Adultery My Muzlim Mom Became Shameless For a Hiindu Cock

[Rajeev Gupta]

Boredom had settled into Fatima's bones, but she discovered a quiet joy in dancing, her hips swaying to the soft tunes of the radio in the living room. Fatima’s strict adherence to Isllamic modesty and her role as a devoted wife and mother contrasted with her exploration of Facebook, a modern platform that challenges traditional boundaries.  
 
Her hesitation about posting photos and accepting friend requests, particularly from Hiindu men, highlighted her internal conflict between upholding religious and cultural norms and embracing a new, potentially liberating digital space 
  
Sometimes, as Amir darted through the house to grab a snack or head to the courtyard, Fatima would catch his hand, her warm brown eyes sparkling with mischief. “Come on, Amir, dance with me just for a minute!” she’d urge, her voice bright but tinged with a plea. “It’s fun, beta, you’ll see! It’ll make you smile!”  
 
But Amir, was often too caught up in his own world—games with friends or the toy cars his father brought from the city—to indulge her.  
  
“Mom, I’m not in the mood,” he’d mutter, pulling away with a shy grin. “Maybe later, okay? I’m busy.” Fatima would sigh, her smile softening, and return to her dancing, her movements growing more immersive, as if she were losing herself in the music, her loneliness momentarily forgotten. 
  
One sweltering afternoon, Amir sat cross-legged on his bed, a plate of dal and rice balanced on his lap, the ceiling fan creaking above him. The air was thick, and his thoughts wandered to the dusty football game he’d played earlier with his friends.  
   
“Amir, beta, can you help me with something on this phone?” she asked, her voice soft but eager. “I’m trying to put a picture on my Facebook, but I don’t know how it works. Please, just show me quickly.” 
  
Amir scooped up a mouthful of rice, barely glancing up. “Mom, I’m eating right now, can’t you see? I don’t have time for this. Maybe later, okay?” He kept his eyes on his plate, hoping she’d leave him to his meal. 
  
Fatima didn’t budge. She sat on the edge of his bed, the mattress dipping under her weight, and leaned closer, her phone still in hand. “Please, Amir, it’s not hard for you, I know it,” she said, her tone insistent but warm.  
 
“I’ve been trying to figure it out all morning, and it’s so confusing. Just help your mother this once, beta.” She held the phone closer to his face, the Facebook app glowing on the screen, her eyes pleading for his attention. 
  
Amir sighed, setting his plate on the bedside table with a clink. “Mom, you’re always on that phone now, it’s annoying. Why do you even need a picture? I’m trying to eat here.” His voice carried a hint of exasperation, his patience thinning. 
  
Fatima’s lips pursed, but her smile held firm, her eyes bright with determination. “I know you’re busy, Amir, but this is important to me. I just want my page to look nice for my friends. Please, beta, it’ll take two minutes, I promise.” She tilted her head, holding the phone up again, her expression almost childlike in its hopefulness. 
  
Amir crossed his arms, sensing a chance to negotiate. “Fine, Mom, I’ll show you, but only if you let me play with my friends, even the kafir ones. You’re always saying I shouldn’t hang out with non-Musslims, but they’re my friends. If you want my help, you have to say it’s okay.” He leaned back against the wall, watching her closely, expecting her to refuse. 
  
Fatima’s smile faded, her fingers tightening around the phone as she considered his words. “Amir, you know why I worry about you playing with those boys—it’s about keeping our faith strong. But if it means that much to you, I’ll allow it, just be careful. Now, please, show me how to upload this picture.”  
 
Her voice was steady, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of hesitation, as if she were wrestling with her own rules. 
  
Amir’s face lit up, surprised at her concession. “Okay, deal! It’s easy, Mom, look,” he said, taking the phone from her hand. “You go to your profile here, click this button that says, ‘Change Profile Picture,’ and then pick a photo from your gallery. See? Done.”  
  
He tapped the screen quickly, showing her the steps, his earlier annoyance fading with his small victory. 
Fatima watched intently, her head tilted as she followed his fingers on the screen. “That’s all? I was making it so complicated in my head! Thank you, beta, you’re so smart with these things.” She took the phone back, her smile widening as she scrolled through her photos, her excitement palpable.  
  
  
THE FIRST PHOTO AMIR'S MOM POSTED ON HER FACEBOOK  
  
  
  
 
 
Amir picked up his plate again, ready to return to his meal. “Yeah, it’s not hard once you know. But, Mom, why do you even need a picture? I thought you said married women shouldn’t do stuff like that on Facebook.” His tone was curious but edged with doubt, recalling her strict adherence to their faith’s modesty rules. 
  
Fatima’s expression softened, her fingers brushing the edge of her headscarf as she looked at him. “It’s not what you think, Amir. I just want to connect with my friends from the mosque and the market—it’s nice to have a picture so they know it’s me. I’m not trying to show off or do anything wrong, beta.”  
 
Her voice was calm, reassuring, though her eyes held a trace of unease, as if she were justifying it to herself as much as to him. 
  
Amir nodded, unconvinced but unwilling to press further. “Okay, Mom, whatever you say. Just pick a picture and be done with it.” He turned back to his food, scooping up another bite, his mind already drifting to his plans with his friends. 
  
  
Amir glanced at it, shrugging. “That one’s fine, Mom, you look good. Just use it and stop asking me. I’m trying to eat here.” His voice carried a touch of irritation, though he couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. 
  
Fatima frowned slightly, scrolling to another photo, this one with a blue veil. “But what about this one? It’s a little brighter, don’t you think? Or maybe this one, where I’m smiling more?” She flipped to a third photo, her excitement undeterred, her voice bubbling with indecision as she held the phone up again. 
 
pics uploading site 
  
Amir groaned, leaning back against the wall. “Mom, they’re all basically the same! The first one is good, just go with that. You’re driving me crazy with this.” He waved a hand, his patience wearing thin as he tried to focus on his meal. 
  
Fatima laughed, a soft, musical sound, and nodded. “Alright, alright, I’ll use the first one, beta. You’re so good to help your mother, thank you. I won’t bother you anymore.”  
She stood,  and walked to the door, her phone still in hand. “You eat your food now, okay?” She closed the door gently behind her, leaving Amir in peace. 
Amir didn’t think much of his mother’s new Facebook venture. To him, it was just something mothers did to pass the time, like cooking or praying.  
He figured she was bored, seeking a small distraction while his father was away, and he returned to his dal and rice, his thoughts drifting to the games he’d play now that he could include his non-'. friends, thanks to their deal. 
  
Over the next few days, Fatima’s Facebook account began to draw unexpected attention. Despite posting only her profile picture, followers accumulated steadily, and friend requests flooded her notifications. The small living room, with its woven mats and single bulb, became a stage for her growing excitement.  
 
One evening, as Amir lounged on a mat, sipping a glass of milk, Fatima rushed in, her veil slightly askew, her face alight with astonishment. She thrust her phone toward him, the screen glowing with a list of notifications. 
“Amir, look at this, you won’t believe it!” she exclaimed, her voice brimming with disbelief. “I have so many followers already, and all these friend requests! I didn’t even do anything except put up my picture!” She sat beside him, her fingers scrolling through the list, her eyes wide with a mix of thrill and confusion. 
  
  
THE PHOTO WHICH MADE FATIMA GAIN MORE FRIEND REQUESTS 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
Amir took the phone, his jaw dropping as he saw the numbers. “What? How do you have this many people following you? You didn’t post anything, Mom, how is this happening?” His voice was laced with shock, his brows furrowed as he scrolled through the names, many of them unfamiliar. 
  
Fatima leaned closer, her smile tinged with uncertainty. “I don’t know, beta, it’s so strange to me too. Maybe some are women from the mosque or people who know me from the market. I didn’t expect this at all!” She tapped the screen, her fingers hesitating over the friend requests, her excitement tempered by caution. 
  
Amir noticed the names—many were men, with Hiindu names. “Mom, most of these are guys, and they’re Hiindu. How do they even know who you are? Are you sure this is okay?” His tone was skeptical, though he wasn’t overly concerned, his mind still half on his milk. 
  
Fatima’s smile faltered, her fingers pausing on the phone. “You’re right, Amir, I didn’t notice so many were men. I won’t accept them all, don’t worry—I’ll only add the women I know from the mosque. I don’t want to talk to strangers, especially kafir.”  
Her voice was firm, though her eyes lingered on the screen, as if tempted by the attention. 
  
Amir handed the phone back, shrugging. “Why not just accept some of them? It’s just Facebook, it’s not like you’re meeting them in person. Do whatever you want, Mom.” He leaned back on the mat, sipping his milk, his interest waning. 
  
Fatima hesitated, her thumb hovering over a request. “Maybe I’ll accept a few, just the ones who seem polite. But I’ll be careful, Amir, I promise.  
 
I don’t want to do anything wrong.” She tapped a few buttons, accepting a handful of requests, her expression a mix of curiosity and restraint as she navigated this unfamiliar world. 
  
Amir nodded, barely listening. “Yeah, okay, Mom, just be careful like you said. It’s your account, do what you want.” He set his glass down, his thoughts drifting to the courtyard and his friends, unconcerned about his mother’s online activities