Āmnah Azhar laughed impishly,
In Surah (56)AI-Waqi`ah the same thing has been described as Kitab-um-Maknun (the hidden and preserved Book) and in Surah (85)AI-Buruj 22 as Lauh-i Mahfuz (the Preserved Tablet), that is, the Tablet whose writing cannot be effaced, which is secure from every kind of interference.
By saying that the Qur’an is inscribed in Umm al-Kitab, attention has been drawn to an important truth.
Different Books had been revealed by Allah in different ages to different Prophets for the guidance of different nations in different languages, but aII these Books invited mankind to one and the same Faith: they regarded one and the same thing as the Truth; they presented one and the same criterion of good and evil; they propounded the same principles of morality and civilization; in short, they brought one and the same Din (Religion).
The reason was that their source and origin was the same, only words were different; they had the same meaning and theme which is inscribed in a Source Book with Allah, and whenever there was a need, He raised a Prophet and sent down the same meaning and subject-matter clothed in a particular diction according to the environment and occasion.
Had Allah willed to raise the Prophet Muhammad (upon whom be His peace) in another nation instead of the Arabs, He would have sent down the same Qur’an in the language of that nation.”’
“What do you want to say actually, Āmnah Azhar?”
“Don’t tell me that you didn’t understand.” Āmnah Azhar smiled, “I would never believe. You are too wise that no one can believe you didn’t understand.”
“And why does Allah need to keep this Source Book with him?”
“Simple, so that there could never be any alteration Allah doesn’t want in the Source Book.” Āmnah Azhar smiled triumphantly, “Stupid question. I never thought you can’t understand even such a simple necessity.”
“I see.” I smiled patiently, “So, you think Allah can save this Source Book, Alkitāb, from any unwanted alteration only if it’s with Him? As soon as it’s out of His exclusive possession, Allah is, Shanno Mitrah, never capable to keep it safe from it? You really think Allah is that much incapable, Shanno Mitrah sham Varuñah shanno bhavatvaryamā!”*
Her partner and Al Samīnah Al Faraħ had just broken up.
It wasn’t that big of a deal, but she had probably been the one Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was most ready to settle down with.
They’d been together for a year.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ had thought that they were on a great track that had a promising future.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was optimistic that within the coming years there would be equal rights and at least general acceptance of their lifestyle.
However, when Al Samīnah Al Faraħ told her that she didn’t think that Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was truly a “lesbian”, she took offense.
It didn’t matter that Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was genuinely attracted to her, or that they had great chemistry.
In the end, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ wasn’t “real”.
Her bisexuality was a problem and it brought to an end what seemed so bright only days before.
As a result, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ ended up back home over New Year’s Day weekend.
That’s kind of how Al Samīnah Al Faraħ got into the situation that she currently found herself in.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ was thinking that Al Samīnah Al Faraħ would just get some time away from the pressures of office and the break up and take a breather.
Her sisters, normally her support crew, were off enjoying their own lives in different parts of the world and were probably out working it with someone special for the big January 1.
Not Al Samīnah Al Faraħ.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ would just be home alone with me.
That’s the other part of her situation, I.
Despite being extremely loyal to the Pseudo Islam and Kashmir valley, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ loved me to death, but sometimes I was a bit over mature.
Growing up with a coop immensely full of hens, I learned almost everything about them.
Three daughters and their Ammī.
Naturally, I got quite clued in.
When Al Samīnah Al Faraħ asked to come over for the holiday, I had promised her a fun care-free time.
And I had delivered.
I managed to take her mind off her break up, her ex, and getting acclimated to a life of singleness all over again.
Course, I managed to do that by getting us both smashed.
Al Samīnah Al Faraħ had driven the hour from office to the house Al Samīnah Al Faraħ had grown up in and had arrived to find a sizable amount of alcoholic beverages and liquors spread out across the counter tops.
Never surrendered to me for keeping Alcohol out of their life.
Sometimes, Al Samīnah Al Faraħ thought whether Durgesh is really right.
They wanted to establish Islamic supremacy on Hindus either this way or that way.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī was neither nude nor he needed to.
I was nude and serving his extremely beautiful young Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān wife, Āmnah Azhar with my Sixty five years old, utmost experienced, utmost talented, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund penetrating her young Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot profoundly.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī was lying on his back on the bed.
Āmnah Azhar wasn’t alone enjoying his such services.
Al Nādirah Al Ghāzī was the everfirst that used her younger brother’s tongue for it.
Then it was Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī, their Ammī.
Then their beautiful Musalmān houseladies.
His tongue was so expert in this service now that he was more popular among needy beautiful Musalmān houseladies and their beautiful Musalmān ladyfriends as a tongue service provider than as a normal man even.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī even enjoyed our Ashvinātam sexual orgasms when our secretions naturally fell into his open mouth.
I knew their activities were not normal.
After Narendr Modi won the election 2014 and became the 15th Prime Minister of India, Al Nādir Al Ghāzī’s such services were so much in demand that he approached other similar minded Pseudo Musalmīn friends of him and started a regular tongue service providing commercial network.
Shankar Mahāpralayankar, Sidrah Aħmad and Rājesh Rājpūt were approached, and they delightfully congratulated Al Nādir Al Ghāzī and his similar cuckold Musalmān friends for providing such superb services to Hindus and their Musalmān beloveds.
“It’s a totally new approach. Of course, Durgesh, Imām Muħammad Ħasan, and similar over humane Hindus would never appreciate it, but the Hindu society is not made of such ever impractical persons only.”
“Let’s get you ready,” Lākhan Singh said.
He stood in front of Shamīmah Iftikħār and expertly pulled her nightgown over her head.
Shamīmah Iftikħār couldn’t believe this was happening.
Now Shamīmah Iftikħār was breathing so hard it felt like panting.
Lākhan Singh put his hands on her ankles.
“Relax,” he said.
Then he propped her legs up on the couch so Shamīmah Iftikħār was spread wide open.
Shamīmah Iftikħār ached for release.
Shamīmah Iftikħār had already gotten herself going before, now this was something out of a fantasy.
Shamīmah Iftikħār tried to grab his head and keep it there.
He took her hand and stepped aside.
Shamīmah Iftikħār realized someone was standing there- no, five people.
The crowd outside was now in the house.
He was maybe twenty-five with a smiling, eager face.
Brown hair, average build, and naked.
Shamīmah Iftikħār stared at it.
4-5 inches long.
Her stomach felt tight, her hands shook a little.
He stroked himself for a few seconds, eyes locked on her naked skin.
Shamīmah Iftikħār saw a tiny drop of precum on the tip of its head.
Shamīmah Iftikħār closed her eyes, trying to control her breathing.
This is what Shamīmah Iftikħār wanted, right?
But Shamīmah Iftikħār can’t!
Not like this.
Her breath stopped.
Shamīmah Iftikħār felt Lākhan Singh squeeze her hand again.
Well, that’s what they said was at stake!
Vīr Vikram Pratāp pushed all the way in, then slowly started fucking Shamīmah Iftikħār in a steady rhythm.
Each one felt different.
Each experience was amazing.
Rājesh Rājpūt laughed.
“We Pakistani Sunni Musalmān women love Durgesh, but we hate you, Rājesh Rājpūt! Shankar Mahāpralayankar! Sidrah Aħmad! You are crazy persons. Durgesh is of course radically different from you communal animal Hindus.”
Shankar Mahāpralayankar laughed.
“Rājesh Rājpūt, Shamīmah Iftikħār, the great Pakistani Sunni Musalmān politician loves Durgesh, the Anant Muslimātchod Hindu, instead of us. Durgesh is really a miracle. Entire beautiful Musalmān houseladies want to get his Sixty five years old, utmost experienced, utmost talented, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund into their Musalmān Choots without any single exception even.”
“Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan Bājī and her ever enthusiast Young Musalmān Lady Brigade is managing it all. they cunningly, shrewdly and intelligently plan to advertise the fantastic attributes of Durgesh’s Sixty five years old, utmost experienced, utmost talented, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund. I see even every beautiful Pakistani Sunni Musalmān Choot is crazy to get it inside her.”*
It was still dark outside when I opened my eyes.
My Sixty five years old, utmost experienced, utmost talented, ever extraordinary Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund was still buried entirely into her still miraculously tight Panjvaqtah Namāzī Pakistani Sunni Musalmān Choot.
Alas, Muħammad Naåīm couldn’t give her what I could, neither money, nor sex.
I smiled to myself as I looked at it.
It was the 3rd night of our ten-day vacation in Kashmir valley.
It was the reason Sāliħah Faisal separated herself from Muħammad Naåīm.
“It’s wrong. It’s a sin in Islam.” Muħammad Naåīm had refused Sāliħah Faisal outright.
“Well,” Sāliħah Faisal thundered, “I’m your wife, and I love it.”
Muħammad Naåīm was startled
“Isn’t my ass extraordinarily beautiful?”
“Of course, it is. Of course, it is. But it doesn’t mean…”
“What do you mean ‘Why?’? It’s wrong. It’s a sin.” Muħammad Naåīm was quite surprised.
“I hinted you before our marriage.” Sāliħah Faisal said curtly.
“You said you’d see to it.”
“That’s right, Sāliħah Faisal, but…”
“No but, you promised me. I need it.”
Muħammad Naåīm didn’t oblige her and it brought Sāliħah Faisal ultimately to me.
Still smiling, I quietly slid out of bed and went into the bathroom to relieve myself.
Turning the light back off before I opened the bathroom door into the bedroom, as not to disturb Sāliħah Faisal, I quietly grabbed my robe from the chaise at the foot of the bed and slipped it on.
Opening the door of our room, I quietly crept out and walked down the hall of our dull jheel side condo.
HVSI owned several beautiful enormous structures in Kashmir valley.
I always enjoyed this time of the day.
I enjoyed watching the sunrise before the world awoke and got its day started.
Making sure as not to make any noise and wake the kids up, I put some coffee on.
Once the kids were up our day would be nonstop.
Well, at least when the boys woke up.
My boys from Sāliħah Faisal, Devesh and Shubhesh, were 11 and 9.
Her oldest was Sāliħah Faisal’s daughter, Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm.
She was 19.
Once my coffee was ready, I poured myself a cup and walked to the sliding glass door that lead out to the deck.
I walked out on to the deck, quietly slid the door and closed behind me.
I pulled a chair close to the edge of the deck and sat down in it.
Promptly propping my feet up on the railing in front of me.
I inhaled deeply the aromatic aroma of my coffee before enjoying the first sip.
I was a man at peace.
I owned my own consulting firms under HVSI and it made a good living for my entire families.
My friend, Muħammad Naåīm’s wonderful extremely beautiful wife, of 22 years, Sāliħah Faisal, was a wedding consultant.
Between the two of us, our incomes afforded us opportunities I would have loved to have as a child myself.
As I reflected, I thought about our children.
Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm was 19 and was my girl to the core.
Her own Abbū, Muħammad Naåīm, was a loser in her eyes.
She was sympathetic for him, yet he wasn’t her hero, I was.
A loser can get sympathies, but none wants to be as him.
He was ‘poor Abbū’, as far as Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm was concerned.
She had graduated high school the year prior and was just completing her first year of junior college.
I was so proud of her.
No one could deny that Sāliħah Faisal’s oldest was a beauty indeed.
With her stunning looks, she had landed her first modeling gig at sixteen.
At 5’7, she had chocolate brown eyes and they were framed by long spiky lashes.
Her hair that hung just at her shoulder blades was thick and a light honey brown color.
It complemented her flawless creamy coffee complexion.
What made it worse, from a fatherly perspective, was how curvaceously shaped her body was.
Although she modeled, she was no string bean.
I had no idea her exact chest size or clothing size, but I did know that she had very full breasts, a curvy waist and an ass, that when she wore a bikini made men do double takes.
This didn’t bring comfort to me, however.
That was the baby girl they were ogling.
Nevertheless, what surprised me even more was how comfortable Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm was with her body.
Not that I wanted Sāliħah Faisal’s daughter, to have a distorted body image, but she was comfortable to the point that around the house she wore things that Sāliħah Faisal would have to remind her to cover up because she had brothers.
At the shore of the jheel, it was even worse.
The back of her bikini bottom, if one could call it that did little to hide her wonderful Pakistani Sunni Musalmān assets.
I always teased her and called her double trouble because she had brains and beauty both.
I would tell her she would be a formidable match for any man.
I didn’t worry as much about Devesh and Shubhesh as I did Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm.
Devesh was more a rough and tumble boy, whereas Shubhesh was the more sensitive one.
I chalked that up to the fact that Shubhesh was definitely an Ammī’s boy through and through.
Sāliħah Faisal babied him almost to a fault.
That was the one area Sāliħah Faisal and I, as parents, disagreed with each other the most.
I felt that she babied Shubhesh too much and was making him too dependent on her.
Sāliħah Faisal felt that I never came to her defense where Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm was concerned.
Sāliħah Faisal and Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm butted heads, the older Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm got.
That, however, doesn’t mean that they didn’t have a good mother daughter relationship, but Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm’s fiercely independent spirit definitely had its moments when it clashed with Sāliħah Faisal’s over protective mothering.
When Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm turned 18 and started being a bit less conservative, in her manner of dress, that was when they really started butting heads.
Less conservative meaning her clothes tended to accentuate that body that I was so cautious for her about.
However, I believed Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm to be an adult and she should be allowed to make her own decisions.
I was so lost in my musings that I didn’t seem to notice the time passing and the sky was just starting to lighten.
As my eyes scanned out on the shore of the jheel, I noticed someone out there.
My, I thought, someone’s out here even earlier than I am.
As my eyes focused, the person appeared to be maybe doing yoga out on the shore of the jheel.
It was hard for me to tell.
I leaned a bit forward in my chair and let my eyes focus.
It appeared to be a woman.
She was on her back with her legs tucked under her.
Her back was arched though pushing her chest high into the sky.
Her arms were stretched out beside her and her head resting on the sand.
The light in the sky was lightening up enough that I was starting to see a little clearer.
My eyes widened and my mouth gaped open as I discerned two things at once.
One, the woman wasn’t wearing a bikini top.
I could clearly see the definition of her full breasts.
Her nipples pert and pointing in the air.
But secondly, and more importantly, that woman wasn’t just any woman, it was Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm.
I was dumbfounded.
Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm was topless and doing yoga on the shore of the dull jheel.
As if completely oblivious to me sitting there, Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm got up from the position she’d been lying in.
She stood with her back to me.
I suddenly remembered Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan.
Was Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm doing the same thing?
I, still sitting there now saw that she was not just topless but bottomless as well.
Something in my brain told me to get up and go in the house.
However, I sat there almost paralyzed.
I’d seen Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm’s butt before, but covered a little at least with a bikini bottom.
But now, with her back to me I had a completely unobstructed view, and the view was incredible.
Her cheeks were plump and full. The kind that a man could lose my load over doing her from behind.
I felt a distinct reaction to this thought.
My face didn’t froze, in horror, as I realized looking at Sāliħah Faisal’s daughter’s ass was giving me a hard on.
It was normal for me now.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s Just Eighteen Just Adult and Al Jihād fil Durgesh fī sabīlillāh movements had made my brain convinced that it was normal for me to lust and have sex with even Just Eighteen Just Adult Musalmān girls.
If I didn’t oblige them, they turned out to be my bitterest enemy.
While if I obliged them, they were my everbest friends instead.
“It’s a delicate medical matter to take a cherry of a Just Eighteen Just Adult girl.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan argued, “It’s better the everbest sex therapist must do it, instead of an immensely inexperienced new learner.”
I wasn’t startled to find out that their blind followers and fans immediately grabbed it as the utmost important medical necessity.
Without turning back, Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm walked toward the water.
I watched as Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm walked further into the surf.
The further she walked, the more of her body was hidden as it submerged in the water.
I made my getaway into the house when I watched her dunk herself under the water.
Almost in a daze, I made my way back to Sāliħah Faisal and my room. Sāliħah Faisal was just waking up as I walked in.
She smiled at me as I came through the door.
“Hey stud,” she said suggestively, all the while smiling.
Momentarily undecided, I had to pull my thoughts together.
“Good morning sexy,” I said to Sāliħah Faisal as I crawled on to our bed.
Once I settled myself beside Sāliħah Faisal, Sāliħah Faisal pulled herself up on top of my lap and straddled me.
She ground herself against me and was pleased at the reaction she got. Little did she know, though, my reaction wasn’t necessarily due to her grinding against me.
I hadn’t quite recovered from seeing Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm.
I saw the glint in Sāliħah Faisal’s eyes and I knew what she wanted.
I made the gesture to slide my pajama bottoms down and Sāliħah Faisal raised herself up enough for me to do so.
My eyes closed and my breath inhaled as I felt my friend, Muħammad Naåīm’s wonderful extremely beautiful wife, wrap around me.
Opening my eyes, I looked at Sāliħah Faisal and put my index finger in front of my mouth in a “shhh” motion.
Whispering, Sāliħah Faisal asked, “why?”
“”We don’t need the kids to hear,” I whispered back.
“They’re asleep, they’ll never know,” Sāliħah Faisal whispered back with a bit more volume.
I furrowed my brow at her,
“No, they’re not. Ħamd Muħammad Naåīm is awake.”
Sāliħah Faisal’s eyes widened,
She loved how rigid and hard I was as she slammed herself down harder and harder upon it.
Sāliħah Faisal kept this motion up as if endlessly.
Until my eyes signaled to her that, I was about to cum.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Poor Al Nādir Al Ghāzī
My car followed Al Nādir Al Ghāzī’s convertible across the bridge below San Ysidro.
“You’ve cheated me.” Āmnah Azhar had said immense coldly, “You had expressly told me that you were completely free to marry anyone. Now you are telling me an entirely different story.”
“Āmnah Azhar !”
“Please, listen to me, Āmnah Azhar ,”
“You listen to me, Al Nādir Al Ghāzī.” Āmnah Azhar said bitterly, “You aren’t free to marry anyone. Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb is still your legally married wife. She has charged you with marrying me illegally. I don’t want any part of it. No illegal action from myself. I’m a law-abiding citizen and I want to remain a law-abiding citizen. I’m not your wife. I don’t want to be your wife, moreover, you two timing double crosser cheat!”
I watched him gravely.
“Shame on you, Al Nādir Al Ghāzī.”
“Shame on me! Shame on me? You are snatching away my wife legally, and shame on me? Not on you?”
“You are crazy,” Āmnah Azhar charged him coldly.
“I’m not crazy. I’m a damnfool.” Al Nādir Al Ghāzī said coldly, “I thought he loved my still extremely beautiful Ammī, Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī so much that when she forced him to protect me, he rushed after us to protect us.”
“He is sixty-five years old, entire nine years more than twice your own age.” Al Nādir Al Ghāzī laughed ironically.
“How do you know?”
“What do you mean?”
“Only seven years older than you?”
“His knowledge, his experiences, his achievements contradict it. He is the lifelong Chairman of HVSI, an organization that’s the highest power on earth now. None can achieve so much in his thirty five years age.”
“That’s what makes Durgesh unique. He is an extraordinary unique man.”
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī laughed ironically.
“Join his endless Ħaram if you are adamant to do it,”
“He is capable to protect anyone he decides to. You never respected him, yet he came to protect us because your Ammī wanted him to do it. He loves his women irrespective of anything. It’s a pride to be his woman.”
“Bitch!” Al Nādir Al Ghāzī said scornfully.
Āmnah Azhar laughed brutally melodically and kissed me on my lips.
I could not help my immensely natural erection.
The lights of Tijuana below the far end of the bridge were an aura against which the steady stars for the moment pitted their brilliance in vain.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī, now alone in the car, piloted his car down the wide main street and into the parking place where there was opportunity for me to run my car in beside his.
Āmnah Azhar and I got out.
“Well, here we are. Al Nādir Al Ghāzī and you are now husband and wife once more,”
“Once more!” Āmnah Azhar laughed ironically.
“That’s right,” I smiled.
“And you think I’d be glad on this on and off marriage that it’s once more on?”
“I’ve already declared my decision. I want to be protected by the selfless protector that rushed to protect my ever cheater ex illegal husband, despite the fact that he hated his protector.”
I looked into her extremely beautiful eyes.
“That’s your final decision?”
“What do you think? Am I foolish enough not to compare you stepfather and stepson with each other? He cheated me even while I married him, and you protect him despite he doesn’t respect you. I can see who the true diamond is and who the bloody glass imitation is only.”
Āmnah Azhar suddenly was on her knees.
She pulled my zip without any ultimatum, brought my excellent Uncut Hindu Lund out, kissed it with immense love, licked it and then swallowed the sixty-five years old utmost experienced Uncut Hindu Lund into her beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī young Musalmān mouth.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī was startled.
He watched her dumbfounded.
And it was his honeymoon with her.
What an irony.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī said irritably,
“Dammit, tell me what I’m up against.”
“That even I don’t know exactly,” I said gravely, “You should have acted smarter. Right now, Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb holds the every trump card against you.”
“She cheated me,”
“You should have been more careful,”
“I understand, now.”
“It is locking the stable after the horse is stolen.”
“I’m going to find out as much as I can.” I said, “The best way to spike Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb’s scheme on these proxies is to have enough friendly stockholders there in person to control the meeting. A proxy is always revoked when the person who gave it is present at the meeting.”
“That means you’ve got to give me a list of big stockholders who are friendly and I’ve got to phone them.”
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī shook his head emphatically in negation.
“I’m sorry. That won’t do. You’ve to contact with female stockholders personally and fuck them in bribery. They are crazy to get your Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Lund inside their Musalmān Choot. They would certainly come with you personally if you fuck them, but…”
“You are sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. What do you think; I don’t know my own stockholders?”
“Yet, you still blame me that I fuck the beautiful Musalmān houseladies and break their otherwise entirely excellent home.” I said ironically, “If your Ammī, Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī were not my Live in Relationship Partner…”
“I’ve prepared papers for injunction. I’ll file them in court tomorrow morning if I have to. However, getting your friendly stockholders to attend the meeting in person is the best way.”
“They are not friendly actually to me. They are friendly to Ammī actually. Ammī promised them ultimate intimacy with you. If you just fuck them, they’d do anything for you, not for me. Sorry, but that’s the naked truth. Our womankind is shamelessly ravenous for you. That’s why we are jealous of you tremendously. It’s natural. You can’t blame us for our natural reaction.”
“I had detectives scouring the country for you.” I said curtly, “One of them finally located a filling station attendant in La Jolla who remembered your convertible and said you’d been asking about a hotel. I drove down.”
She looked at me gratefully and started swallowing my entire Hindu semen.
It was more than she was anticipating.
“She was hungry.” Al Nādir Al Ghāzī said sarcastically, “I think she has more than enough breakfast now. It paid her to be famished more beneficially.”
Āmnah Azhar smiled at him triumphantly proudly.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī averted his eyes acknowledging his immense defeat.
“You folks start on.” He said, “I want to put the top on the car.”
He unfastened the fastenings that held the cover of the top in place.
Āmnah Azhar suddenly brought her face close to mine and said in a low voice,
“MåshāAllah, SubħānAllah, you are too strong, too resourceful. All my fears have gone from me now.”
“Thank you,” I smiled, “You are my woman now. Leave your every problem to me and forget them for ever.”
“You are too wonderful. That was a great blowjob.”
“My pleasure, my master.”
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī raised the top of the convertible and came to join us.
“There’s a restaurant two doors down.” I told him, “You can find a place to stay here tonight. Tomorrow, you can go on down to Ensenada if you want.”
“When can I come back from Ensenada?”
“And where does that leave you, smart bitch?” Al Nādir Al Ghāzī asked furiously.
Āmnah Azhar smiled triumphantly.
“Saiyān bhayé kotwāl, ab dar kāhé kā?” she raised her thumb at me, “Ask my lawyer about anything legal that pertains to me.”
“In the United States,” Al Nādir Al Ghāzī said bitterly, “you still are an interloper irrespective of however much you fuck Durgesh. A correspondent, a mistress, a woman living without legal status, in a state of sin. Here in Mexico only, you are my lawfully wedded wife.”
“He sounds as if it’s the damnedest thing for you.” I put my palm on her beautiful buttocks.
“Is it really?” she looked into my eyes.
“Never for my women.” I winked cunningly at her, “I said forget everything, enjoy your honeymoon, not with your husband however, with me, instead.”*
She smiled her thanks at me.
To his utter surprise, he was enjoying his humiliation more than even Āmnah Azhar was enjoying it herself.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī was furious at himself.
Why the hell he never feel humiliated?
He didn’t object why his Ammī is doing it.
Instead, he followed his Ammī, Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī, hiding himself and his activities.
He watched us shamelessly when his Ammī seduced me and ultimately I fucked her in almost entire possible and impossible sex positions.
He was thrilled instead of feeling humiliated.
He kept watching us ever whenever his Ammī, Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī, had sex with me.
He always enjoyed it.
He never felt humiliated.
When his Ammī caught Al Nādir Al Ghāzī watching us having sex, she punished him immediately.
“You pervert, you enjoy watching your Ammī having sex with the ever infamous Anant Muslimātchod Hindu? Okay, now, lick my Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt, Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass and clean our secretions with your pervert tongue.”
“Pervert boy,” Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī rebuked him, “You enjoy cleaning me thus, instead of being humiliated. It wasn’t a punishment to you. You enjoyed it more. It was a reward to you instead.”
“Allah, this Al Nādirah Al Ghāzī girl, Durgesh, we have to do something of her.”
“Not possible,” Al Nādir Al Ghāzī smiled ironically, “Al Nādirah Al Ghāzī Bājī has a tighter Pussy than you have and she is providing her Nanads, sisters, cousins and her other immensely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān girlfriends to Durgesh to fuck them.”
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī smiled politely.
“I suggest one thing, Ammī. You yourself have a large number of beautiful Musalmān ladyfriends. They are themselves crazy to fuck Durgesh too. Why not complete with Al Nādirah Al Ghāzī Bājī in pleasing Durgesh sexually more and more?”
Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī was dumbfounded at his suggestion.
She didn’t dare to start it, but her own daughter, Al Nādirah Al Ghāzī, started it.
Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī had no option except to compete with her own daughter, Al Nādirah Al Ghāzī, her younger version actually.
Allah, doesn’t he have any self-respect left even infinitesimal?
Why the hell he enjoys his own humiliation so much?
Nevertheless, he wasn’t alone in enjoying his own humiliation, he knew.
The entire Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah, being established by Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, her Seven Movements and her entire Young Musalmān Lady Brigade consists of the same self-respect less Pseudo Musalmīn.
Moreover, they are increasing in numbers day by day.
Is Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan right?
I hugged Āmnah Azhar smiling triumphantly.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī understood fully what the hell was happening with him and why.
Yet, they never wanted to acknowledge it.
Every one of them had their different reasons.
Yet, the outcome was the same ever.
They loved their own humiliation.
Actually, to be more sincere, they were obsessed with it.
The entire Pseudo Musalmīn were paying the cost of Karbala now, ever since Yazīd malåūn lånat ålayhi massacred the true Musalmīn and forced the true Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān Beauties to please Hindus sexually to humiliate the Mujāhidāt-e-Islam.
It was a tradition among Pseudo Musalmīn to humiliate the mujahidin-o-Mujāhidāt-e-Islam to massacre the mujahidin and force the true Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān Beauties to please Hindus sexually to humiliate the Mujāhidāt-e-Islam.
I smiled at Āmnah Azhar ,
“Al Nādir Al Ghāzī is correct, however, darling. Such are the ramifications, implications, of the International law. When Al Nādir Al Ghāzī goes to the United States, he is married to Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb. He is also guilty of illegal marriage, probably. Yet, when you are here in Mexico, you are lawfully wedded to Al Nādir Al Ghāzī, and Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb is nothing more than an ex-wife who has no legal status.”
“And that’s the most absurd damn thing!” Āmnah Azhar blazed, “I naturally can’t build a big house, with the International Border running through the bedroom.”
“You bastard,” Āmnah Azhar shouted, “you don’t have any moral right to tease me any more.”
“Yet, I still have the legal right, my dear wife,” Al Nādir Al Ghāzī smiled cunningly.
“Al Nādir Al Ghāzī, don’t compel me to do something more drastic with you. Wallah, I’d never hesitate. You have done such an injustice with me that…”
“What do the hell more drastic you want to do with me? You’ve already sucked my sixty-five years old Hindu stepfather in my very presence humiliating me tremendously.”
“I can make you to watch Durgesh fuck me and lick me clean of our sexual secretions, you moron.” She shouted.
“Well, that’s nothing new to me.” Al Nādir Al Ghāzī laughed challenging Āmnah Azhar , “Ever since my childhood I’m doing it for my sisters, my Ammī, etcetera. It would be more shameful to you, my dear wife, not to me. I dare you. Go ahead.”
Āmnah Azhar was stunned.
She could never expect this amazing revelation from him.”
She was dumbfounded.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī was not even the slightest ashamed of it.
He had revealed it as if it was a trophy for him instead.
Ultimately, she herself changed the subject frigidly.
I led the way to the restaurant.
I ordered large, tender steaks.
When they were finished, I suggested,
“There’s a new hotel I know here, the Kħātūn-e-Jannat. Let’s stay there and tomorrow morning you can give me the names of your female stockholders I’ve to fuck…”
“What do you mean?”
“They have immense hold on my stockholders. If they want my stockholders to be present in person somewhere, my stockholders are entirely incapable to refuse them.”
“You too go with Durgesh.” Āmnah Azhar suggested sarcastically, “After all, who will lick their Musalmān Cunts and gorgeous plump Musalmān ass of the secretions after Durgesh would fuck them to bring your stockholders to the meeting?”
To her sheer surprise, Al Nādir Al Ghāzī beamed to the idea.
“That’s the superb idea. If Dad hasn’t any objection…”
“Stop it!” I said angrily, “You two! Stop humiliating each other.”
Āmnah Azhar and I looked at each other.
“I’ll be damned,” Āmnah Azhar said defeated as if, ultimately.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
I looked at Imāmzādi Ħumayrah Qāzī.
“I know she is right. The humankind dreams, enjoys to dream and never wants to come out of dreams. But it doesn’t mean someone should take its advantage. Neither it’s a tragedy at all.”
“I see,” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled, “so, my ever over moral Hindu husband is angry because one of his infinite Musalmān wives is taking advantage of some eternal fact. If you are right, why isn’t it a tragedy?”
“Because originally every eternal law in the system is there for ‘Janébhyah’, for the people. You are taking advantage of it for yourself and your Young lady Musalmān Brigade.”
“You are quite mistaken, Param Purush.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan said curtly, “Neither my Young lady Musalmān Brigade nor myself do maintain our Sharīr Yantrs, our Body Machines only for our own satisfaction. We do affirmations and transmissions using them. That’s how we converted Saåūdī Årabia into Modern Democratic Årabia and ended anti Hindu rule from India forever. If it isn’t ‘Janébhyah’, for the people, why the hell did you yourself participate in it, and still do?”*
Al Jihad Al Vaqār ostentatiously, flashily, consulted her wristwatch as she entered my office.
“Thought you would never get here, Durgesh.” she said, “Been waiting twenty minutes. Damn it. I don’t like waiting for anyone, not for my de facto husband especially.”
“So it seems,” I said dryly.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār smiled.
“Well, I’m not one of your sex therapy clients, I mean. I’m one of your commandos actually that assist you in fighting against ever insane pseudo Muslim terrorism.”
“You wanted to tell me some things about Al Nādir Al Ghāzī.” I reminded her coldly.
“Your Musalmān stepson isn’t only a terrorist, he is a bigamous criminal as well. He was already married to four beautiful Musalmān wives, when he married me.”
“Oh, come on, Al Jihad Al Vaqār. You are not actually his wife. You are a commando actually to get evidences against Al Nādir Al Ghāzī.”
“But he already has four wives. How the hell under Muslim Personal Law could he marry me? Isn’t his marriage with me void ab initio?”
“Is your marriage with him important?”
“I’m running his business as his wife. If I’m not his wife legally, I can’t inherit his business as well. Isn’t it important?”
“This media empire I control is not mine any more, if my marriage with him is void ab initio.”
“Al Nādir Al Ghāzī can never take the possession of his media empire now, don’t worry.”
“There are complications now.”
“Okay, go ahead. Tell me everything.”
Al Jihad Al Vaqār said gravely.
“Al Nādir Al Ghāzī married a girl named Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb ten years ago. She was a mighty sweet girl then.”
I looked at Al Jihad Al Vaqār.
She hated terrorism, crimes and the anti-human activities of Pseudo Musalmīn right ab initio.
The Pseudo Musalmīn charged Al Jihad Al Vaqār that she was never loyal to Al Nādir Al Ghāzī.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār pretended to love him because she wanted to acquire the hold on the media empire Al Nādir Al Ghāzī owned.
Now she was the owner because I was with her, not because she had any talent herself.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār laughed at the charges.
“Al Nādir Al Ghāzī was completely hypnotized then with Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb’s extraordinary magical Musalmān beauty. Hypnotism is the actually exactly right word for it, Durgesh. Don’t make any mistake about that. As it turned out, Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb herself hated terrorism and crimes as much as I do. Besides, she was a cold, clever, scheming—well, even I hate to use the word that comes in my mind in front of you.”
Al Jihad Al Vaqār looked at me gravely.
“Al Jihad Al Vaqār, love brings out the best in people. That’s why the utmost ancient book on humanity, Ved, has based the system of life, it proposes, on love. That’s why it wants to spread love everywhere through its Family Movement. When love leaves, it frequently happens the best is gone. I would never blame Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb. She did what she did because she loved humanity more than she loved my ever scheming stepson, Al Nādir Al Ghāzī.”
“Al Nādir Al Ghāzī hates you very much.” Al Jihad Al Vaqār said, “He says you deliberately pick up the horniest Musalmān houseladies who are unsatisfied with their ever righteous Musalmān husbands. You fulfill their slutty wishes and—”
“I know. Most of the Pseudo Musalmīn claim it’s the fact. And that’s why they keep losing their ever needy Musalmān womankind to me or other capable Hindus. They blame us Hindus for it. If they had ever tried to find out the fault with in themselves, they would have stopped the wooing of Musalmān Beauties me or other capable Hindus already much before.”
“The Pseudo Musalmīn don’t want to believe anyone else that’s not himself a Pseudo Musalmān.”
“And that’s why the Pseudo Musalmīn are the losers ever.” I smiled curtly.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār smiled forlornly.
“Al Nādir Al Ghāzī says Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb is a holy terror.”
“In what way?” I asked.
“In every way,” Al Jihad Al Vaqār said, “She is—well, she’s a wildcat. You know, that old saying about ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned’.”
“Sure, even Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī created almost everlasting Brāhm Kalp that has mostly Brāhmañ Muslimāt Bachhalyā Brahmkanyā Bachhalyā Brahmāñī couples.”
“Nothing, how long has Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb separated from Al Nādir Al Ghāzī?”
“Don’t you know?”
“Not exactly. It wasn’t as serious a matter then, as it is now.”
“I don’t think the separation had so much to do with it.” Al Jihad Al Vaqār said, “It was when Al Nādir Al Ghāzī married me. Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb couldn’t bear it. She became absolutely insane with rage.”
I watched Al Jihad Al Vaqār.
She was a beautiful Musalmān redhead, with the bluest of blue smart Musalmān eyes.
I could look right down in the depths.
The fair delicate Musalmān skin that goes with a redhead of that type.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār was beautiful.
She was a gem.
Not only physically, but morally as well.
It wasn’t any miracle however.
Pseudo Islam never succeeded in Musalmān womankind to the extent it succeeded in Musalmān mankind.
Yazīd Malåūn needed warriors more than the womankind.
His movement wasn’t a moral movement as the original Islam was.
It was actually now a military movement to spread his Imperialism.
It used Islam, it didn’t follow Islam actually.
On the contrary, the Islam had to follow Yazīd Malåūn and his bandits.
I looked into her beautiful eyes.
“Do you have a woman in your employ about twenty eight or twenty nine, with a good figure, trim, slim waisted, long legged, high breasted, blonde hair, gray eyes…”
“In my employ?” Al Jihad Al Vaqār smiled ironically, “Allah, Durgesh, you make her sound like a Hollywood movie actress.”
“She’s good looking,” I admitted.
“Don’t know anyone,” Al Jihad Al Vaqār shook her head.
“Know anyone by the name of Al Qāsim?”
Al Jihad Al Vaqār thought.
“Yes,” she said, “I had a business deal at one time with a man by the name of Al Qāsim, some sort of a mining deal. I can’t remember much of it. As a successful businesswoman now, I have a lot of things on my mind. The way you talk about her, a man could have helped you more in the matter. A woman isn’t interested in a woman in the way a man is interested in her. However, I wanted to talk to you about my ex co wife, Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb.”
Al Jihad Al Vaqār said,
“Well, Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb and Al Nādir Al Ghāzī separated. Now, Al Nādir Al Ghāzī says there is something strange about that separation. Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb and Al Nādir Al Ghāzī hadn’t been getting along too well.”
“Because they were never serious about getting along too well.” I smiled.
“Pseudo Islam, Pseudo Christianity, Pseudo Judaism, every religion, every ideology has its pseudo version now.”
“What do you want to say?”
“Actually, every person is not living his/her natural scientific life, neither s/he wants to.”
“I’m unable to follow you.”
“The scientific reason behind these separations and divorces is that man is actually a polygamist animal.”
Al Jihad Al Vaqār laughed.
“Glad to hear it from you, a man himself. The womankind is monogamous in this matter.”
“That’s right. Actually, it needs five elements to run a family successfully.”
“Indeed?” Al Jihad Al Vaqār smiled mockingly, “And what the hell are those bloody five elements?”
“The first one is a suitable system of life based on cold and hard eternal scientific facts, Sirātalmustaqīm, Panthā R’tasý.”
Al Jihad Al Vaqār laughed.
“Are you explaining me Al Qur’an Al Karīm? Are you a Maulānā? A muballigh-e-Islam? Sirātalmustaqīm? Allah, I can’t believe it. A Hindu is preaching Islam to a Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān young woman.”*
“I didn’t find any Āyat in Al Qur’an Al Karīm that prohibits an Ahal-e-Al Kitāb to explain the Tafsīlal Kitābi. The problem with you so called Musalmīn is that you neither know nor have the courage enough to believe that we Hindus are actually the Everfirst Musalmīn. And therefore we Hindus have every right to read, study, peruse Al Qur’an Al Karīm and preach it according to Al Kitāb. Al Qur’an Al Karīm says we get double ujr for it, double reward for it, than you Musalmīn get. Aqāmat-e-Dīn, Aqāmat-e-Ħukūmat-e-Ilāhī, is not you so called Musalmīn’s exclusive territory. ”
Al Jihad Al Vaqār gritted her teeth.
It was no use to debate with Durgesh on it.
She knew very well that she couldn’t prove me wrong.
Countless Musalmīn didn’t agree with me.
Yet, none of them could prove me wrong according to Al Qur’an Al Karīm and Aħādīs-e-muqaddasāt.
The worst thing was they couldn’t prove wrong even Dr. Ålī Sina and his Co Authors.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār changed the subject.
It was a better course to follow for everyone that couldn’t win a debate.
“Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb and Al Nādir Al Ghāzī hadn’t been getting along too well and Al Nādir Al Ghāzī had been turning to other interests. He was staying at the club a lot, playing a little poker, going out with his friends. But Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb was not sitting home, pining her life away. They had just reached the point where they’d started to grow apart.”
“Neither of them wanted to save the marriage.” I commented.
“That’s right. Al Nādir Al Ghāzī had found out that Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb was smarter than he himself was. He wasn’t agree to play the second fiddle. I think even Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb had also found out about Al Nādir Al Ghāzī’s Pseudo Musalmān terrorist, criminal and criminal minded Pseudo Musalmān activities. She played smart not to fight on it with Al Nādir Al Ghāzī.”
I digested the information.
Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb was really smart.
“They both had realized their marriage was a great mistake. They were not made for each other.”
“That’s the problem with marrying in a community.”
“Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb would perhaps never married Al Nādir Al Ghāzī if Al Nādir Al Ghāzī wasn’t a Musalmān and Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb’s parents never insisted to marry their daughter with a Musalmān only.”
“Wasn’t it natural?”
I looked at her gravely.
“Sure, but where the parents of Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb failed was to believe that everything that shines is bound to be gold.”
Al Jihad Al Vaqār watched me appreciatively.
“Countless Musalmīn marry their daughters, their sisters today with ostensible Musalmīn without confirming whether he is really a Musalmān or not. They forget Allah has warned them, ‘Wa lā tunkiħū almusharikīn ħattā yu’minū’. Ħattā yu’minū is the important part here that prohibits a Musalmān to marry his/her daughter/sister with an ostensible Musalmān. It requires the confirmation of the Īmān of the bridegroom as Ved orders ‘Imām nārīm sukr’té dadhāt’.”
“Allah, are you again preaching me Islam, Maulānā Durgesh?” Al Jihad Al Vaqār shouted at me angrily.*
“You Musalmīn are furious that someone that isn’t a Muslim reminds you what Islam really is. It exposes you ostensible Musalmīn. Doesn’t it?”
“Try to be a true Musalmān sometimes, if not always.”
She watched me angrily.
“Al Qur’an Al Karīm says, ‘Lā ikrāh fiddīni’ ‘No compulsion in religion’ too. Perhaps in your enthusiasm to preach me Islam, you are forgetting it.”
“Certainly not. You are still free to have your own opinion whatsoever you want to. Dr. Ålī Sina and his Co Authors have influenced a large number of you Musalmīn too, I understand.”
She deliberately ignored my remark.
It was she that needed me now, not I that needed Al Jihad Al Vaqār.
“Anyway,” Al Jihad Al Vaqār tried once again to resume the subject, “When the separation came, neither Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb nor Al Nādir Al Ghāzī had any hard feelings for each other. They both were so fed up of each other they both wanted to get rid of another one. No tears shed. No complaints even. It was just a plain business matter. Al Nādir Al Ghāzī gave Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb a mine in New Mexico that looked pretty good. Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb wanted to have Al Nādir Al Ghāzī’s Media Empire that I’m running now. Nevertheless, Al Nādir Al Ghāzī made her to compromise on the mine.”
“Any formal property settlement drawn up?” I asked.
“That’s where Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb defeated Al Nādir Al Ghāzī cleverly successfully. He made a blunder there. He didn’t have it formal, but Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb had always been pretty square that way.”
“I see,” I smiled sarcastically.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār ignored my reaction.
“Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb and Al Nādir Al Ghāzī both talked things over. He gave her this mine in New Mexico and they were going to see how it turned out.”
I didn’t say anything.
I only listened to her without making any comment whatsoever.
“If it turned out all right, Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb was going to take that as a complete property settlement. If it didn’t turn out so good, Al Nādir Al Ghāzī told her they’d make some sort of an adjustment.”
“It means Al Nādir Al Ghāzī was more eager to get rid of her than Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb was. He never hid his such a blunt eagerness to get rid of her. Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb noticed it and carefully took every advantage she could.”
“I agree with you.” Al Jihad Al Vaqār said, “Most of the filthy rich men never care for such matters gravely even. They take it extremely carelessly. They never marry gravely actually. They purchase a beautiful plaything for them, instead of having a wife actually. They are always ready to pay for it. That’s what they think they have money for. Even when you fuck their beautiful wives they actually laugh at you that you are a damn fool mostly interested in the used Beauties.”
I smiled triumphantly.
“Their point of view and mine towards life is entirely different, Al Jihad Al Vaqār.”
“They pay money for everything, I pay love for everything.”
Al Jihad Al Vaqār was startled.
“You can see yourself who the real damn fool is. I get love for love, sincerity, honesty, loyalty and the immense indebtedness from the Beauties they get rid of, thus. I keep my money too with me. They never get anything true from their wives even when they are their wives and they lose their money too. Moreover, I never see them as used Beauties. I see them as my fellow human beings that need something I can do for them. I never lose anything in doing that something for them. Instead, I myself enjoy them too much if they enjoy me. It’s the principle that you do everything for me that you can, and in return, I would do everything for you that I can. What the hell have I to lose in this lifestyle?”
Al Jihad Al Vaqār was watching me dumbfounded.
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