The Everbest Wives
Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr sat at the kitchen table thinking about how the last three weeks have been since Durgesh moved back home after her father in law deserted her entire four extremely beautiful mothers in law.
“They are trying to cuckold me to themselves and their Anant Muslimātchod Hindu lover Durgesh.” Muħammad Zahūr had charged them.
“The ever impotent has run away ultimately from his marital duties.” Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr’s mothers in law told to the Press in their joint Press Conference.
Cuckolding the Musalmān husbands to their Hindu lover and themselves wasn’t any crime/evil in Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan herself was running her ever ambitious Cuckold Your Musalmān Husband Movement, proudly aggressively.
Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr just had the sense that there was a sexual tension building between us and although in one way it troubled her, it excited her in ways Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr just could not understand yet.
Deciding to see if it was just her imagination or was there really something going on, Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr thought maybe she could see for herself if Durgesh was feeling the same way.
Hearing me working out down stairs, Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr tried to think of a way to see if I might be having the same sexual feelings about her as well.
I curled the weights as my mind drifted about seeing my Bahū Bégum, Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr, in those skintight jeans that she seemed to be wearing more and more lately.
As I considered that Bahū Bégum, Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr, might be doing it on purpose, I felt my Anant Muslimātchod unique legendary Uncut Hindu Lund get rock hard just picturing her tight little Musalmān ass in my mind.
At night, I would manage fucking the Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān women who resembled her.
Was it only a coincidence?
Didn’t Durgesh hope Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr would come in some night and catch me?
Finally, Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr heard me coming up the stairs.
Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr leaned against the wall holding the curtain rod in her hand, waiting for me, her new father in law, to come into the room.
Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr spread her legs and arched her gorgeous Musalmān butt up in the air.
Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr could feel her heart racing and all misgivings Bahū Bégum, Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr, might have had were being over ruled by the throbbing between her legs.
“Dad, could you help me for a minute.” She yelled out to me.
I rounded the corner and could not believe what I was looking at.
There was my ‘Bahū Bégum’, Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr, with her gorgeous Musalmān butt arched up and I swore I could see her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot outlined in her jeans.
I felt my Anant Muslimātchod unique legendary Uncut Hindu Lund get rigid.
I hoped Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr would not turn around and catch me in this position.
She was already trying to seduce me desperately.
Seeing I too was erect for her would definitely enhance her efforts to get me sexually.
Here in Everbest Wives Creations, incest was a virtue not any evil at all.
The citizens of the Everbest Wives Creations had legally free sex rights almost.
It was considered the ultimate love and intimacy between a father in law and daughter in law that was highly respected, praised, admired and honored even publicly if they have sex too mutually.
“Unfulfilled sexual desires always bring jealousy, hatred, conspiracies and gradual destruction in an otherwise excellent family. The Everbest Wives Creations are principally against such stupidities.” The everywhere respected leaders of the Everbest Wives Creations said.
“How can I help you?” I asked courteously.
“Just come behind me and hold the rod while I slide the curtains down to the other side.” My Bahū Bégum, Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr, said respectfully feigning innocence even.
Apprehensively, I came up behind her, feverishly trying to think of thoughts that would kill my erection.
Feeling like I was almost safe, I felt my Bahū Bégum, Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr’s excellent gorgeous glamorous perfectly round heavy buttocked Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass pushing back into my Hindu male groin.
Almost instantly, my Anant Muslimātchod unique legendary Uncut Hindu Lund sprang back to being rock hard again.
I knew Bahū Bégum, Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr, must have felt it too.
Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr could feel my Anant Muslimātchod unique legendary Uncut Hindu Lund right through her jeans. She new Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr was soaking between her legs as well.
Part of her was afraid but another was like an animal in heat.
Now Bahū Bégum, Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr, knew despite my ever-righteous attitude, actually both of us were having the same feelings.
She smiled triumphantly.
She was the President of Al Jihād fil Durgesh fī sabīlillah here, in Everbest Wives Creations.
They were determined to manage me to surrender to incest practically as much as it was possible for them.
They wanted me to fuck my every Musalmān Bahū Bégum, etcetera forever.
It was a challenge for them that I was still against incest so much.
“Well, if you’re done working out, I think I’ll go next.” My Bahū Bégum, Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr, said to me.
Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr pulled on her sheer black leotards and looked in the mirror.
At forty-one, my Bahū Bégum, Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr, still had a great figure, a little on the slim side Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr told herself but better than being over weight.
With her curly brown hair and slight frame, Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr could easily pass for her early thirties.
Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr looked at the shorts and T-shirt Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr always wore over her leotards and the thought all of a sudden crossed her mind not to wear them and just go out in the living room where I was and let me see her almost naked.
Looking in the mirror again, Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr could see her nipples sticking out and her crotch clearly showed the outline of her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot.
Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr shivered with excitement trying to decide if she had the courage to be so daring.
My Bahū Bégum, Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr, slid her fingers between her legs and just stroking herself slightly brought her the answer Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr was looking for.
I was lying down on the couch thinking about what just happened with my Bahū Bégum, Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr.
She had to feel me between her buttocks and yet she did not get mad or act disgusted
. If anything, Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr acted as though Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr was enjoying it.
Maybe Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr was just teasing me, I thought.
She could humiliate me if I did anything myself for my ever righteous attitude toward Incest.
Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr could then easily claim practically I myself love incest despite my official antagonism to it.
I knew Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr was probably putting on her black leotards and that long T-shirt.
How many times I wished I could see her without it.
I even hoped one day it would happen, whether I like it or not.
Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr walked out of her room and took a deep breath before going into the living room.
Was this all going too far Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr asked herself.
However, the throbbing between her legs gave her the answer she needed.
She felt as though Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr was on the verge of climax if Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr just even stroked herself softly.
I could not believe what I was looking at, as Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr came into the room.
“Have you seen my white T-shirt, Durgesh?” Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr asked me.
I shook my head, ‘no’.
Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr turned around and bent over right across from as Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr looked on the love seat for the t-shirt.
I was looking right at her excellent gorgeous glamorous perfectly round heavy buttocked Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass and legs, I knew she had a great body but this was unbelievable what was happening.
Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr turned around and stood right in front of me, she noticed the bulge in my gym shorts, which only added to her fever.
Maybe it was her imagination but Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr just got the impression that I was huge by how it strained at the material in my shorts.
Let me have him inside me, méré Maulā.
I could not take my eyes off her ever-lovely ever-beautiful Musalmān crotch.
The black material silhouetted it clearly.
The black nylons were clearly wet, as I no longer had to guess what was going on, my Bahū Bégum, Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr, was seducing me deliberately and I was enjoying every moment.
Why the hell shouldn’t I?
I had to break their incestuous marriages, isn’t it?
“So what are you up to?” Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr asked.
“Just going to take a shower and surf the web.” I replied.
“Looking at naked Musalmān Beauties and beautiful naked Musalmān houseladies, I would guess. But if you didn’t, I would be worried.” My Bahū Bégum, Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr, said, smiling, as if she was only teasing me, nothing else was there.
“Bahū Bégum,” I smiled, “I like looking at naked Musalmān Beauties and beautiful naked Musalmān houseladies and then I love to lovemaking with them too. I’m legendary for it already, you know.” I replied.
I had decided now to play her game too, myself.
She wanted to prove I’ve surrendered to incest by fucking her.
I wanted to take advantage of the opportunity and save her from the ultimate ever certain consequences of her incestuous sexual relationship with her own Hindu father/brother.
In the process, it was nothing wrong if I even enjoyed sex with her.
Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr was not expecting such a bold response.
Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr could feel her excitement growing with every passing second.
Trying to act as normal as possible without betraying her true feelings, Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr just could not take her eyes off the Hindu bulge in my shorts.
It looked as if I had a cucumber and she figured it had to be at least nine or ten inches long, something a porn star would have, Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr told herself.
“And what do you do after looking at those naked Musalmān Beauties and beautiful naked Musalmān houseladies?” Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr seductively asked.
“Maybe you should come and find out for yourself.” I replied.
“Well; maybe I will do just that.” My Bahū Bégum, Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr, said, taking advantage of the sudden unprecedented golden opportunity proposed to her.
Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr turned and walked towards the basement, then looked back and smiled most seductively, Bahū Bégum, Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr, knew how, at me.
Walking down the stairs, Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr could feel herself dripping from her ever-lovely ever-beautiful Musalmān crotch.
She dare not touch herself for fear of cumming, “not yet” my Bahū Bégum, Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr, said softly.
I showered quickly, my Hindu erection straining for relief as I dried myself.
My heart raced, I could not believe if I was dreaming or was this really happening.
I knew Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr would be surprised by the sight of my Anant Muslimātchod unique legendary Uncut Hindu Lund and could not wait to see her reaction.
Even at my prestigious sixty five, I was blessed with what most men yearned to have.
I measured my penis at just over eleven inches; my so many girl friends’ biggest fear was that it would hurt her internally, so we never really had full intercourse even.
I told them it even constricted optimum according to the depth of their cunts, but there were still some of them, that were too frightened to believe me.
Yet, the fact never worried me.
I was too big.
What would be Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr’s response?
Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr heard the shower stop and debated what to do next.
Her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot screamed out for climax and Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr was so curious to see what was going to happen next.
I walked out of the bathroom completely naked with my Hindu erection fully exposed.
I had never been so turned on and the way Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr was teasing me, I did not care if Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr caught me nude.
It only added to my excitement.
I walked in my bedroom and left the door open purposely for Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr to come in and catch me nude.
I had already called Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan before I went to shower.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was waiting for me there nude.
She was incurably proud of her ever excellent ever athletic nude Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān body.
The more I fucked Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan the more confident and proud of her nude body Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was.
I could feel myself throbbing between my legs. I was almost ready to fuck Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan when I saw Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr standing in the doorway.
Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr could not believe what Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr was looking at.
I had the biggest Anant Muslimātchod unique legendary Uncut Hindu Lund she had ever seen.
It went straight up and just appeared to be almost up to my chest.
Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr wanted to touch herself and it took all her control to just stand there and not do it.*
The fact was Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr herself had an Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah origin.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan had ultimately managed to establish an Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah in almost infinite creations.
She herself never approved of Everbest Wives Creations ideology.
Her father was a Brāhmañ, not a Vedic Monotheist Dvij Hindu.
Only her Ammī was an ardent Musalmān.
Whenever Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr had given voice to a girlish dream of irregular moral, her solemn orthodox Brāhmañ father, an omnivorous reader of Purāñs, Rāmāyañ and Mahābhārat, would repeat verbatim the words,
“Morals, romantic adventures she wants.”
Then lowering down at Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr, he would recite the wisdom of Someone:
“Morals, not adventures. Never. Adventures are an indication of inefficiency. Good explores never have them.”
As a consequence of this paternal foresight, Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr’s formative years had been boundaried by tangible disciplines:
The clock at the bedside, the budget in the bureau drawer, the schedule on the kitchen wall.
These rigid lessons had stood Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr in good stead during her attendance at the HVSI University of Administration in Ved Nagar, during her first administrative jobs in Ved Nagar, Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah creations and Everbest Wives Creations ultimately.
Especially when she was offered a job by Her Excellency Al Ziyā Al Islam Al Noor herself.
Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr was surprised.
“But I don’t believe in the fundamental doctrine of Everbest Wives Creations.” She said, “I don’t want to marry my father/brother. I never approved of a Brāhmañ husband.”
“What?” Her Excellency Al Ziyā Al Islam Al Noor was surprised, “Do you want a Musalmān husband?”
“Durgesh says a Musalmān husband is not as dangerous as the Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah creations and Everbest Wives Creations declare them and publicize heavily.”
“That’s why Ved Nagar is still the ultimately advanced resort for Pseudo Musalmīn even.” Her Excellency Al Ziyā Al Islam Al Noor said helplessly furiously. “There isn’t Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah exclusively. Even a Musalmān can be chosen as a husband in Ved Nagar and Hindu creations. Even Hindu Muslimāt creations tolerate the existence of Musalmān husbands in a noticeable number.”
Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr laughed.
“Well, there’s actual Democracy in Ved Nagar and these Hindu creations. They have religious Democracy there.”
“Democracy? My foot. That’s chaos actually. No male must be allowed to have another religion except Hinduism and no female must be allowed to practice another religion except Islam.”
Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr was smiling gracefully.
“Why? Don’t you know yourself? It constitutes Ashvinātam couple, that’s the only scientifically perfect couple, none else.”*
I was past feeling inhibited and I swiveled my chair so it faced Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr directly.
I felt no embarrassment as I pulled nude young Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan down my shaft and slid it into her young smart Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot.
The full length of my Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund vanished into Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s, Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånahā’s, Panjvaqtah Namāzī ever smart ever young Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot.
Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr quivered as Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr watched me fuck her as we both looked at each other.
Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr pictured in her mind what it would feel like, if Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr rode up and down Durgesh’s Anant Muslimātchod unique legendary Uncut Hindu Lund as Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånahā, Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr was sure that’s what Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan actually, took her place right now.
Her ever-lovely ever-beautiful Musalmān crotch felt as though it was on fire pleading for release.
It went on for hours in various positions, until I could feel myself on the verge of cumming, closed my eyes, and fucked extremely beautiful Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånahā, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, myself faster and faster.
Having Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr standing there watching me fuck her Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånahā, for hours, in countless sex positions, was the most exciting thing I could ever remember doing.
Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr did not just catch me; Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr was watching and waiting for my cum to shoot out of my eleven-inch Anant Muslimātchod unique legendary Uncut Hindu Lund into her Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånahā’s ever young ever smart Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān Choot.
Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr without even realizing it, moved closer to me.
Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr wanted to see me shoot my white Hindu cum out of that giant Anant Muslimātchod unique legendary Uncut Hindu Lund into her Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånahā’s ever young ever smart Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān Choot.
When Sinhdév Ākāsh, her husband, was with her, Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr would wait for Sinhdév Ākāsh, her husband, to cum and right at the last moment Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr would wrap her lips around his head and take it all into her mouth.
Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr wanted to do it now and fought herself from getting on her knees and sucking me dry.
I felt the first of five spasms as I shot my semen into her Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånahā’s ever young ever smart Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān Choot.
I could not believe how much came out and momentarily forgot that Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr was standing right next to me watching every detail of my orgasm into her Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånahā’s ever young ever smart Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān Choot.
I opened my eyes, yet wasn’t surprised how close Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr was standing to me.
I expected it from her.
I could see the camel toe in her leotards and knew Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr was on the verge of her own climax as well.
Her Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånahā was on her knees with her excellent gorgeous glamorous perfectly round heavy buttocked Panjvaqtah Namāzī Årab Musalmān ass wide-open and looking back at the camera.
Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr realized Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was about her age as well.
“So; you love fucking Musalmān Beauties wide open.” Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr said.
“Especially when they look like you.” I answered, still pounding into her Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånahā’s ever young ever smart Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān Choot.
her Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånahā’s ever young ever smart Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān Choot was clutching my Anant Muslimātchod unique legendary Uncut Hindu Lund entirely embedded into her.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, her Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånahā, smiled triumphantly at Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr.
I slid my hand slowly up her leg.
Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr froze as she felt the approaching fingers caressing her up towards her throbbing Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān, ardent Musalmān Choot.
Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr did everything Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr could do to close her legs and not let the Hindu intruder have its prize but realized that her legs betrayed her as she opened wide for my hand to have its way with her.
I could not believe I was fingering my own Bahū Bégum, Al Kħālidah Al Zahūr, as I felt my Anant Muslimātchod unique legendary Uncut Hindu Lund start to harden again into her Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånahā’s ever young ever smart Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān Choot.
I had plenty of practice with her Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånahā and knew exactly where to go to bring her to her own climax.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Imām Muħammad Ħasanmanaged to smile.
“Lady Robots? Well, Durgesh, my boy, I’m not a Vedic Monotheist Hindu. I’m a Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān. I don’t need lady robots at all.”
“Well, Abbū, Naåīmah herself has purchased these lady robots expressly trained to serve her. How can I remove them?”
“Okay. It’s all right I think. I’ll try to adjust myself to this new environment. How many humans, however?”
“None, Abbū, of course.”
We had just entered into a room, crowded from floor to ceiling with book films.
Three fixed viewers with large twenty-four inch viewing panels set vertically were in three corners of the room.
The fourth contained an animation screen.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan tried to keep his patience.
Yet, he himself realized he wasn’t quite successful in keeping annoyance absolutely out of his voice.
“Did my daughter kick everyone out just to leave me rattling around alone in this mausoleum, tomb, vault?”
“It’s meant only for Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and me.” I said respectfully, “A dwelling such as this for one couple is customary at Ved Nagar.”
“Every couple lives here like this?”
“Every couple, almost I mean.”
“Allah Allah, I’ll be damned, my son. What the hell do you need all the rooms for?”
“It’s convenient to devote a single room to a single purpose, Abbū. This is the library. There is also a music room, a gymnasium, a kitchen, a bakery, a dining room, a machine shop, various robot repair and testing rooms, ten bedrooms―”
“Stop. Allah,who takes care of all of this?” Imām Muħammad Ħasan swung his arms in a wide arc.
“There are a number of household robots. They have been purchased by Naåīmah herself.”
“Allah, let her do whatsoever she damn pleases. I don’t need all this.”
Imām Muħammad Ħasan had the urge to sit down and refuge to budge.
Well, my nonstop lovemaking to Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī was no problem for him.
He was habitual now perfectly to see me fucking various extremely beautiful absolutely shameless, rather proud of it instead, Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān ladies.
Was I really Param Purush?
Imām Muħammad Ħasan wondered once more.
Do I really have my infinite bodies?
Am I really fucking infinite dazzling Musalmān Beauties in my infinite bodies?
Does our nonstop infinite ashvinātam lovemaking really produce the initial Eīshān Vaigyānic energy that makes the Multiverse?
He couldn’t believe it.
Yes, the Musalmān Beauties and many of their Musalmān parents and other relatives also back it now.
But it’s because they had their own vile vested interests behind it.
They were immensely shameless selfish persons that could do anything for their worldly benefits.
To hell with them.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan wanted to see no more rooms now.
“You can remain in one room, Abbū,” I said, “if you desire so. That was visualized as a possibility from the start. Nevertheless, the customs of Ved Nagar being what they are, it was considered wiser to honor you properly to allow this house to be built―”
“Built!” Imām Muħammad Ħasan stared at me as if I’d gone mad, “Built? Damn it. You mean this is built for me? All this? Specifically?”
“A thoroughly roboticized Eīshān Vaigyānic noble deeds centered economy―”
“Yes, I see what you’re going to say. What will you do with the house when all this is over?”
“Why, I said your own daughter Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan owns it. It’s her guest house.”
“Guest house? Hell. Does every couple here own such a guest house too?”
“Almost. The couples who are not as Shaktimān as we are have somewhat lesser standard dwellings however.”
“You want to say that the principle of Shaktipāt and Shaktixaý is really true?”
“That’s my best opinion. But I never impose my conclusions on others. You can take your own decision.”
“Well, isn’t it true that you Hindus believe in it?”
“Sure, but you aren’t a Hindu. You aren’t bound with our beliefs.”
“You mean I can refuse openly that what you Hindus believe in isn’t true? And I still can live here in Ved Nagar?” Imām Muħammad Ħasan couldn’t believe it.
He had been reported Hindus were more communal than even the Jews and the Christians were.
But if it was so−
“Sure,” I smiled affably, “why not? Ved Nagar, if it’s really Ved Nagar, shouldn’t it be even more Democratic than the rest of the cities?”*
Imām Muħammad Ħasan smiled ironically.
“We, Musalmīn, can’t even imagine such a Democracy in any Musalmān city/nation.”
“Abbū, what do you want to say? Islam isn’t a Democratic religion ab initio?”
“Well, my wives claim I’m a Pseudo Musalmān. Do you think they’re right?”
“You know better, Abbū. Your wives cuckolded you, I never did it.”
“That’s right, my boy. But why are you asking then whether I believe Islam isn’t a Democratic religion ab initio?” Imām Muħammad Ħasan smiled, “You’ve yourself written an article ‘Why did Islam face a Counter revolution at Karbala?’ You know very well the present day Islam found in most of the Musalmīn today is Pseudo Islam actually propounded by Yazīd Malåūn lånat ålayhi, don’t you?”*
I watched Imām Muħammad Ħasan gravely.
But to my immense surprise, Imām Muħammad Ħasan wasn’t actually paying attention to me or to what I was saying even.
Instead, Imām Muħammad Ħasan was watching, absolutely fascinated, Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī’s still extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt that was swallowing my legendary unique Uncut Hindu Lund ravenously.
This man couldn’t be communal ever.
If he were, he couldn’t watch extremely beautiful Musalmān ladies swallowing, so eagerly and so aggressively, my Uncut Hindu Lund in their Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān Cunts.
Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī, even at her undisputed eighty- sixth, aggressively fucking me ravenously.
Yes, I wasn’t fucking her.
She was fucking me.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan was himself watching it with his own eyes.
Well, why the hell shouldn’t she, if she wants/needs it?
Why shouldn’t it be a personal matter between Durgesh and Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī themselves?
Why the hell an entire society interfere in it, as the immense hypocrites Pseudo Musalmīn do?
If Durgesh is thirty three and he still enjoys fucking an eighty five years old, yet still incredibly, wonderfully capable to enjoy sex, well experienced Musalmān lady, why should Pseudo Musalmīn interfere?
Isn’t sexual intercourse an immensely private matter?*
Imām Muħammad Ħasan’s mobile started ringing suddenly.
He smiled at me.
“Excuse me.” He said and replied on the mobile,
“Hello, oh, yes, I’m speaking from Ved Nagar now… Yes, that’s right. …Let me ask my son in law first.”
He looked at me.
“Durgesh, one of my friends’ daughters, Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd, wants to retain you. She had talked with me when I was on the way from Makkah Al Mukarramah to Ved Nagar.”
Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī laughed.
“Imām Muħammad Ħasan, you know Durgesh’s reputation among us Musalmān Beauties.”
Imām Muħammad Ħasan smiled cunningly.
“Well, Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd is herself twenty eight. Why the hell shouldn’t we let her decide whether she needs Durgesh’s legal advice despite his Hindu husband of Musalmān Beauties reputation, his Hindu Al Buåūlatul Muslimāt image, or not?”
Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī was as if crestfallen.
“What? What did you say?”
Imām Muħammad Ħasan smiled cunningly.
“You think I’m really a Communal Musalmān. I’m really a Pseudo Musalmān. Don’t you?” *
Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī pushed back her still miraculously extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī glorious gorgeous Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān buttocks toward my nude Hindu lap and with a great proud exhibition she once more swallowed my entire Uncut Hindu Prick into her ever tight Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt.
“Your own Musalmān house ladies tell all of us that you are a Criminal/Criminal minded Musalmān, a terrorist Musalmān. Now, tell me if a true Musalmān can be a Criminal/Criminal minded Musalmān ever? And if it cannot be ever, what are you if you are not a Pseudo Musalmān?”
“Most of you, rather I must say almost all of you our own Musalmān house ladies spread such a drastic lie about your own Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān mankind. Why? Only to get sympathy from the rest of the world.”
“And you claim it’s a lie?” Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī looked at Imām Muħammad Ħasan contemptuously.
“Well, not in every case, I do agree.”
“Not in most of the cases?”
Imām Muħammad Ħasan couldn’t answer.
“Answer me. Not in most of the cases?” Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī insisted.
“Do you agree?”
“Well, unfortunately ‘yes’.”
“Then how is it a lie?”
“Your Musalmān house ladies aren’t spreading any lie against their own mankind. They are only speaking the truth. Hell, why don’t you Pseudo Musalmīn acknowledge the truth, instead of blaming us Musalmān Beauties?”*
Imām Muħammad Ħasan stepped into the field.
He never knew whether it was a superstition, his self-hypnotism, hallucination, truth or anything else.
Yet, it was true he was watching me in my so many bodies simultaneously.
It was a hall.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan’s entire extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān Houseladies were present there.
He couldn’t believe his own eyes.
His grandmothers, both paternal and maternal, his Ammīs, his sisters, cousins, daughters, everyone was there in nude.
I was fucking all of them in different sex positions.
Every one of them had my separate body.
Well, they could have been humanoid robots too.
Ved Nagar was an extremely roboticized City.
All his extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān Houseladies had encircled him among them.
Some of them were playing with my Uncut Hindu Penis.
Some of them were kissing, licking and sucking it ravenously, yet sophisticatedly nevertheless.
They were giving me a marvelous blowjob.
The circles his Musalmān Houseladies made around him weren’t perfectly round.
They were playing with my Uncut Hindu Penis surrounding Imām Muħammad Ħasan.
It was said that my Uncut Hindu Penis with the Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān Houseladies set the controls.
Their play with my Uncut Hindu Penis worked as smoothly working starting lever.
He was feeling more and more energetic among them.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan wasn’t surprised.
It wasn’t anything new to him.
He was quite used to it now.
The energy, generated thus, if any, was making him more and more energetic with every passing fraction of time.
Durgesh had said him,
“Despite my utmost efforts I couldn’t make your Musalmān Houseladies not to cuckold you. They insisted you are very dangerous to humanity. Well, since I couldn’t stop your cuckolding I want you to get its entire benefits, at least. That’s the most I can do for you, sorry, Abbū.”*
Salāħuddīn Ayyūbī gave his wife a final kiss before boarding the military aircraft.
“I don’t want you to go.” She whimpered.
“Honey, I have to…I’m sorry.”
Shamsah Salāħuddīn gazed up at him, her big green eyes full of tears.
“What if you get hurt…or get killed?”
“Babe, that’s not gonna happen…I promise you.” Salāħuddīn Ayyūbī said confidently.
As he boarded the plane with the rest of his battalion, Salāħuddīn Ayyūbī gave a final wave back at his family.
Shamsah Salāħuddīn forced a smile and waved back, her 28-year-old daughter Najmah Salāħuddīn stood by her side, holding her hand.
On the other side of her was Durgesh, her lean handsome 33-year-old son in law.
Shamsah Salāħuddīn treated me not as her Hindu Son in law in law.
She treated me as if I was her own son.
Salāħuddīn Ayyūbī never disappointed his wife Shamsah Salāħuddīn.
She had deliberately dropped her father’s name and was using her husband’s name instead, with her own name too, as well as with her extremely beautiful daughter, Najmah Salāħuddīn’s name.
In the face, Shamsah Salāħuddīn looked like a 38-year-old version of the Najmah Salāħuddīn.
Her body was what many would call voluptuous.
It’s not that she was fat, or even chubby for that matter.
She just had all the right curves, in all the right places.
Everyone took her to be Najmah Salāħuddīn’s elder sister, instead of her real Ammī that Shamsah Salāħuddīn actually was.
Even with his mind full of uncertainty, Salāħuddīn Ayyūbī couldn’t help but admire her extraordinary Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān beauty from the door of the plane.
Her thin cotton baby-blue mini-skirt showed off the flowing contours of her extremely beautiful gorgeous exquisite Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān buttocks and left bare the golden brown glow of her long luscious Musalmān legs.
Her button up white satin stretch blouse hugged the enormity of her middle-aged yet still miraculously erect breasts.
Her sexy little feet were displayed in a pair of dainty sandals with a 4-inch heel.
A row of baby blue rhinestones lined the strap crossing her foot, right about her cute little toes with their painted toenails.
The site of her beautiful legs made Salāħuddīn Ayyūbī think about all those nights he had them wrapped around him.
All the times that Shamsah Salāħuddīn had clutched him with her silky softness while he bucked in the smooth warm flesh of her saddle.
While they did this, he would often look back in the mirror across from their bed and marvel at the way her strong legs were wrapped around his midsection, her tiny bare feet flexing and pointing towards the ceiling.
One of the other soldiers broke Salāħuddīn Ayyūbī from his trance.
“Commander Ayyūbī, we gotta move, sir.”
As the aircrafts door closed, Shamsah Salāħuddīn sniffled and wiped another tear away.
She slid her arm around her Hindu Son in law and leaned her head to one side, resting it on my shoulder.
It was nearly two month later that the roadside bomb rattled the humvee with Salāħuddīn Ayyūbī inside.
The vehicle toppled into the desert sand, its occupants SCREAMING in pain.
Salāħuddīn Ayyūbī only remembered a few moments before blacking out.
He hung upside down.
The door had imploded from the blast and crushed his legs.
He could feel the blood trickling from a gash in his forehead.
“Shamsah Salāħuddīn.” He muttered.
As his body went into shock, he had a sudden vision of his extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān wife, her big beaming green eyes staring into his…full of love.
He saw her silky tan legs through the mirror, clutching around him, her little feet flexing…bobbing in the air from the power of his thrusts.
Then…everything went black.*
He heard his name being called.
Salāħuddīn Ayyūbī’s eyes peered open and into the face of a military doctor.
“Can you hear me Salāħuddīn Ayyūbī? Can you hear my voice?” The man asked.
“Yes.” Came the reply.
“That’s good…that’s excellent.” The doctor smiled.
Salāħuddīn Ayyūbī gazed around the room.
“Where am I?”
“You’re back home. You’re at the Base Hospital. You’re battalion took quite a hit. You’ve been in a coma for about six days.”
“Where’s my wife?” Salāħuddīn Ayyūbī asked.
“She’s been here a lot by your side, but it’s the middle of the night. I’ll have the nurse call her right away,” the doctor said.
Thirty minutes later Salāħuddīn Ayyūbī heard the rushing CLICK of his wife’s heels moving up the hospital hallway.
She stepped into the room, her beautiful face glowing with anticipation.
“Ohhh Salāħuddīn Ayyūbī.” She said in relief, rushing over and carefully embracing him on the bed.
“Hi baby.” He said, nearly in tears himself.
The early morning hours passed and after a series of scans and examinations of Salāħuddīn Ayyūbī, the doctor joined Salāħuddīn Ayyūbī and his wife in Salāħuddīn Ayyūbī’s room.
“So doc, my legs…are the done for good?” Salāħuddīn Ayyūbī asked.
“I’m afraid so, Salāħuddīn Ayyūbī. The force of that blast not only did severe damage to your legs, but also your spinal column. The good news is you still have healthy blood flow, which prevented us from having to amputate. However, it’s gonna be a long road to recovery,” the doctor explained.
Shamsah Salāħuddīn looked absolutely devastated.
“Will he have any chance of overcoming the paralysis, with the right type of physical therapy maybe?”
“I’m afraid at this point it looks permanent. The damage was just too severe. I’m sorry.”
The doctor left the room and Shamsah Salāħuddīn seemed to stare into space as if shocked by the news.
Salāħuddīn Ayyūbī squeezed her hand.
“I’m sorry baby.” He said.
“You lied.” She muttered.
She glared down at him, her eyes full of tears.
“You lied to me. You promised me nothing would happen to you over there. YOU FUCKING LIED!”
Shamsah Salāħuddīn stood up, pulled her hand away from Salāħuddīn Ayyūbī’s and began sobbing as she stormed out of the room.
“Shamsah Salāħuddīn…Shamsah Salāħuddīn, come back. Baby I’m…”*
It was nearly 5am when Shamsah Salāħuddīn arrived back home.
They chose a modest three-bedroom ranch in a middle-class neighborhood, just across town from base.
The middle aged, yet still extremely beautiful, Shamsah Salāħuddīn, moved up the hallway and peeked in on her daughter.
She found Najmah Salāħuddīn sleeping comfortably.
A few minutes later 33 year old Durgesh turned onto my side in bed.
My eyes peeked open and I saw my Ammī in law’s curvy silhouette in his doorway.
She was leaning with her hands against the doorframe and just seemed to be hovering there…watching me.
“Ammī, everything ok with Abbū?”
Shamsah Salāħuddīn slowly sashayed across the room and sat on her Hindu Son in law’s bedside.
“Thank you for staying here and watching your wife for me.”
“Oh, Of course…”
“Your Abbū’s awake, but I’m afraid his injuries are pretty extensive,” she said, then went on to explain the doctor’s findings.
“So when’s he coming home?” I asked.
“Not positive yet. The doctor said as early as a few days.”
“Wow, I can’t believe all of this has happened.” I muttered.
Tenderly, Shamsah Salāħuddīn had brushed her Hindu Son in law’s bangs out of my eyes with her long nails.
“That makes the two of us Durgesh, my dear son in law.” She said.
After a short silence, I heard my Ammī in law, Shamsah Salāħuddīn, sniffle.
“Don’t cry Ammī. It’ll be OK.”
She rubbed my strong shoulder.
“I know sweetie. It’s just…”
“It’s just what?” I asked almost scolding her as if, yet still with immense respect.
I knew she was behind her daughter’s marriage with me.
There were strong rumors that she didn’t marry her daughter with me for her daughter actually.
She was herself after me.
My marriage with her daughter was only an excuse as she conditioned the marriage with asking me to let her daughter still with her.
It meant my frequent presence there nonstop.
Even in the dim early morning darkness, I could see my Ammī in law, Shamsah Salāħuddīn’s misty eyes, gazing down at me.
“Can I just…lay here with you for awhile? Do you mind?” Shamsah Salāħuddīn asked softly.
“No, not at all, Ammījān,” I said, scotching over on my small twin sized bed.
Shamsah Salāħuddīn slipped her little feet from their heels and curled her luscious legs up on her Hindu Son in law’s bed.
I was on my back.
She slid over close to me.
Lying on her side, she rested her head on my shoulder.
“Will you hold me, please?” She sniffled.
“Sure, Ammījān,” I muttered, curling my arms around her.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
The Cabinet Room
She felt that the meeting in the Cabinet Room should concentrate on Ved Nagar and my Svarūpé Avasthānam only.
On what Evelyn Carter should give to me and expect to receive in return.
Yes, she isn’t certain I’ve attained my Svarūpé Avasthānam.
Neither she is certain there is any stage in human evolution that’s called Svarūpé Avasthānam, Self Synchronization, at all.
There’s only one human society, Hinduism that claims, there exists such a stage in human evolution.
HVSI explains its every meteoric miraculous incredible rise using this extremely incredulous theory.
Evelyn Carter doesn’t believe it’s true.
Well, Lily Turner herself doesn’t believe it.
“You know I can’t.” Lily Turner said almost incensed due to her helplessness.
With this concentration on the immediate subject of concern, there was no need to be burdened by the secretary of agriculture, the secretary of commerce, the secretary of transportation, the attorney general, and other members of President’s staff.
Entering the Cabinet Room, Lily Turner could see at a glance that the necessary officers had been alerted.
They were already on hand.
Lily Turner greeted Dr. Åārifah Mustafā, Secretary to Secretary of State, Cyrus Vance, Dr. Shāhidah Ashraf, the recommended Chief of Staff of White House, the secretary of defense and the three officers of the National Security Council.
Then she took the leather chair next to Evelyn Carter’s vacant one.
Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās watched me gravely.
“I asked was there any ice to break?” I repeated my question.
“It depends on how you look at it.”
“You went to the table to get acquainted with Nadīm Iqbāl Muħammad?”
“If the court please,” Waħīd Murād, the Public Prosecutor, said, “I must insist that the counsel is renowned, infamous rather I must say, to be biased in favor of Musalmān Beauties whosoever she may be. Yet he is surprisingly manifestly unfair to this witness. He is browbeating this witness constantly and trying to put her in a false light before the jury. I want to remind the court, as well as to the defense counsel this woman is a widow. She has been bereaved by the crime of murder committed by―”
“Just a minute, your honor,” I interrupted, smiling, “Mr. Public Prosecutor is arguing the case. There isn’t any question before the court for the Public Prosecutor to argue the case at this time.”
Waħīd Murād was quite angry.
“Nevertheless,” he shouted as if, “I object to having this woman held up in front of this jury as a strumpet, a harlot, a prostitute.”
I smiled patronizing, yet sophisticated.
“And I object, your honor, to having Mrs. Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās held up as a mealymouthed, deceptive, persecuted, bereaved widow simply so the prosecutor can play on the sympathies of the jury. It isn’t a theater; neither are we staging a theatrical drama here. It’s a temple of justice and we are fighting here for the life of humankind. One person already has been murdered and we are fighting here to save the life of another.”
Judge Keyser frowned.
“At present there isn’t any question before the court. Therefore, there isn’t any reason whatsoever to make an objection. The jurors are called upon to see the witnesses, to watch their demeanor, their behavior, their conduct on the stand, to form their own opinions as to thefacts.
The prosecutor has one theory of the case and the defense has another. Please try to avoid personalities, gentlemen. You may proceed, Mr. Durgesh.”
By this time, all vestiges, all hints of the fragile, delicate, helpless, bereaved widow had left the witness Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās.
However, her guts were appreciable.
Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās was still sitting on the witness chair, slightly forward, still sad, and feigning a widow being intimidated unreasonably.
“Now then,” I attacked her once again, “you saw this letter in your husband’s pocket?”
“It wasn’t a letter, your honor,” she looked at Judge Keyser, “everyone can understand that it was a blackmail demand.”
“Blackmail demand on Nadīm Iqbāl Muħammad?” I asked.
“The letter was sent to him.”
“Isn’t it a fact that your third husband, Akram Sultan, had also received a blackmail demand?” I thundered at her.
“I can’t help it.”
“Isn’t it a fact that your second husband, Muħammad Qāsim Ayyūbī, had also received a blackmail demand?” I smiled at her meaningfully.
“I can’t help it.” Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās repeated her answer.
“Isn’t it a fact that your first husband, Zāhid Rashīd, had also received a blackmail demand?” I smiled at her once again.
“I can’t help it.” She again repeated.
“All the four envelopes had the return address in the upper left hand corner and the name A. M. Åbbās?”
“How do you know it was blackmail?”
“There was a demand for money in the letter. What do you think; it was an invitation to dance?”
“I can’t answer that question. I’d rather leave it to the jury to draw their own conclusion.”
Åāliyah Muħammad Åbbās watched me gravely.
“That’s your privilege.”
“What’s your full name?”
“Will you please abbreviate it?”
“A. M. Åbbās.” She said curtly, “I understand your implication. But I never blackmailed anyone in my life. Neither have I sent any blackmail letter to anyone. Anyone can use my name as a return address to implicate me.”
“Is there a newsstand at the corner by your residence?”
“Yes, there is.”
“Are you familiar with the person who runs it?”*
Lily Turner repeated her question.
“I asked how did your pre-briefing go with Evelyn Carter?”
“It means lousy, useless, worthless, crummy, horrible. Our potential candidate for next President of USA, Ms. Evelyn Carter, didn’t give a damn about Ved Nagar, Svarūpé Avasthānam and Durgesh himself. She only wanted to speak of sex championship contest in Washington D.C. between
“Then our work’s cut out for us.”
“You are forgetting the resources CIA has. Fortunately or unfortunately, I’m somewhat in a position to use those entire resources for the benefits of USA. Even the President of USA himself has given us the permission, let alone the Director of CIA. I never believe anyone of my Musalmān women friends too, as the President of USA has instructed us, rather has imposed the condition on us, without investigating about them thoroughly.”
“I agree with Lily Turner.” Dr. Åārifah Mustafā, Secretary to Secretary of State, Cyrus Vance, said severely, “That’s why I cancelled everyone else. Ved Nagar is the dream city of Vedic Monotheist Hindus. Durgesh has succeeded in their dreams getting true. He is a Parahuman and Ved Nagar is full of Posthumans.”
“Nonsense.” Evelyn Carter said.
“You must be crazy, Lily.” Evelyn Carter said tersely, “I know Durgesh more than you. He and his adroit followers Vedic Monotheist Hindus are number one liars, number one rumor spreaders. They believe that spreading rumors is Dharm Yuddh, the holy war, a Crusade.”*
Lily Turner smiled.
“I wanted to concentrate on what’s waiting for you at lunch.”
Evelyn Carter controlled herself.
Now she appeared suddenly surprisingly to be in good humor.
She brushed back her hair, grinned at the assemblage, and watched all of them impishly deliberately.
Lily Turner realized her strategy.
She reminded Evelyn Carter gravely.
“We have been discussing your lunch with Durgesh.”
“Is it going to be a long lunch?” Evelyn Carter asked delinquently.
“It doesn’t have to be.” Dr. Åārifah Mustafā, Secretary to Secretary of State, Cyrus Vance, assured her, “After some filling gap talk with the ever richest person in the entire history of humankind, you can wind up lunch and we’ll move into the Yellow Oval Room. The President would be busy elsewhere with Valéry Giscard d’Estaing, the President of France. He has instructed us already to be there in Yellow Oval Room.”
“That can be strictly business?”
“That can be strictly business.” Dr. Åārifah Mustafā said.
“I just wanted to know because I didn’t want to miss the big contest.” Evelyn Carter explained.
“You’ll have plenty of time for that,” Lily Turner promised, “This lunch and meeting with the former head of Hindu Vishv Underground is scheduled to last one and a half hours. Then Miss USA, Margaret Kennedy, is scheduled to accompany Durgesh to the opening of the Ashvinatam Museum expecting Durgesh to say a few words, maybe five minutes’ worth, about an important fund raiser. That’ll give you plenty of time to get back for the contest.”
Evelyn Carter surveyed the Cabinet Room.
“I see a lot of our friends are missing. You’ve brought in only the big brass.”
“Deliberate,” said Lily Turner simply, “Since you are going to be bargaining with the ever sexiest Vedic Monotheist Hindu, we wanted our full concentration to be devoted to a treaty with Ved Nagar/Trantor.”*
“Fair enough.” She said.
“The fact you have to remember is not that Durgesh is the Mayor of Ved Nagar/Trantor now. He was the democratic head of Hindu Vishv Underground too. Hindu Vishv Underground was an underground organization of revolutionaries who were actually behind the independence of India.”
“That doesn’t exist now?” Evelyn Carter smiled sarcastically.
“CIA suspects that it does exist now as Ved Nagar/Trantor instead of its said dissolution into Vyom, interspace.” Lily Turner said curtly. “Our former station head at Ved Nagar/Trantor, Della Turner, and our present station head, Akhilésh M. Āgnéý there, both have reported the importance of Ved Nagar/Trantor. We suspect it isn’t only a city in India. It’s actually Hindu Vishv Underground in its new present supreme developed form.”
Evelyn Carter smiled.
“Any evidence that our suspicion may be true?”
“That’s what you have to find out.” Lily Turner said.
She was twenty-one.
“The fact,” Lily Turner said, “that your younger sister, Rukħsānah Carter, is also in the same university as Kħadījah Muħammad was in, will give you something in common to talk about before you settle down to the nitty-gritty. Durgesh loves Kħadījah Muħammad even more than his duly married wife, Saiyadah Fātimah PhD.”
Now, Evelyn Carter too nodded.
“Alright, what’s the nitty-gritty?”
She tore it loose and came around the table to Evelyn Carter.
“Nellie Adams, take my seat and give me yours. This will make it easier for me to explain a map of Indian sub continent and beyond that I’ve been drawing.”
The exchange was made.
“That’s the reason I called you in today. You are the one closest to Salīm Jalāluddīn Muħammad. I have naturally to discuss the problem with you.” Dr. Āsiyah Mustafā cleared her throat and looked into Nūrjahān Ghayās Beg’s beautiful Iranian Shiå Musalmān eys, “I saw Salīm Jalāluddīn Muħammad late yesterday. I outlined one final time what had to be done. He approved, approved of the surgery. This morning, first thing, he telephoned me. He has changed his mind. He is turning down the operation.”
“He is what? Salīm won’t go through it? I didn’t talk to him this morning. He was still asleep. I haven’t heard about it naturally. It makes no sense. Are you sure, Doctor? We had agreed surgery was his only chance.”
“Apparently, Salīm now doesn’t think so. He now thinks there’s a better course. Have you seen this morning’s paper?”
Nūrjahān surveyed the front page.
She was more bewildered than ever.
“There’s just some headline about Madīnah Munawwarah.”
Turn to page three. Read the full story.”
Nūrjahān Ghayās Beg opened the paper.
The headline hit her.
The story that followed was bylined by great Bābarah Åālamgīr.
It was datelined Paris.
Nūrjahān Ghayās Beg calmly, patiently, read the news story.
When she was through, she folded the paper patiently, neatly, and put it on the desk.
She met the beautiful eyes of Dr. Āsiyah Mustafā.
Nūrjahān Ghayās Beg was aghast, stunned, as the full import of what was happening struck her.
“Yes, that’s the news.” Dr. Āsiyah Mustafā said.
“News? Hell. The hallucination of some crazy uneducated/under educated Musalmīn. It might be some deliberate political strategy of Pseudo Musalmīn too to compensate the anti Musalmīn anti Islam trend, propelled by Dr. Ali Sina and his co authors. Are you telling me Salīm Jalāluddīn Muħammad has read it and believes in this nonsense?”
“Yes.” Dr. Āsiyah Mustafā admitted.
Evelyn Carter watched it.
“A crude drawing of the Indian Sub Continent. It highlights our major Eīshān Vaigyānic bases that help us contain any overenthusiasm that may occur in India, Pakistan, Shri Lanka, nd Afghanistan.” Using her pen as a pointer on the map, Dr. Åārifah Mustafā resumed, “As you can see, our potential Presidential candidate for the next term, this Eīshān Vaigyānic base of ours there in Pakistan has three major wings: Sunnī, Shiå and Aħmadī. Dr. Āsiyah Mustafā is the Commander of our Sunnī Eīshān Vaigyānic base. It is unfortunate that Dr. Āsiyah Mustafā doesn’t have even the citizenship of Pakistan. She is still a Turk Musalmān Beauty. Nūrjahān Ghayās Beg is the Commander of our Shiå Eīshān Vaigyānic base. What a tragedy it is that as Dr. Āsiyah Mustafā, Nūrjahān Ghayās Beg too isn’t a Pakistani citizen. Nūrjahān Ghayās Beg is still a proud Iranian. We have only an Aħmadī Musalmān Beauty as our Aħmadī Eīshān Vaigyānic base at Pakistan that’s a citizen of Pakistan.”
Evelyn Carter smiled.
“How the hell you think Durgesh can help us in improving it?”
“He can permit us to have similar three Eīshān Vaigyānic bases in Ved Nagar: Sunnī Eīshān Vaigyānic base, Shiå Eīshān Vaigyānic base and Aħmadī Eīshān Vaigyānic base. He is the Mayor of the dream city Ved Nagar.”
“Do you really believe in Eīshān Vigyān?”
“Allah,” Dr. Åārifah Mustafā looked at her entirely disgruntled. “Don’t tell us you don’t deserve the post we are preparing you for.”
“Shame on you, Evelyn Carter,” Lily Turner said curtly, “you are more interested in the sex championship contest between Musalmān Beauties and Christian Beauties, than you are interested in your preparation for what we want you to be.”
“Go to hell your Nafīsah Salmān and you both. I say Nafīsah Salmān has succeeded in getting Durgesh. Her ambition has been attained. She is living now in your so-called dream city, Ved Nagar/Trantor. If it’s really a dream city as you claim it to be, why the hell Nafīsah Salmān would risk her golden fortune by helping us, instead of working for HVSI? Durgesh is her Live in Relationship Partner now. Nafīsah Salmān isn’t a fool to risk the golden opportunity of her life. No one would. Even I wouldn’t if I were in her shoes.”
“So this is the reason you are not interested in the strategies we are suggesting?” Lily Turner was furious now.
“Well, why should I?”
Evelyn Carter stared at the map.
“An area, a large area you’ve colored in green and saffron, and two small ones.”
“And you want one there?”
“Don’t you?” now it was Nellie Adams, the secretary to the secretary of defense.
Moreover, Nellie Adams was furious.
“Nellie Adams, the secretary to the secretary of defense,” Evelyn Carter laughed sarcastically, “Don’t pretend to be righteous enough to be more interested in anything else instead in sex with Durgesh. Didn’t you yourself rape Durgesh because he wasn’t leaving Dr. Åārifah Mustafā?”
“I raped him because he was deliberately ignoring me.” Nellie Adams shouted, “It doesn’t mean I’m as disinterested in my country and in Christianity as the hell you are. I am ashamed of you, Evelyn Carter.”
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
It looked good.
Given its placement, the whip drew the eyes to the curves of her gorgeous Musalmān breasts and added more visual appeal to the beautiful young woman.
“What?” I couldn’t believe I’d heard her right.
“Ghausiyah Muħammad Yåqūb, are you crazy?”
“Certainly not, Durgesh darling, méré Hindu Piyā, Hindu Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt, hum Musalmān ħasīnāon ké Hindu Kħasam, Hindu husband of us Musalmān Beauties! Instead, you are crazy who really believed I won’t fuck you.”
“Undress yourself and mount me.”
I hesitated somewhat.
“Don’t hesitate. Can’t you see? You’ve bound me on your bed. If I shout now, who wouldn’t believe that you are raping me?”
“I never thought you’d do it to me.”
The contrast of the black leather whip with the yellow-dominated pajama shirt also attracted my attention.
The result was that I gazed upon Ghausiyah Muħammad Yåqūb’s chest for far longer than was needed, and once I realized what I was doing, I felt myself excited to have sex myself with this Just eighteen Just adult Musalmān Beauty.
I stood and turned away from her in an attempt to hide my discomfort.
“It’s okay,” I heard her say softly, “Come on, fuck me. You don’t need to be embarrassed at all.”
Sure of what she meant now, I turned to face her again, even though I could still feel the heat of my lust for her.
“I don’t mind if you look at me, Durgesh darling, méré Hindu Piyā, Hindu Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt, hum Musalmān ħasīnāon ké Hindu Kħasam, Hindu husband of us Musalmān Beauties!” Muħammad Ålī’s Sister clarified smiling. “To be honest, I don’t mind if you even fuck me wildly. That’s what I really was after. Come on.”
Her expressive hazel eyes were full of truth and trust.
The truth was not a surprise, as the few times I could ever remember her lying to me was to protect a surprise she was preparing for me.
Yet the trust…
Her trust touched me deeply.
Her trust in me was the reason that she was bound to my bed at all, but the depth of her trust conveyed by her eyes…
Somehow, that trust gave me the strength I needed to reinvigorate my professionalism.
It was a bonding moment which transcended her physical bondage, one which I knew would cause her spirit to soar in that reaffirmation of the connection she and I had shared for more than twenty years.
Only then did I finally retrieve the movie camera and, put it at the foot of the bed, began to record the movie.
My Uncut Hindu Lund’s position was changed multiple times upon her chest and then later moved to her groin where it was also featured in multiple positions.
I lost track of time, my mind fully focused instead on the lighting, the camera position, occasionally giving her an instruction to create an even better pose for the movie camera.
And then, the camera set atop the dresser, I sat beside her on the bed again, retrieving my Uncut Hindu Lund and gently dangling its tip across her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Just eighteen Just adult Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān face.
Ghausiyah Muħammad Yåqūb smiled at the gesture, and that emboldened me as I dragged my Uncut Hindu Lund down her neck, down her chest, and repeatedly brushed it gently and slowly back and forth across her gorgeous Musalmān breasts.
Her eyes fluttered closed as her head tipped back upon the pillow, her arms pulling against the tethered cuffs, her back arching noticeably, her lips parting.
What I was doing to her was clearly more and more arousing for her, and even though she was Muħammad Ålī’s Sister, I felt a sense of pride in being able to give her such a unique, kinky pleasure.
I couldn’t preach her not to do it.
She would’ve gone to someone else.
Wasn’t that more dangerous?
Wasn’t it better to do it myself?
The gentle brushing of her gorgeous Musalmān breasts did not last very long ― maybe thirty seconds at most ― but when I finally set my Uncut Hindu Lund beside her on the bed, Muħammad Ålī’s Sister whimpered sadly, sounding very much like a puppy who wanted to be fed but had no one available to open a bag of dog food.
Glancing back to her chest, I noticed a pair of small indentations pressing against the inside of her pajama shirt.
“I guess that really did feel good for you,” I said softly, smiling with amusement.
“Yeah…” Her voice was breathy, sultry, and almost intimate.
She finally opened her eyes and looked up at me again, the trust still prominent within her hazel orbs.
“Can we do a few more pictures?” she asked.
“Sure,” I replied. “What did you have in mind?”
She hesitated slightly, which was again a significant sign and made me wonder exactly what she had in mind.
“Would you unbutton me and do a few with your Uncut Hindu Lund across my naked chest?”
I definitely had not expected that request, not from Ghausiyah Muħammad Yåqūb.
“Are you really sure you want me to fuck your…” I began, unable to complete the sentence as my mind attempted to reconcile her request with the deeply internalized norms of society.
“I’m sure,” she affirmed, adding a slow nod. “Just do titty-fuck me now, okay?”
Time seemed to again slow considerably as I leaned over her.
This time, I did not attempt to purposely avoid Muħammad Ålī’s Sister’s breasts.
Beginning with the top button, I slowly exposed her feminine parts to my eyes for the very first time, and when the unbuttoned pajama shirt was finally spread open to provide a full view of her uncovered breasts, I wasn’t even slightly embarrassed by the soft sound of admiration I heard escaping from my own lips.
Ghausiyah Muħammad Yåqūb blushed a little, but otherwise showed absolutely no reaction.
Her nipples were still hard little points, fleshy pink pebbles adorning her gorgeous Musalmān breasts.
To My amazement, she had only the faintest of tan lines indicating that she had ever worn a bra, which made me wonder if she was a regular user of tanning beds or if perhaps she took advantage of the tall fencing surrounding the tiny back yard of the house she shared with Taħsīn Jalāl Sheikħ to tan topless or even fully nude.
Once again, I became consciously aware of my own extreme arousal.
I was also consciously aware of how much I wanted to touch her in an intimate way.
Although my hands had done the actual deed, she had bared a significant area of her extremely lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān body to me.
It was so very tempting to reach to her chest and gently squeeze a breast.
Fortunately, I felt society’s call, which caused me to turn my attention to my Uncut Hindu Lund instead.
Carefully, I placed my Uncut Hindu Lund diagonally across her chest, nestling it between her beautiful breasts, my hand inherently brushing against one of her swells and noting its warmth.
My eyes locked with hers, and she smiled slightly as if attempting to reassure me that she did not mind the contact from me, her older Durgesh darling, her Hindu Piyā, Hindu Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt, Musalmān ħasīnāon kā Hindu Kħasam, Hindu husband of the Musalmān Beauties!
I rose from the bed, retrieved the camera, and was once again at work.
Ghausiyah Muħammad Yåqūb looked so beautiful, so vulnerable, and so selfless.
And amazingly, she appeared to be completely at peace despite being bound to the bedposts with my Uncut Hindu Lund draped across her naked chest.
Then she kissed and licked it passionately.
It wasn’t easy not to blast premature.
I smiled and fucked her mouth enjoying now it very much.
Ghausiyah Muħammad Yåqūb sucked me for hours.
Ghausiyah Muħammad Yåqūb swallowed it all gratefully indebted to me.
Then she smiled at me.
“Thank you, Durgesh darling, méré Hindu Piyā, Hindu Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt, hum Musalmān ħasīnāon ké Hindu Kħasam, Hindu husband of us Musalmān Beauties! Now please untie me and fuck me wildly until I exist.”*
I fucked Ghausiyah Muħammad Yåqūb in every position she requested me to fuck her.
Not on that day only.
It went on for complete one month nonstop.
She declared it was our honeymoon and she was my new Live in Relationship Partner now.
I granted her request.
I had to.
She was also a hyper sexual and perhaps only I was the suitable sex partner for her too.*
“We offered Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah a one o’clock appointment, thinking that might make her back out. She understood Kħadījah Muħammad and me both very well. She was the young adult Musalmān Beauty that herself raped me. She…”
I smiled myself somewhat proudly, somewhat impishly, somewhat incensed.
“Okay, Almighty, how many?”
She squeezed her lower lip strongly with her upper teeth to the extent that even some blood came out from her lower lip.
“Why are you asking?”
“How many? Don’t try to avoid the question as I won’t allow you to do so.”
“I can understand what you want to say.” I held her nude waist strongly, pulled out my Uncut Hindu Cock once again out of ACP Suraiyā Jamāl’s still much younger Makkan Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt until only its head was inside.
She squeezed her lower lip strongly once more, with her upper teeth to the extent that even some blood came out from her lower lip once again.
Then I was repeating my action again and again more and more ferociously.
“Sālī, yes, they are countless. So what?”
“My poor Durgesh darling, méré béchāré Hindu Piyā, poor Hindu Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt, hum Musalmān ħasīnāon ké béchāré Hindu Kħasam, poor Hindu husband of us Musalmān Beauties!” ACP Suraiyā Jamāl teased me smiling.
“Shut up.” I said, “Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah grabbed at the appointment.”
“Contact her. Maybe she has found out something till now.”
“You are right.” I said.
I tried my mobile.
It showed the network busy.
There was a telephone too.
I was still behind her fucking her passionately now.
I called Kħadījah Muħammad.
“Hi, Kħadījah Muħammad, anything new, Mérī Jān?”
“Are you fucking someone?”
“Yes,” I smiled proudly, “How the hell did you know?”
“The ferocious sounds of your consummating sex with her, those of the ferocious sexual assaults and penetrations are clearly audible even here on the phone.”
Kħadījah Muħammad laughed.
“Moderate your sexual assaults on her. Otherwise she would be incapable to assist you as a competent police officer. Your Uncut Hindu Prick is too strong to accommodate when you are in this mood.”
“You are right. Hell, everyone is right perhaps at present, except me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing. Never mind. Is there anything new?”
“None, sorry. Haven’t been able to get a thing.” Kħadījah Muħammad said, “I find there are three branches of Ruqayyah Fātimah Flower Shops, each with a separate phone. I’ve been calling them in turn.”
“Would he really help us? You are fucking his entire Musalmān houseladies. Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is his real daughter and she is fucking you openly in public places too. Imām Muħammad Ħasan might feel himself extremely humiliated.”
“Yaar, I don’t think Imām Muħammad Ħasan is such an idiot that he can’t differentiate between what I’m doing and what his real daughter Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, the ultramodern Kħātūn-e-Jannat razī Allāhu tålā ånhā, is. It’s Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan fucking me openly in public places. I’m not.”
“And if Imām Muħammad Ħasan refused to understand his daughter is actually a nudist feminist, then…”
“Let’s cross that bridge when we reach it. Why think negative prematurely?”
“You are right.”
“If you get an address, call police headquarters direct.”
“Ask for Inspector Pratāp.” I went on, “Tell him to rush some radio officers out to Shaguftah Rashīd’s apartment, and break in the door if they have to.”
I hung up.
Balancing herself on her knees and one of her elbows, she punched her mobile.
I looked down and saw something green under the table on which the telephone rested.
“Handkerchief?” I commented.
“Nope!” I snapped, “you gave it to me before studying it yourself optimum. There are three letters embroidered in it: FMA.”
“Let’s not jump on conclusions.”
“Okay. Imām Muħammad Ħasan came in Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club just now, according to what the girl says. He may have been there some time. Protesting you, Imām Muħammad Ħasan might have decided not to bother with a call. I’m having her put Imām Muħammad Ħasan on… Hello, Imām Muħammad Ħasan. This is ACP Suraiyā Jamāl. I left word for you to call police headquarters. Why didn’t you do it? Not cooperating with the police?… Well, isn’t it funny that you just got there as I was telephoning?”
There was an interval.
During that the receiver made noises.
“Well,” She interrupted abruptly, “never mind all the explanations. I know, because your real daughter Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is a nudist feminist, she deliberately uses to have sex with Durgesh, openly in public places, to humiliate you Pseudo Musalmīn. You feel humiliated. But Durgesh isn’t responsible for what your legally adult daughter does to humiliate you Pseudo Musalmīn.”
The receiver again made noises.
“I don’t let you interrupt my police investigation. Your matter with Durgesh and your nudist feminist daughter Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan… She isn’t nudist feminist? Well, I don’t agree with you… Never mind, listen to me. I want to know where the hell Shaguftah Rashīd lives… Don’t threaten me with the high approach of Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club. I know despite all the vulgarity in its name, Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club is a legal international organization. So what?”
The receiver made noises once more.
Then she said rather curtly.
“Shaguftah Rashīd must have a residence somewhere. She is one of the major shareholders of your internationally esteemed Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club. You must have the addresses of your entire shareholders, major or minor. I want to get to Shaguftah Rashīd right away. What’s that? You are forgetting that you are talking with the ACP responsible for law and order here at Ved Nagar. Well, why the hell don’t you open the bloody safe immediately and look it up? Imām Muħammad Ħasan, I’m not pleased with your cooperation with us… Yes, please do that and inform me immediately. You may report it to the President of India himself. I don’t give a damn when I’m investigating something. Inform me first and then report my behavior to any highest authority you damn please. I won’t wait very much.”*
“The bloody scoundrel is covering up something now, I know. Imām Muħammad Ħasan was pouring explanations and apologies. That’s a sure sign. The bastard is so communal that he was trying to annoy even me with repeating the club’s dastardly name Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club more and more even unnecessarily to feel me humiliated myself. He was trying to impress me that the ever aggressive ever sullying Hindus and their ever horniest Musalmān Beauties have named the club such reprehensible.”
“I understand.” I said gravely, “That’s the reason the Pseudo Islamic Countries have named the club internationally deliberately. They want no Hindu Musalmīn itteħād, no Hindu Muslim Unity anywhere. This name is so humiliating to Musalmīn that even the utmost moderate Musalmīn feel most humiliated and start hating Hindus and their horniest Musalmān Beauties, who otherwise never bother even to give a damn thought to such undignified matters.”
“I think we are on the right track.”
“Let’s hope so.”
“The Western businesspersons are also donating these Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Clubs.”
“Sure, why not?” I commented dryly, “What the hell else we can expect from the persons who divided India when they were kicked out from there, by then Hindu Muslim Unity? Of course they are patronizing these Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Clubs internationally, providing them immense monetary support as well as legal support too.”
“Yes, hello. Isn’t Shaguftah Rashīd one of your major shareholders?… Well, where can you find out?… Imām Muħammad Ħasan, are you sure about that?… Don’t threat me you rascal. Do you want me to arrest you?… Yes,…yes,…Call President of USA, Jacqueline Lincoln, herself, to support you and your dastardly named ‘thoroughly legal’ Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club. She sleeps with Durgesh. Do you understand, impotent?… Go ahead. Try to harm me as much as your entire anti humanity machinery can ever do…Now listen you scoundrel, this is important.”
“The impotent bastard is threatening me with the unconditional support of USA to Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club internationally.”
“Sure,” I said sharply, “why not? He wants you to arrest him so that they can make it an international issue. It would bring the name of the club internationally in headlines, disrupting Hindu Muslim Unity everywhere. Can’t you see? They are using the most ancient rotten policy of such immoral diplomats: ‘Divide and Rule’.”
“What should I do?”
“Don’t lose your mind. He is deliberately irritating you.”
“Yes, I think you are right.”
“Don’t arrest the impotent. He wants to get arrested. Try to act big hearted and ever forgiving.”
“Idiot, I’m not telling you to really forgive him. Play smarter since he is playing smart.”
Her most beautiful eyes widened as my point dawned on her.
“You…you are right. He is deliberately annoying me.”
“Now you understand the game. Play it smarter. Threaten him as much as you want to. But never arrest him. Never forget his Abbū, Imām Muħammad Yåqūb, is a senator now in USA.”
“You are responsible for law and order here in Ved Nagar. Aren’t you?”
“I don’t want a run around.” She said in the phone, “All right, all right, you haven’t any idea… Now, wait a minute. Does Shaguftah Rashīd have a social security number?… I see… Now listen, I may want to get you again. Don’t leave Ved Nagar without informing me personally. SMS me your personal mobile number so that I can call you whenever I damn please… Your Senator Abbū in USA can be made incapable to protect you if needed, my child. Don’t try to annoy your Ammījān ACP Suraiyā Jamāl. You would regret it.”*