretty much, just stood around and shivered while dripping a puddle on the floor near the door of the tent.
Durgesh couldn’t help but notice how her nipples stuck out underneath her wet T-shirt and bra.
It was written all over his handsome, yet full of his open Hindu lust for my extremely beautiful daughter, face.
These Hindus can never improve.
They want to fuck Musalmān Beauties always, irrespective of even the presence of their Ammī and Abbū.
However, I knew my daughter too.
She was a real looker: long blonde hair like silk, nicely rounded grown-up Musalmān breasts, a tiny waist, and a tight perky round Musalmān butt that just ached to be patted by Durgesh.
Once we had the divider up, the girls went underneath to their side.
They started to change, while Durgesh and I stayed on our side and did the same.
“Do you mind if we have the lantern, guys?” my wife asked, “It’s too dark over here to see what we’re doing.”
I picked it up and hoisted it over the divider and my wife took it.
She set it down, but it must’ve been against the far wall of the tent because the girls’ shadows fell across the divider.
I didn’t notice at first.
My daughter’s Hindu boyfriend Durgesh and I started to change out of our wet clothes.
I did notice, though, that when we both got down to our underwear, he turned away from me.
He wasn’t normally shy in front of me and I wasn’t shy in front of him either.
Then I noticed the shadows on the divider and saw the outline of my wife and daughter.
They were two naked Musalmān beauties.
It was like a soft-core porno flick of silhouettes just three feet from my daughter’s Hindu boyfriend Durgesh and me.
As I stared, I felt Durgesh starting to get hard and I hurriedly turned my back to my daughter’s Hindu boyfriend Durgesh as he had done to me.
These Hindus can never improve, I told myself.
They haven’t any taqvā in the matter at all.
I knew Durgesh very well.
He had no morals in the matter.
Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī was my own real sister.
Durgesh was her adopted son.
Yet, they were fucking each other now, openly, ever unashamed.
Imāmzādī Al Tauħīd Al Muħammad was one more so.
Rābiyah Altamash was one more so.
Al Waħīdah Al Waħāb was one more so.
One can easily understand how many ‘one more sos’ were there.
Apparently, Durgesh was their son, and they were his Ammīs.
Yet, he was fucking all of them, some of them secretly, but some of them even openly, entirely not ashamed of it, even the least.
It was his routine.
It was a normal relationship Durgesh had with his Ammīs (?).
Allah, mérī taubah!
Allah, mérī taubah!
And my own daughter, Åāýéshah Muħammad Qāzī, had chosen Durgesh her own boyfriend.
He had a vast record, with no repentance at all.
I quickly put it out of my mind, as it was not good for my own relations with my daughter, Åāýéshah Muħammad Qāzī.
I peeled my wet underwear off, and then put on my jogging pants and a T-shirt.
The dry clothing made me feel instantly warmer, but a chill was still deep in my bones.
“Hey, hon? Did you pack any liquor?”
Usually, we would take along some brandy or whiskey.
Liquid was difficult to haul in a pack, due to the weight, so we’d opt for the hard stuff…more punch for less weight.
It was handy to have if we needed it for first aid, but usually it served as a nightcap and a little touch of civilization on our backpacking trips.
“Yeah, you read my mind.” my wife replied, “It’s in the outside pocket of your pack.”
“Oh, thanks! Make me carry it, huh?”
“The only way to travel, my dear, Al Muħammad Al Qāzī!”
While I was chagrined at having been duped, I was grateful to my wife, Almas Durrānī, when I found four pints of whiskey tucked in around my socks and underwear.
“Wow. You weren’t fooling around. Planning a party or something?” I asked when I found it.
“Well, they forecasted this rain and I thought it’d be nice if we got caught in it. Help warm us up a bit, you know?”
“Us? You mean the kids, too?”
My daughter’s Hindu boyfriend Durgesh, just pulling his T-shirt on over his head, looked at me with eyes as big as quarters.
“Well, I guess a little wouldn’t hurt,” my wife, Almas Durrānī, said. “Do you think?”
“Sure, Dad,” Åāýéshah Muħammad Qāzī quickly added, “Durgesh and I are just as cold as you and Ammī. It’s only fair.”
I looked at my daughter, Åāýéshah Muħammad Qāzī’s Hindu boyfriend Durgesh and smiled, “OK. I guess we all deserve a little. It’s been kind of a tough hike so far. But you two be careful,” I said looking at Durgesh “I don’t want to be responsible for getting my own kids drunk. And I especially don’t wanting anyone getting sick.”
“We won’t dad,” Åāýéshah Muħammad Qāzīwhined from the other side of the divider.
I got a bottle out and buttoned up my pack.
As Durgesh turned around, he saw the silhouette of my naked daughter, Åāýéshah Muħammad Qāzī.
She was sticking out her chest and arching her back as she pulled her nightgown on over her head.
Durgesh glanced over at me and noticed I was staring too, but at my own wife, Almas Durrānī’s shadow.
Then I noticed Almas Durrānī’s image bent over her backpack, her large, naked Musalmān breasts shaking as she stuffed clothing down toward the bottom.
Durgesh was staring at her too.
Allah, I couldn’t blame Durgesh this time.
Only an impotent could control him.
Then why blame Durgesh?
This must be torture.
Then I became aware of my own growing erection and sat down before he noticed.
My movement must’ve distracted him because he quickly looked at me and smiled confidently, as he sat down across from me.
“Quite a show, huh?” I whispered.
“No kidding.” Durgesh smiled immediately without any hesitation at all.
I was astonished at his Hindu daring.
He was commenting to a Musalmān husband and Musalmān father that his Musalmān wife and Musalmān daughter were quite a show with their extremely enticing, extremely beautiful, Musalmān nudity.
He even didn’t try to be modest about it.
Why they are so horny?
Why they are so bold?
I just patted him on the arm and opened the bottle of whiskey.
“Here,” I told him, “You look like you need it, but just a little tiny sip.”
“Sorry, I never use wine.”
“What? Are you mad?” I looked at Durgesh incredulously.
“No.” Durgesh was still smiling, “Actually, I don’t want to be.”
“Wow. That burns.”
“Warms your insides, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Durgesh said smiling.
Then, I took the bottle and swallowed deeply.
Allah, it felt good.
The chill seemed to disappear and it was replaced with a warm, cozy feeling.
Åāýéshah Muħammad Qāzī, my daughter, came from underneath the divider to sit with us on our sleeping bags.
I handed her the bottle and admonished her not to take too much.
She, too, felt warmed, but didn’t quite like the taste.
Soon, Almas Durrānī, my wife, took down the divider and we had more room to spread out.
We were warmer now and fairly tired, so we took the opportunity to lay across our bags and talk as we drank our whiskey…enjoying the feel of our warm bed clothes and soft sleeping bags.
The kids seemed pretty chatty, an extremely rare occurrence for teenagers, and Almas Durrānī and I were loving it.
I could tell just by looking in her eyes that we were kind of re-discovering our children…or perhaps getting to know them for the first time as the adults they were so quickly becoming.
Either way, it was great and we were both enjoying their company.
Before we knew it, the bottle was empty and I relented to pleadings from everyone to break out another one.
I think we were all enjoying the time and didn’t want it to end.
We were also just starting to get warm enough to forget how cold we were earlier.
Then it seemed like no time when I got out the third bottle.
We were all having a great time passing the whiskey around and talking about everything and anything.
It was obvious the kids felt like adults and they seemed to be coming out of their shells.
I also wondered if maybe they were getting drunk.
Either way, though, it was great to have them be so open with us, a nice and welcome change, so neither Almas Durrānī nor I wanted it to end.
I guess that’s why I don’t even remember getting out the last bottle.
Then again, I guess Almas Durrānī and I were getting kind of lit too.
I eventually concluded that “lit” wasn’t the word for it.
The whiskey seemed to hit me all at once and I realized suddenly that I was three sheets to the wind, practically knockdown drunk.
As I watched Almas Durrānī talking, I realized she was close to blitzed, but doing pretty good hiding it from the kids.
Amazingly, though, I couldn’t tell if our kids were drunk.
Durgesh just jabbered away about college and Åāýéshah Muħammad Qāzī talked non-stop about her girlfriends and the latest trends they were into.
Then something Åāýéshah Muħammad Qāzī said caught my attention.
“No Ammī, I’m not that kind of pretty, I mean, the kind boys are really interested in. Durgesh is more than enough for me. He is a thousand, or even more, men, alone. I’m not enough to satisfy him. I always fail. And therefore, I always surrender and love him very much. I suggest you to try him.”
I was suddenly all-alert, despite my immense intoxication.
What was it happening?
My daughter was suggesting her Ammī, to try her Hindu boyfriend.
No fear that I’d slap her.
I couldn’t believe it was my own daughter.
“Of course you are.” Almas Durrānī, my wife, replied, “You’re a gorgeous Musalmān girl. I’m sure all the Hindu boys find you attractive. You have beautiful blue eyes, lovely hair, and a terrific figure. Don’t you think so, Al Muħammad Al Qāzī?”
Thankfully, I was listening.
“Yeah!” I said a little too quickly, “Jeez, Åāýéshah Muħammad. Get a clue. You’ve turned into a very sexy Musalmān girl and any Hindu boy that has you, should be damn grateful.”
“Oh, Abbū. You’re drunk.”
“That may be.” Everyone laughed as I laid down on my back and folded my hands underneath my head, “But I still think You’re one hell of a hot Musalmān babe.”
There was an awkward silence as Åāýéshah Muħammad Qāzī blushed and looked away.
I couldn’t help but notice her large, round Musalmān breasts heaving underneath her cotton nightgown as she breathed heavily.
I was right, Allah, damn it.
She was hot and there was no doubt about it.
Durgesh was lucky that he fucked her.
What if she was my daughter?
She had a Musalmān Cunt too, nevertheless.
My daughter should always get what she wanted.
After all, she was my daughter, Al Muħammad Al Qāzī’s.
“What about me?” Durgesh asked, “Musalmeen don’t like that Musalmān girls like me, do they?” he whined.
Yeah, my daughter, Åāýéshah Muħammad Qāzī’s Hindu boyfriend Durgesh was kinda drunk.
He was intoxicated with the nudity of two Musalmān Beauties.
But you gotta hand it to him.
He was not gonna be left out of the conversation.
He’d make his own way…even if he had to appeal to female pity.
“No baby,” his Ammī in law, my wife, Almas Durrānī, cooed, “Come here. Sit next to me you handsome Hindu devil. You need some lovings.”
Durgesh scooted over next to his Ammī in law and leaned into her outstretched arms.
I couldn’t help but notice he rested his Hindu face right on her nightgown-covered Musalmān breasts.
If I weren’t so drunk, I’d almost swear he smiled at me.
Perhaps telling me,
“Sālé, Musalmān, térī béŧī ko to main chod chukā. Ab aaj térī bīvī ko bhī chodkar dikha doonga, térī apnī ānkhon ké sāmné. Agar Vāqaī apnī Musalmān Ammī kā doodh piya hai, to mujhé rok kar dikha. I challenge you, impotent!”
More Creative Adult Sex in English from Durgesh
1. Bahoo Bégum
23. A secret Smile
30. Sālī, Ammījān!
44. Hell, I revolt
64. I live with him
73. Under Open Sky
79. The Extent
89. Ahl-Al Bayt 7
95. Ahl-Al Bayt 13
96. Ahl-Al Bayt 14
97. Ahl-Al Bayt 15
116. HVS law internationals : 4
117. HVS law internationals : 5
More creative adult sex in Hindi/Urdu from Durgesh:
13. Eidul Fitr-1
18. Main térī dīvānī
21. Majājī Kħudā: 1
22. Majājī Kħudā: 2
23. Majājī Kħudā:3
24. Majājī Kħudā:4
25. Majājī Kħudā: 5
26. Majājī Kħudā: 6
Science Fictions from DSM Satyarthi:
9. R’gved: Mandal 1| Sookt 19| Mantr 6
10. R’gved: Mandal 1| Sookt 19| Mantr 7
11. R’gved: Mandal 1| Sookt 19| Mantr 8
12.R’gved: Mandal 1| Sookt 19| Mantr 9
36. Saamved: Mantr 1
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