30-06-2022, 01:53 PM
My name is Salman. I am a 21-year-old guy living in the state of Uttar Pradesh, in India (I will not say which city). I have a dirty little secret...okay, not so little...that's dirty if declared in public, but really is quite common among our community. Everyone is aware of it, but for obvious reasons, no one talks about it.
I come from quite a conservative '. family, where we offer prayers five times a day, try to live our lives as per the teachings and dislike anyone who tries to divert us from it.
My father's name is Aqib and he is an electrician. He has been working in the Gulf from before I was born. He doesn't live in any particular country for long. A few years in one gulf country, and then shifts to another. He has probably lived and worked in every gulf country by now. He once told me he even works double shift to earn more money, and so has collected enough money to build a decent three-room house. But he comes from a conservative background, so he did not send me and my two siblings, both sisters elder to me, to decent colleges. We have all been educated in Madarsas, under the U.P. Madarsa Board.
My childhood was like any other kid in our community. Going to the Madarsa in the mornings, where in addition to normal subjects like Mathematics and Science, we also had subjects like Quran, Arabic and Persian. Teachers were very strict, and we would get canings if we misbehaved, or did not study properly, especially during Quran class. One of the popular rumours that I have heard from my friends, is that the Moulvi sahebs (teachers), would even call some of the boys for special disciplining if they misbehaved (or even if they didn't). After college, I would get together with my friends on the ground, and play cricket, and then return home when it was starting to get dark.
My father, who has been living in the Gulf from before I was born, usually comes home only once a year, for a couple of weeks. Sometimes, he spends longer, like 2-3 months, when he is between jobs, but that is rare. Maybe once every 3-4 years. So all in all, you could say that I have had very limited interaction with him. In total, I might have spent just about one year with him, and so I really have no ties with him except that he is legally my father. I, my Ammi (mother) and my sisters have never been to the Gulf, because he cannot afford to fund it. He tells me that if I want to see the Gulf, I should also take a job like him, and if my sisters want to see the Gulf, they should get married to someone working there. Sometimes he also says he would get them married off to a Sheikh from the Gulf. It is said that these Sheikhs give a good bride-price, called as Mahr to marry the girls, and it is also considered a status symbol among the parents it their daughter is married to an Arab Sheikh.
My friend Aamir, once told me that when his sister Rukhsana got married to a Sheikh, his parents made enough money that they could buy a car. He had overheard his mother once describing how it works. There is a big hall, where the Sheikh is seated on a luxurious seat, set on a stage. On both sides of him are his assistant and a couple of bodyguards. Seated in front of the stage on plastic chairs are all the potential wives, dressed in their finest and with makeup, accompanied by their mothers. The shaikh will select the girl he likes, and point out to her. Immediately, his assistant will come with a suitcase full of cash, which is given to the mother. Then there is a quick Nikah ceremony, and they are officially married. All the girls are supposed to come with their passports so that the selected one can leave with the Sheikh for the Gulf immediately.
As for my going to the Gulf, let me tell you, I have no wish to do so. The reason, I am going to tell you below.
About two years ago few months after my 19th birthday, I was in the second year of college where I was doing a BA course, On one particular day, for some reason, we were let off early from college. I don't exactly remember why, and I don't really care either, because that day my life changed forever.
My friends and I used to walk to college which was quite close, just about a kilometer away from home. I came home and knocked on the front door, but there was no reply. I continued to knock for 3-4 minutes, but no one opened the door. Being the only male in the family, I have a key to the front door, which even my elder sisters do not have. I unlocked the door, and kept my bag on a chair, and went to the kitchen to drink water. While I was drinking water, I thought I heard a soft moan coming from the bedroom.
Suspicious, I took off my sandals and walked quietly towards the bedroom. I had seen enough porn videos and was quite sure it was one of my sisters masturbating. I took out my phone and turned the camera to video mode, hoping that if I posted it online, I might get good money for it.
But what I saw, was even better than one of my sisters masturbating. There, on her bed, was my Ammi, lying naked with a man above her, fucking her hard. They couldn't see me, because the man's back was towards me, while my Ammi was lying on her back, with her legs wrapped around the man's hips. Every time he thrust, she gave out a loud moan, and her large breasts swayed with the thrust. One of her hands was clutching the bedsheet, while the other was around the man's back. After they had been fucking for some time, my Ammi's voice became louder, and at one point, she sounded in such ecstasy that I knew she was cumming, just like the women I'd seen in the porn videos. After some time, the man also started grunting, pushed himself deep into her and stopped thrusting. I knew he was ejaculating inside her, as my Ammi said in Urdu, "yes, Siddharth, yes. Give it to me, give it to me."
When the man had finished, he lay next to her to catch his breath. Then, she brought her mouth to his dick and licked him clean.
After some time, when he got up, I recognised him as the doodhwala (milkman) who used to come to our door every morning to supply milk. He was tall, with broad shoulders and powerful arms. Even after cumming inside my Ammi, his uncircumcised dick was long and thick.
He dressed up, asked my Ammi, "Safiyya, Did you like it?"
"Hmmm," replied my Ammi and giggled like a girl, just like my younger sister does.
I come from quite a conservative '. family, where we offer prayers five times a day, try to live our lives as per the teachings and dislike anyone who tries to divert us from it.
My father's name is Aqib and he is an electrician. He has been working in the Gulf from before I was born. He doesn't live in any particular country for long. A few years in one gulf country, and then shifts to another. He has probably lived and worked in every gulf country by now. He once told me he even works double shift to earn more money, and so has collected enough money to build a decent three-room house. But he comes from a conservative background, so he did not send me and my two siblings, both sisters elder to me, to decent colleges. We have all been educated in Madarsas, under the U.P. Madarsa Board.
My childhood was like any other kid in our community. Going to the Madarsa in the mornings, where in addition to normal subjects like Mathematics and Science, we also had subjects like Quran, Arabic and Persian. Teachers were very strict, and we would get canings if we misbehaved, or did not study properly, especially during Quran class. One of the popular rumours that I have heard from my friends, is that the Moulvi sahebs (teachers), would even call some of the boys for special disciplining if they misbehaved (or even if they didn't). After college, I would get together with my friends on the ground, and play cricket, and then return home when it was starting to get dark.
My father, who has been living in the Gulf from before I was born, usually comes home only once a year, for a couple of weeks. Sometimes, he spends longer, like 2-3 months, when he is between jobs, but that is rare. Maybe once every 3-4 years. So all in all, you could say that I have had very limited interaction with him. In total, I might have spent just about one year with him, and so I really have no ties with him except that he is legally my father. I, my Ammi (mother) and my sisters have never been to the Gulf, because he cannot afford to fund it. He tells me that if I want to see the Gulf, I should also take a job like him, and if my sisters want to see the Gulf, they should get married to someone working there. Sometimes he also says he would get them married off to a Sheikh from the Gulf. It is said that these Sheikhs give a good bride-price, called as Mahr to marry the girls, and it is also considered a status symbol among the parents it their daughter is married to an Arab Sheikh.
My friend Aamir, once told me that when his sister Rukhsana got married to a Sheikh, his parents made enough money that they could buy a car. He had overheard his mother once describing how it works. There is a big hall, where the Sheikh is seated on a luxurious seat, set on a stage. On both sides of him are his assistant and a couple of bodyguards. Seated in front of the stage on plastic chairs are all the potential wives, dressed in their finest and with makeup, accompanied by their mothers. The shaikh will select the girl he likes, and point out to her. Immediately, his assistant will come with a suitcase full of cash, which is given to the mother. Then there is a quick Nikah ceremony, and they are officially married. All the girls are supposed to come with their passports so that the selected one can leave with the Sheikh for the Gulf immediately.
As for my going to the Gulf, let me tell you, I have no wish to do so. The reason, I am going to tell you below.
About two years ago few months after my 19th birthday, I was in the second year of college where I was doing a BA course, On one particular day, for some reason, we were let off early from college. I don't exactly remember why, and I don't really care either, because that day my life changed forever.
My friends and I used to walk to college which was quite close, just about a kilometer away from home. I came home and knocked on the front door, but there was no reply. I continued to knock for 3-4 minutes, but no one opened the door. Being the only male in the family, I have a key to the front door, which even my elder sisters do not have. I unlocked the door, and kept my bag on a chair, and went to the kitchen to drink water. While I was drinking water, I thought I heard a soft moan coming from the bedroom.
Suspicious, I took off my sandals and walked quietly towards the bedroom. I had seen enough porn videos and was quite sure it was one of my sisters masturbating. I took out my phone and turned the camera to video mode, hoping that if I posted it online, I might get good money for it.
But what I saw, was even better than one of my sisters masturbating. There, on her bed, was my Ammi, lying naked with a man above her, fucking her hard. They couldn't see me, because the man's back was towards me, while my Ammi was lying on her back, with her legs wrapped around the man's hips. Every time he thrust, she gave out a loud moan, and her large breasts swayed with the thrust. One of her hands was clutching the bedsheet, while the other was around the man's back. After they had been fucking for some time, my Ammi's voice became louder, and at one point, she sounded in such ecstasy that I knew she was cumming, just like the women I'd seen in the porn videos. After some time, the man also started grunting, pushed himself deep into her and stopped thrusting. I knew he was ejaculating inside her, as my Ammi said in Urdu, "yes, Siddharth, yes. Give it to me, give it to me."
When the man had finished, he lay next to her to catch his breath. Then, she brought her mouth to his dick and licked him clean.
After some time, when he got up, I recognised him as the doodhwala (milkman) who used to come to our door every morning to supply milk. He was tall, with broad shoulders and powerful arms. Even after cumming inside my Ammi, his uncircumcised dick was long and thick.
He dressed up, asked my Ammi, "Safiyya, Did you like it?"
"Hmmm," replied my Ammi and giggled like a girl, just like my younger sister does.
जिंदगी की राहों में रंजो गम के मेले हैं.
भीड़ है क़यामत की फिर भी हम अकेले हैं.
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)