” … First we gotta get a newspaper so we can find a place to stay. Remember we talked about this last night?”
“Yes. Okay. Uh… Over there,” Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD said, looking about herself again and pointing across the street at the newspaper box there.
“Lead on, then,” I allowed, taking her suitcase and giving her that role in the hopes it would lift her spirits somehow.
It seemed to work a little.
I followed behind her as she marched across the sidewalk, her head held just a little higher, maybe with some remembered ‘parental’ responsibility.
She paid the box, took a newspaper and then led the way across another sidewalk and into the square.
There was a huge, two story gazebo in the center of the nicely mowed, grassy park area with paved walkways that were lined with benches, flower beds and some scattered shrubbery.
We sat near the gazebo, only the lightest Atlantic breeze ruffling the pages on that warm day in early August as she performed a focused search up and down the ‘apartments for rent’ columns, her gold colored Parker held in her perfect white teeth until she found something that looked as promising as her cash reserves could afford.
Before long, we were off again, both the newspaper and the map folded in her hands, her stride yet a little more purposeful, chin higher as I followed Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD, Muħammad’s Ammī, to a pay phone.
She briefly spoke to someone concerning the apartment before we went to look at what would hopefully be a roof over her head, at least for the time being, until I persuade her to take my financial help too as well as my courtesy help.
It was, but not much more.
“Hello, we just spoke on the phone?” Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD politely, if nervously told the Superintendent who greeted us outside the four story brick building on the corner.
Wisely using her maiden name to avoid any recognition the media had provided for, she introduced herself.
“I’m Āmnah Åbbās, this is my son in law, Durgesh.”
The Super was just about her height, maybe a half inch taller, stocky but not exactly fat with graying hair and somewhat dark complexion.
He was dressed in green work clothes and a red, sleeveless jack shirt, work boots looking like they were produced the same year as the approximately two hundred year old structure he maintained.
He looked us over, his pale, almost washed out blue eyes glancing over Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD’s body like those of the traffic accident victim had earlier. He smiled, stuck his meaty hand out and replied.
“Al Raħīm Al Åbbās, pleased to meet you. Sorry, I thought you were husband and wife. I can’t believe still now that he isn’t your husband.”
“What nonsense,” Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD said to him curtly, “he isn’t my husband. He is my daughters’ husband, I say.”
“Well,” Al Raħīm Al Åbbās watched us incredulously, “how old are you, Ma’am?”
“He has a computer screen open to him, Āmnah, I think it has information about us. Answer him truthfully. He is just checking.” I warned her.
Al Raħīm Al Åbbās smiled at me,
“Is your wife now angry with you, sir?”
Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD shouted,
“Hey, I’m not his wife, I say.”
“Ma’am, your information isn’t correct. Sorry, we can’t rent you the apartment. Sir, please explain to your wife.”
“What the hell,” Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD thundered at Al Raħīm Al Åbbās, “I say…”
I squeezed her hand significantly,
“It’s all right, darling. Please, let me talk.”
“No,” Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD said curtly, “how the hell he is calling me your wife?”
“Well, Ma’am,” Al Raħīm Al Åbbās said politely, “the computer says that your daughters refused to accept your new Hindu husband their stepfather. They were already in love with him. After you started to Live in relationship with your son in law…”
“He isn’t my son in law…” Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD shouted again, angrily.
Al Raħīm Al Åbbās smiled,
“Thank you. Now, please sign here and write under your signature, ‘Wife of Durgesh’, please,”
Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD looked at me furiously,
“You are watching? You are watching only? What the hell are you for, with me, if you can’t even rent for me an apartment?”
“It’s all right, Āmnah,” I circled my arm around her waist, pulled her to me and hugged, “Will you please just wait in the lobby or restaurant so that I complete the legal formality.”
“Very well. Please do.” She stomped her foot as an irate wife does to her polite husband, and marched out to the restaurant.
Al Raħīm Al Åbbās smiled.
“I sympathize with you, sir. What a temper? Allah Allah .”
“It’s alright. She pays on the bed for what she does elsewhere.” I smiled too.
“Oh, oh, oh,” Al Raħīm Al Åbbās laughed understandingly, “well, I must congratulate you, I think. She is tremendously beautiful.”
“I think Ma’am’s unique Musalmān beauty played a large role in accepting her too as your Live in relationship partner after her daughters.”
“I must say your information is very well provided. May I ask the source of your information?” I gave him a hundred dollar bill.
Al Raħīm Al Åbbās pocketed it gratefully smiling, and consulted the computer.
“Thank you very much, sir. The information is mostly provided by her ex-husband Mr. Saiyad Åbdullah Hāshmī. You are her second husband? Aren’t you?”
Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD suddenly returned there marching in, she hadn’t gone to lobby/restaurant perhaps.
Perhaps she was listening to our conversation standing outside and waiting for me.
“The bloody bastard,” she said, gritting through her teeth, “so he has told to the hoteliers and apartment owners that I’m your wife? Durgesh, I say…”
“Shut up, Āmnah,” I said curtly, “Keep quite. Let me talk. Well, come on and sign here as my wife.”*
She was furious, yet she knew she couldn’t do anything.
The more than one month longer Honeymoon of her with me, had given Saiyad Åbdullah Hāshmī the opportunity he needed to run away.
Well, now she knew Saiyad Åbdullah Hāshmī actually loved her very much.
Yes, now it has been proved that Saiyad Åbdullah Hāshmī was actually a criminal as the most of the other Musalmīn were.
But he provided her a new ever competent Hindu husband, Durgesh, before leaving her for ever.
He himself had taken Durgesh’s Uncut Hindu Penis between his thumb and forefinger and himself positioned it between her labial lips.
How crazy she was for even longer than one month!
Durgesh fucked her…
No, she herself fucked Durgesh madly.
She forgot absolutely that she had seven daughters too who are already Living in relationship with Durgesh.
How the hell could they face their friends and acquaintances if she also join their bed?
Allah, how selfish she was.
Yes, Durgesh fucked her marvelously.
That was what Durgesh is reputed for exclusively actually.
But she couldn’t enjoy the luxury.
She isn’t so lucky.
Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD has to think of her seven daughters too.
It wasn’t an apartment at all.
Not even close.
It was a room, approximately ten by ten feet.
Just as dingy as the stairs and hallway, there was a single, tall window directly opposite the door.
The plaster walls were painted an old, filthy yellow with royal blue trim.
On the right wall was a fireplace and mantle, a steel cover bolted securely over the opening that was covered in god knows how many layers of thick paint.
The left wall showcased a large area of missing plaster, tinder dry, horizontal slats showing like ribs.
There was no furniture and nothing at all sitting on the heavily scuffed and scratched hardwood floor, save for the plaster that had fallen from the wall, the only fixture being a naked bulb in the center of the twelve foot ceiling.
“This is it,” Al Raħīm Al Åbbās said, as though to casually confirm her worst fears, “sir, I can’t believe the Ma’am and you can live here.”
Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD smiled.
“We need a place for some time where none of the creditors of my former criminal husband can disturb us. My new husband is the multi zillionaire you know.”
“That’s the point, Ma’am. Your husband can provide you anything. But…”
“We are grateful to you, Durgesh, please give him some more money so that he can understand we are deliberately passing our night here as far as tonight is concerned.”
Al Raħīm Al Åbbās saluted her,
“If you want to establish that you both are here tonight, but actually want to enjoy your night at some five star hotel, even that can be arranged clandestinely.”
Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD looked at me.
“My dear husband,” she said sarcastically, “please tell him I want to be alone now with you. After all, a ‘wife’ has a right to be alone with her ‘husband’, hasn’t she?”
I looked at Al Raħīm Al Åbbās.
He saluted us immediately and left the room.
“The hell, Āmnah,” I said bitterly, “I would never allow you to live in this hell, even for a night.”
“Nonsense,” she said bitterly, “Don’t screw my self-respect now. You have already screwed me for more than one month. Isn’t that enough?”
My Uncut Hindu Lund immediately hardened as soon as she reminded me her Honeymoon with me.
Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD looked at my Hindu erection and she was suddenly horrified,
“No, Durgesh, no. Not any more.”
“Suck me.” I said gravely.
“No, I say,”
“Stop saying now and listen to me, you idiot. If you don’t want to be left alone here, in this hell, undress me, undress yourself and start giving me the blowjob you gave me when Saiyad Åbdullah Hāshmī was too present there, your then husband.”
She looked at me horrified,
“You…you can’t leave me here alone.”
“That’s right. Do what I tell you. After a nice fuck, we are going to the world tour immediately on our own ship.”
“No,” she tried to say, but I pulled her to me, undressed her, undressed myself, and kissed her immensely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt.
She tried to resist but her mouth involuntarily went to my Uncut Hindu Lund automatically.
Soon, she was giving me the blowjob I demanded for.
I kissed her entire nude body once more, her gorgeous nude Musalmān buttocks, her thighs, her…
She was bubbling with immense sexual lust now.
She herself pushed me on the floor on my back, straddled me on my rock hard perpendicular Uncut Hindu Lund, positioned it herself between her vaginal lips and thrust her now ravenous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot on it.
My Uncut Hindu Lund started penetrating her ardent Musalmān Choot once more.
Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD was thrusting again and again.
It entered, first the head only, then one fourth, then half, then three fourth, and then completely.
Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD bit her lower lip, and paused.
“Saiyad Åbdullah Hāshmī hasn’t fucked you properly.” I smiled, “Despite my Uncut Hindu Lund was there constantly nonstop for more than one month, pounding you, you still can’t take it in one go.”
She too smiled,
“He only had a cut Musalmān nūnī , you have a real Uncut Hindu Lund. Allah, let me digest the experience that it’s once more inside me.”
I was playing with her gorgeous nude Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān buttocks.
“You haven’t any moral right to enjoy it there. You didn’t want to fuck me. I compelled you.”
“Even then, you aren’t fucking me now, I’m fucking you once more.” She winked at me.
“Yes, that’s right, after all.” I smiled.
“Let me fuck you then as I damn please.”
“We have to leave this room as soon as possible.”
“It’s not for my any wife, especially as beautiful as you are.”
“Allah, am I really as beautiful as you say?”
“Sālī, my Uncut Hindu Lund is fully inside your Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot. Can’t you experience how violently it’s throbbing there?”*
She was brought on the ship still being fucked by me vigorously.
To her immense surprise, the ship was full of immensely beautiful nude Musalmān houseladies.
Every one of them was similarly on her nude knees and elbows as Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD herself was.
Moreover, I was fucking everyone of them from their exquisite nude behind, as I was fucking Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD.
“I know most of them personally. But I never knew they were also a part of your infinite Harem of us Musalmān Beauties and extremely beautiful Musalmān houseladies.”
“Not Harem, my Sex Empire.” I winked at her.*
Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD was trying her best to adjust herself to the new utmost high environment.
She was rich, even richer as compared to her so many friends, but hadn’t even dream of her new Hindu husband would be the number one richest man of the entire Multiverse.
It was a completely new experience for her.
As far as the Chaturang Shāshvat Maithunyog was concerned, it wasn’t too new for her.
She had already successfully practiced it for even more than one month.
After one month, she could think of her new problems to lead the new utmost highest life she couldn’t even dream of ever.
“We have to find out Saiyad Åbdullah Hāshmī, Durgesh.” Pushing back her ever glorious heavy big nude Musalmān buttocks Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD looked at me gravely. My entire throbbing Uncut Hindu Lund had vanished fully into her ever aggressive Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot, “The media is charging us both that we cheated on Saiyad Åbdullah Hāshmī. He could not show his face to his friends and acquaintances. We even snatched away his money from him.”
“Well,” I said fucking Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD savagely, “there’s no use speculating. Let’s get on deck. You said you have seen his glimpse right on our own ship. Let’s find out if your assumption is correct.”
Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD was enjoying the constant protection of my ever powerful nude Hindu male lap, every time when her nude gorgeous Musalmān buttocks filled it.
What a great shelter to her ever gorgeous Musalmān buttocks.
She had never felt so safe before.
Nothing to worry for any Musalmān Beauty and any extremely beautiful Musalmān houselady that was being fucked by Durgesh nonstop.
Her ever responsible Hindu life partner is always with her to take care of everything of her.
What the hell more, then, a woman needs from her man?
“You think we can still find him?” Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD constricted her vaginal muscles around the entire length and thickness of my deepest embedded Uncut Hindu Lund.
“I think so,” I kissed her on her lips warmly.
“Promise me to always stand by me.” She again pushed her gorgeous Musalmān buttocks into my lap.
“You still need my verbal promise? Isn’t my Uncut Hindu Lund constantly promising into your Musalmān Choot, ever pounding it nonstop, already, that it needs your Musalmān Choot around it for ever as your Musalmān Choot needs my Uncut Hindu Lund into it for ever?”
“Thank you.” She kissed me passionately, “Come on, let’s go.”
As she was opening the door, Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD suddenly gave a gasp of dismay.
I was already enjoying both of her utmost soft globes of joy filling my nude Hindu male lap and playing with her bare Musalmān tits.
I turned her mouth to me,
“Hey, why the gasp of dismay? What is it?”
“Saiyad Åbdullah Hāshmī,” she said, “as I had seen him, isn’t it possible that he had also seen me?”
“Well,” I said, “only a blind person can’t see you. You are the main center of attraction here on the ship, my lady.”
“Saiyad Åbdullah Hāshmī knew we were definitely having a showdown. He knew despite his loyalty to arrange you for me, he didn’t do anything good to me. He knew I had seen him on the ship. Moreover, the ship was now mine too. I too own it now with you. He knew he couldn’t keep up his pretenses any longer. He knew our entire daughters’ happiness depended… oh, Durgesh darling, you don’t suppose Saiyad Åbdullah Hāshmī went on deck and…and…”
“Committed suicide?” I prompted.
She nodded innocently.
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know.” She intensified her back and forth movements of her ever pink Musalmān buttocks, “I’m afraid…that would leave my daughters, your wives, in the clear. Wouldn’t it?”*
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Standing there in the Square, her features were as transparent as the bus shelter we stood beside, allowing me and anyone else who cared to look to see her fear and indecision.
This wasn’t Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD, Muħammad’s Ammī, and even I knew that she needed to be her old, strong, sometimes incredibly bitchy self if we were ever going to make it.
“Āmnah,” I said, getting her to focus on me. “Here, give me your suitcase, you take the map.”
Pretending to take care of her, I put my right palm actually on her ever gorgeous ever Panjvaqtah Namāzī big heavy Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān buttocks.
“Why? Where are we going?” she pretended she didn’t notice it.
Was it possible?
In fact, her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān eyes brightened as soon as she felt my Hindu male palm there on her ever gorgeous ever sexiest ardent Musalmān buttocks.
She loved my palm there.
Allah, go ahead, Durgesh.
You are putting your palm there for so long time.
Now play with them, please!*
No, Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD didn’t say it in so many words.
Her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān face was still wooden grave.
But her eyes were smiling and appreciating my palm there.
They were also mischievous somewhat.
Saiyad Åbdullah Hāshmī had never satisfied her.
She had always imagined, I myself was there, instead of her husband Saiyad Åbdullah Hāshmī.
The moron thought she was Ħazrat Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah, Ħazrat Āmnah bint Wahb, Ummil Ħuzūr sallallāhu ålayhi wa sallam.
Only, because she was named after her, in her honor.
Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD could never understand why the hell the most of the Musalmīn were so utmost irrationally prone to blasphemy.
Were not they the ever finickiest persons in the entire human history?
They thought almost every second thing were blasphemy.
Saiyad Åbdullah Hāshmī was too such a finicky Musalmān.
He thought entirely irrationally that he wasn’t fucking his wife who was named after Ħazrat Āmnah bint Wahb, Ummil Ħuzūr sallallāhu ålayhi wa sallam, in her honor, he thought he fucked Ħazrat Āmnah bint Wahb, Ummil Ħuzūr sallallāhu ålayhi wa sallam herself.
“Nonsense,” Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD smiled at him, “you idiot, how can you? She has even died before fourteen centuries already. Come on, I’m your wife.”
Saiyad Åbdullah Hāshmī wasn’t sure of himself now,
“Allow me to divorce you, Āmnah.”
Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD fell from sky.
“What? Why the hell? Am I not beautiful? Am I unfaithful?”
“Certainly not, certainly not. Because I can’t fuck you.” Saiyad Åbdullah Hāshmī said.
Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD smiled,
“But you are fucking me. We have so many beautiful daughters of us. Haven’t we?”
“Yes, but I feel immensely blasphemous and guilty always whenever I fuck you. Why the hell you too can’t fuck Durgesh as your friends, sisters and your cousins do?”
Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD was dumbfounded.
She stared at her so long years husband in utter disbelief.
He wanted her, his own wife, the mother of his daughters, to fuck Durgesh, their Hindu son in law.
Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD couldn’t believe it.*
Actually it was not only blasphemy Saiyad Åbdullah Hāshmī was afraid of.
Of course, it played ninety five percent role behind his so drastic a decision.
But five percent, he had another reason too.
He had noticed Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD herself was craving for Durgesh.
She never behaved with Durgesh as a mother in law should do.
She always behaved with Durgesh as if she was Durgesh’s actual wife and her daughters were allowed to have Live in relationship with Durgesh because Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD wanted it to be so.
Durgesh had also noticed it.
And consequently, under the pretense that he was not her son in law but her son himself instead, he embraced, hugged, kissed, teased and played with Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD as her real son could have.
Once Durgesh pushed Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD back on their bed.
Saiyad Åbdullah Hāshmī was also there.
Durgesh and Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD were laughing and teasing each other, as if it a platonic relationship only they were maintaining.
But Saiyad Åbdullah Hāshmī had noticed Durgesh had a great heavy Hindu erection for Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD.
Durgesh’s right Hindu palm was every now and then on her great big heavy buttocks and her own palm was every now and then on Durgesh’s heavy Hindu erection for her.
Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD was even grabbing Durgesh’s Uncut Hindu Lund every now and then under this or that pretext.
Durgesh too was caressing, playing and squeezing her buttocks as if accidentally.
But accidents never happen constantly nonstop.
Pretending it was only a platonic relationship, actually Durgesh and Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD, both were enjoying foreplay with each other.*
Suddenly, Saiyad Åbdullah Hāshmī himself was startled.
In her too passionate a moment, Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD suddenly unzipped me.
I smiled at her lovingly.
Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD brought out my Uncut Hindu Lund and started playing with it passionately.
I kissed Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD on her beautiful red crimson lips.
Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD returned my kiss still playing with my Uncut Hindu Lund ravenously.
I started to undress her.
She started to undress me.
Soon, we both were stark naked.
Saiyad Åbdullah Hāshmī smiled cunningly.
Allah, God, thank you, ultimately the inevitable is happening.
He couldn’t live in constant nonstop guilt and blasphemy any more.
Let them fuck each other and leave Saiyad Åbdullah Hāshmī alone.
No more guilt, no more blasphemy any longer.
We both were kissing each other’s nude body now madly.
We were not mother in law and son in law any more.
We were lovers.
She bent on her knees and kissed my Uncut Hindu Penis.
I kissed her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot in return.
She licked my Uncut Hindu Penis and then swallowed it into her beautiful mouth.
Her husband was witnessing a great blowjob now his wife was giving me wildly, passionately, nonstop.
Ultimately, I lifted her on my strong Hindu arms and moved to the great king sized bed, Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD and Saiyad Åbdullah Hāshmī were sleeping on, since they married.
I put her excellent exquisite nude body on the bed on her back.
She suddenly rose and in her wild passion, kissed me on my nude buttocks.
I returned the gesture myself and kissed her gorgeous nude buttocks too.
The mutual kissing of each other’s nude body again started.
Then she herself lied on her back on the bed, spread her beautiful legs inviting me between them.
She was smiling at me now.
Saiyad Åbdullah Hāshmī smiled too, advanced to us and said curtly,
“Stop you both infidels, you can’t make love to each other without my specific permission. After all, she is my wife.”
“Go to hell,” Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD laughed, “We damn care now.”
“I can’t.” Saiyad Åbdullah Hāshmī laughed himself, “I want to witness the greatest lovemaking between an Ammī in law and her Hindu son in law.”
“Nonsense,” Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD admonished her Musalmān husband, “I allowed my daughters to Live in relationship with him, only to keep him with me in my own home. Durgesh isn’t my son in law actually. He is my lover.”
Saiyad Åbdullah Hāshmī looked at me.
“Well, Durgesh,” he smiled, “she thinks it’s a news to us. It certainly is not. You never behaved with Durgesh as his mother in law. You always behaved with him as if you are his duly married wife.”
“Thank you.” Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD smiled at her Musalmān husband.
“And,” Saiyad Åbdullah Hāshmī took me between his wife’s spread inviting legs, held my rock hard Uncut Hindu Lund between his thumb and forefinger, positioned it between her quivering pink vaginal lips and pushed my buttocks for me to enter her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot, “here is the permission.”
Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD smiled her thanks,
“Thank you my dear husband, I reward you now for your permission. You are respectfully invited, if you please, for our permanent threesome.”
Saiyad Åbdullah Hāshmī bowed to his waist gratefully,
“I’m honored, Ma’am. Thank you very much.”
I entered Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD and started to fuck her wildly, savagely and most passionately.
She herself started to respond my every powerful Hindu thrust with her more powerful ardent Musalmān thrust.
Saiyad Åbdullah Hāshmī was too enjoying the show.
We fucked, and fucked and fucked.
It lasted to even more than a month nonstop.
None could have anticipated, Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD could call it an accident.
But that was what she called it after we fucked each other to our heart’s content.
Saiyad Åbdullah Hāshmī was dumbfounded once more.
He watched his wife, open mouthed, still lying under me, still entwined with me, my Uncut Hindu Lund still embedded fully into her ever tight Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot.
“I’ll be damned.” Saiyad Åbdullah Hāshmī announced ultimately.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
I ordered Muħammad to sit and watch us, while I fucked Muħammad’s wife in his own bedroom.
“We’ll be done in a couple of hours, and I expect it to be written after that.” I smiled at him fucking his wife.
I hated to cuckold any one.
But Kħadījah was adamant to cuckold Muħammad.
“He is not any Ħuzūr sallallāhu ålayhi wa sallam.” Kħadījah constricted her vaginal muscles around the entire length and thickness of my unique legendary Uncut Hindu Lund, furiously, “Neither I am any Ummil Mominīnīn Ħazrat Kħadījah Al Tāhirah razī Allāhu tålā ånahā. We are only named after them. Why the hell your ever adept ever infinite Hindu lust to fuck us Musalmān Beauties and us awfully lovely Musalmān houseladies perfectly, suddenly starts to diminish whenever you fuck any Musalmān houselady who is named after some Ummil Mominīnīn or Binnāt-e-Tāhirāt? It’s not blasphemy to fuck them. After all, they too have cunts. They need a competent Uncut Hindu Lund into them. You are NOT disgracing the entire Musalmān community by fucking them, as the idiots Pseudo Musalmīn claim notoriously. What the hell they want to say? If you won’t fuck us, none would? And it wouldn’t be any blasphemy if someone else would fuck us?”
I wanted to pull out my Uncut Hindu Lund to push in back again, but Kħadījah wrapped her thighs around my waist.
“Please, not now,”
“Muħammad could never fill me as you always do.”
Muħammad smiled too.
“I’m not Durgesh, Kħadījah, neither I can ever be. Just enjoy him, and forget me.”
“I think, Kħadījah,” I said gravely, keeping my Uncut Hindu Lund into her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt fully embedded, “it was also a matter of blasphemy for him.”
Muħammad beamed suddenly,
“That’s right. You have pointed it exactly. How the hell did you know? I’ve never told it to anyone. It’s my closely guarded secret I wanted to die with.”
“What is secret there? Most of the Musalmīn are too afraid of blasphemy. They can’t fuck any woman who is named after some Ummil Mominīnīn or Binnāt-e-Tāhirāt. They are just horrified. According to Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s recent survey most of the Musalmīn who are losing their manly vigor with their ever competent Musalmān wives are the husbands of the Musalmān houseladies that are named after some Ummil Mominīnīn or Binnāt-e-Tāhirāt. They are even afraid of divorcing or cheating them. They resort to masturbating consequently. Among Durgesh’s Musalmān Live in relationship partners, most of them are named after some Ummil Mominīnīn or Binnāt-e-Tāhirāt. Even among the other Musalmān houseladies who are not as lucky as to get Durgesh to get satisfied sexually optimum, and forced to have extramarital relations with other competent Hindus therefore, most of the Musalmān houseladies are named after some Ummil Mominīnīn or Binnāt-e-Tāhirāt.”*
There I was, receiving my trophy once more with honors and championship standing on the love makers team.
Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD, Muħammad’s Ammī, smiling proudly from the fleet of chairs in the huge Stadium and pointing the camcorder at me, waving as I smiled back at her.
That was no surprise.
After my own Ammī Ħuzūr and Imāmzādī Ħumayrah Qāzī, Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD’s
Gestapo like dedication to my championship was hugely responsible for my trophy.
But the empty chair beside her was a surprise to her, alright.
Saiyad Åbdullāh Hāshmī wasn’t the best father in law in the world, nor the best husband going by some of Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD, Muħammad’s Ammī’s shouted accusations the past few years, but this was way beneath even his style.
I figured there was a good reason.
I was right.
The day after, after the prom and the ensuing party with my friends that ended with me screwing the hell out of my awfully stunning Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān girlfriends, Al Fātimah Al Zohrah etcetera, in the back of my Hummer, my surprise was deepened.
I woke up and came down for breakfast, being told then by Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD that there was still no word from him.
Muħammad had already left the home in protest of me fucking one by one every extraordinary beautiful Musalmān houselady, not only living there, but even came there any time.
“I am not Muħammad Åbdullah.” Muħammad Saiyad Åbdullāh Hāshmī flared, “My sisters are not either nudists or feminists.”
“But they are adults.” Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD said curtly to her only son.
“Ammī,” Muħammad was angrier now, “Do you also enjoy Durgesh’s unique legendary Hindu sex kicks as most of our other friends’ Ammīs do? Are even you not loyal to Abbū?”
Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD slapped Muħammad.
Muħammad marched out of there in immense wrath.
I stayed home and, using the phone, excused myself from the day’s planned activities with my subordinates to wait and experience a new kind of worrying with her.
At three o’clock, Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD called his office and that’s when they got to be surprised because, as far as they knew, he’d been on vacation for a week.
Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD didn’t explain before she thanked them and hung up, turning to stare at me with a blank expression before she told me what they’d said.
It wasn’t as if Saiyad Åbdullāh Hāshmī wasn’t always gone, but when he did leave on his frequent business trips, he usually let us know, even if it was his secretary calling from the office after he’d already left for the airport.
This was different.
He’d missed my trophy without so much as a message, but beyond that it just felt different.
Looking back, I may have just been reacting to how Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD seemed about it.
Two detectives visited us the very next day.
We feared the worst, as anybody would, my first experience in the true art of fretting coming to a head as Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD invited them in.
Well, we couldn’t have imagined what they’d tell us.
We both just sat there, stunned and speechless at the news that dear ol’ Dad had disappeared, presumably having fled the country, just ahead of a lot of “very serious fraud charges”.
They also informed us that we were now being investigated in order to ascertain whether or not we were involved.
Just over a month later, by the time the Vancouver Police and the RCMP were done with us, we realized that the term, “very serious fraud charges”, was a terrific understatement.
If there was any doubt, it was cleared up as we stood in front of what was once her beautiful home while watching the locksmith change the locks on the front door.
We each had a suitcase, the clothes on our backs and one thousand Dollars Cash that Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD had stashed somewhere in the house in case of emergency.
This seemed to qualify, alright.
At the time, I could only Mumble, “Fuck.”
She didn’t even bother to give me flack for my language.
She was too worried to pay any attention to it.*
Soon I was actually stepping off a city bus with Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD, Muħammad’s Ammī, at a place called King Square in the Maritime city of Saint John, clear across the country from where we started.
She refused to have any financial help from me.
I argued with her immensely.
Yet, Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD was adamant.
She said I should not ‘screw’, yes this was the word she used involuntarily, I should not ‘screw’ her self respect.
I decided to wait and explain its urgency once again at a more suitable time, but as soon as it was possible.
Sālī didn’t think I owed even something in return for what she had done for me.
She had even left her only son to support my twenty four hours sex sessions with Muħammad’s tremendously lovely Musalmān houseladies.
She argued we all were adults.
Muħammad didn’t have any right to object on our consensual sex sessions even however kinkiest they may be.
I felt sorry for her, for her negative thinking at least, standing there in her slightly snug, black casual slacks and light purple pullover with a short V-neck.
She never looked her age, sometimes appearing as much as ten years younger with long blonde hair, hazel eyes and six inches shorter than me.
Both of us were feeling three feet shorter after the public nightmare we’d just somehow survived.
There was really no resemblance to the people we were just over a month ago.
I could have settled it all but her son Muħammad had commented to the media,
“I don’t think my Ammī has anything to do with it. The fraud charges against my Abbū are baseless. Abbū saw Durgesh fucking my Ammī. He could not bear it. He left the house. I myself similarly did it because I could not to watch my friend, Durgesh, fucking my entire beautiful Musalmān houseladies.”
The media asked the question,
“Are you worried for the future of your Ammī?”
“Are you crazy? Durgesh is the multi zillionaire. My Ammī is nympho maniac. She herself encouraged our every beautiful Musalmān houselady to seduce Durgesh, so that Durgesh would never leave the house. My Ammī is prudent enough to secure her future with Durgesh. I am worrying instead about your future.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you keep asking such insulting questions to my Ammī and Durgesh, Durgesh would see that your future must be taken care of not to be secured even a bit. Allah Miyan and Durgesh are almighties. Both when destroy their enemies, no one can even surmise it.”
Saiyadah Āmnah Åbdullah PhD refused to sign the papers for defamation of character against her only son.
She looked around herself, both hands protectively clutching her suitcase to her thighs as a man who looked like he’d just been thrice run over by a car ambled by, looking at her large boobs and soft, curvy heavy big hips.
I was worried for both of us, but more for her.
She really didn’t seem to be adjusting since that day we watched the locksmith at work.
When Saiyad Åbdullāh Hāshmī was gone at work, away on a business trip or whatever, there was never any doubt as to who was in charge and I never once ever heard her say anything alike,
“You just wait ’till your father in law gets home!”
She never felt there was any need for waiting.*
Last evening my friend Muħammad’s wife came into the den and informed Muħammad that she had discovered his collection of Penthouse letters magazine.
She was very upset and questioned why Muħammad needed outside stimulation.
Zaynab wanted to know what exactly was the turn-on that the stories provided.
Muħammad was too surprised to lie.
He immediately told her that he gets a real kick out of the Musalmīn sharing their Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān wives with Durgesh/Some Hindu(s) stories.
In fact, Muħammad found them extremely erotic.
Zaynab was shocked,
“Allah, Muħammad, you mean…you mean if I fuck Durgesh you’d love me more?”
Muħammad looked at her gravely.
“My Ammī, Āmnah Åbdullah does it for me. My Kħālās do it for me. My Buās do it for me. My Mumānīs, my Chachīs do it for me, why the hell can’t you? Aren’t you my wife?”
Zaynab was dumbfounded.
“Your entire Musalmān houseladies do it for you? Allah, I can’t believe it.”
Muħammad softened somewhat,
“Well, I should have told you it before we married. I am sorry.”
“Well, I didn’t mean it, but…”
“I am not brought up normally, as the other Musalmīn are.”
Zaynab looked at her husband,
“I could not understand.”
“My Abbū was a terrorist.”
“Durgesh fucked my Ammī in front of my Abbū. Kħadījah Muħammad cuckolded him to my Ammī and Durgesh. She made my Abbū to hold Durgesh’s Uncut Hindu Lund and position it between my Ammī’s Pussy lips. He was compelled to request Durgesh to fuck my Ammī, because he couldn’t fuck his wife. He was a terrorist and every terrorist is impotent.”
“I see.” Zaynab said gravely.
“My Abbū was made to clean my Ammī’s ardent Musalmān Cunt and ass licking them, after Durgesh fucked them. I was too small to understand it was a punishment to my Abbū. I thought it was natural. I too licked my Ammī’s Musalmān Cunt and ass.”
“Allah,” Zaynab said, “Allah!”
“Once my cut Musalmān nūnī got an erection involuntarily. My Ammī hit me there in wrath. It never gets any erection now.”
“What?” Zaynab almost jumped.
“That’s why I always use my fingers and tongue to satisfy you. Even in our Golden night, I didn’t enter you, because I couldn’t. I can’t ever. Sorry.”
Muħammad’s eyes were suddenly full of tears.
Zaynab was startled.
She could never believe, it was true.
She let Muħammad weep as much as he did.
She could not help Muħammad.
She had no alternative.*
Ultimately, Zaynab decided to read some of the stories before passing her own judgment.
Muħammad went out in the garage and found an issue about a Musalmān that had his Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān wife fuck Durgesh then come home and tell him about it while he licked her Musalmān Cunt and ass.
“Is this what you need?” Zaynab asked Muħammad.
“That’s what I need.” Muħammad said gravely, “uh, yes”
“What if I did it, would that turn you on?”
“I don’t think so, but I can enjoy licking your Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt and ass after that.”, Muħammad was getting hard as they discussed it.
Muħammad was himself surprised incredibly.
“I don’t think you would like it if I were really going to do it.” Zaynab said, but suddenly she saw Muħammad having an erection.
“Allah, Oh, my God, Muħammad, you’re getting hard, aren’t you?”
Muħammad couldn’t hide it.
His cut Musalmān nūnī was as stiff as a board.
“OK buddy, let’s discuss this in the bedroom.”*
Muħammad’s wife, Zaynab, was drop dead gorgeous.
She is 28 years old, long brown hair, an absolutely beautiful face and a body to kill for.
She looked even 10 years younger than she was, Just Eighteen Just Adult, and had no trouble attracting me.
She also knew that she was desirable because other I was always commenting to her about her qualities.
Zaynab and Muħammad went up to Zaynab and Muħammad’s bedroom.
Zaynab turned to Muħammad and said,
“So, you want me to fuck Durgesh and bring Durgesh’s Hindu cum filled my Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt home for you. Is that what you are saying?”
“Well, yes, I guess.”
“Do you know what you’re asking. That could really screw up our marriage. I’ve never cheated on you and I don’t plan to start now.”
“It isn’t cheating if we both agree to it.”
“Are you telling me that you want me to go out, fuck Durgesh and allow him to cum in my Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt, what if I get pregnant?”
“It’s a chance we’d have to take.” Muħammad said gravely, “Moreover, most of the Musalmīn now, are having actually Durgesh’s sons from their Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān wives and call them their own sons. Why can’t we do it, too?”
“You’re Okay with that? What if I like Durgesh myself very much and want to continue.”
“As long as you don’t cut me off, it would be exciting.”
“Allah, I can’t believe it ever, Muħammad. It must be a nightmare, I say.”
“Nonsense, it’s the truth.” Muħammad said gravely,aggressively even strongly, “The cold and hard truth. I was not brought up normally. I told you.”
“Okay. It’s alright, if you say so. Let me get this straight. You want me to go fuck Durgesh, come home to you with his Hindu cum still inside my Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt so you can lick me and feel my used Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt while I tell you about Durgesh’s and my fuck sessions.”
“Yeah, I find it very erotic.”
“Just remember, you asked for it.”
This morning after breakfast Zaynab inquired,
“Have you changed your mind yet, or, am I free to fuck Durgesh today?”
“Go for it,” was all Muħammad could say.
She left for ‘work’ dressed to kill.
Muħammad got home from work around 5 PM as usual but Zaynab wasn’t home yet, which was rather odd, because she got off at 3:30 and usually beat Muħammad home.
About 5:30 she called from her cell phone and told Muħammad,
“Honey, don’t wait up for me, I’m going to fulfill your fantasy tonight, I’ll wake you and tell you about it when I get there. Muħammad, I will be very wet and full of Durgesh’s Hindu cum, you better not be upset because it was your idea.”
Muħammad ate dinner and watched TV until 11 PM.
Muħammad couldn’t get the thought of her fucking Durgesh out of his mind.
He kept thinking about jacking off but Muħammad wanted to be fully loaded for her when she came home.
May be he could too fuck Zaynab, his own wife, after licking her Durgesh’s Hindu cum filled Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt and ass.
Muħammad resisted the urge.
He finally went to bed.
At 1:25 Zaynab got home.
Muħammad remembered hearing her car pull in the drive.
Shortly thereafter, Muħammad heard her come in the house.
Zaynab worked her way to Zaynab and Muħammad’s bedroom and switched on the lamp next to her side of the bed.
With that she reached over and patted Muħammad on the shoulder.
“Come on, you can’t be asleep knowing what I have been doing. Look at your well used Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān wife. I have Durgesh’s Hindu cum in my Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt, I also have it in my mouth and in my absolutely gorgeous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass. Is this what you wanted?”
With that she spread her legs and placed Muħammad’s hand on her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt.
“Durgesh came inside me”, Zaynab smiled proudly, “And, he came a lot all the three times.”
She smeared my Hindu cum on Muħammad’s hand as she crawled across him and placed her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt above Muħammad’s ever ravenous open Musalmān mouth.
“Would you like to feel my wet, fucked Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt?” she asked as she lowered herself down his mouth.
She felt so warm and slippery that Muħammad could barely feel her.
“Durgesh’s Uncut Hindu Lund is bigger than yours,” Zaynab winked at Muħammad, “it really filled my Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt. I loved it when he came inside me, Muħammad, I could feel it pulsing and squirting, it was fantastic. I rode Durgesh bareback so you could have me still wet. I just hope you like it because if I get pregnant you will have to claim the baby. You will be a cuckold and you will know it.”
Muħammad was licking her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt as passionately as he had in years. Muħammad could feel my Hindu cum filling his mouth, throat and stomach ultimately as he licked and tongue fucked his extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān wife, Zaynab.
“So, do you like my used Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt,” she inquired. “I hope so because I plan to fuck Durgesh regularly in the future. It really was fun to feel Durgesh’s legendary unique Uncut Hindu Lund into my Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot and into my gorgeous Musalmān ass too. I think I’m going to love doing it for you very very much quite often.”
Muħammad erupted with the best orgasm of his life as she said that.
Afterward, they talked.
Zaynab and Muħammad both agreed that this was definitely an erotic experience that they both enjoyed tremendously.
Now Zaynab was free to fuck me whenever she desired as long as she shared it with Muħammad afterward.
According to Muħammad, if you’ve never tried this lifestyle, you don’t know what the hell you’re missing. It is most definitely a turn-on to have your Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān wife fuck Durgesh and you lick her well fucked Musalmān Cunt after it. There is nothing as fulfilling as licking your Musalmān wife’s ardent Musalmān Cunt, a freshly fucked Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt.
Well, that’s what Muħammad thinks.
You are free to disagree with him if you do.
Muħammad would never mind it.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam