Pregnant Muslim wife meets Hindu lover
Haseena walked carefully so as to not reveal any part of her skin. In her state, it was taboo for another man to see her exposed. The entire mohalla had been in high spirits when her pregnancy was revealed but no one had predicted three children. Now in her final stages, the pregnancy had distended her swollen belly outward till she could barely walk. She felt the fabric struggling to get past her stomach, pulled tight around her bulge. The restrictive burqa kept her from walking quickly, the cloth stretching across and then loosely falling off the edge of her belly like a cliff.
Knowing him, he would be watching her coming, relishing that it revealed more than it hid. She smiled, touching her deep navel, clearly outlined against the black fabric. In these moments, she was glad for the veil hiding her blushing face. There was a small window when her brother went for evening prayers and before her nephew arrived from the workshop. Otherwise, she would always have a family member near her. Even when she had to use the toilet, a gaggle of women relatives always stood guard.
She kept walking slowly, reaching the sheltered canvas of the tea stall, always shut at this time. The nook had a wall to one side, separating them from the market and a gutter alongside it, which meant few people came around the bend. He was there as promised, waiting for her with the same impatience written on his face that she felt. It was not even enough time to speak or kiss, barely enough time for her to loosen her burqa so that he could bunch it up around her waist.
His cock already frantically thrusting against her looking for its sheath. She meekly accepted his dominance as his arms wrapped around to engulf her huge belly, resting possessively on the apex of the curve. Her body, already heavily pregnant, could only sway forward as her lover frantically rutted into her. “Hai Allah”, she cried out, feeling their babies kicking. Were they woken by the invasion of his cockhead now pounding relentlessly at the entrance of her womb? As a Muslim woman, it was haram to be seen speaking with a kufr, let alone the sheltering his uncut shaft. There was pleasure mixed with the shame of being taken by a man, not her husband, and not even from her faith. “Be gentle my prince,” She whimpered, his ferocity almost bringing her to her knees. She had forgotten how good his Hindu cock felt inside her, how she could never deny his needs. She clutched the wall to stay upright, almost doubled over in her pregnant state submitting the fullest access to her burqa-clad form for him to mount.
“Your’e just like a bitch in heat, always wet and eager”, his familiar taunt made her bite her lips trying to suppress her moans. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how true it was. It had been months since their last rendezvous and the slow walk here had thoroughly soaked her panties. He was also frantic today, maybe it was the same need to feel a connection that was urging his male instinct to the peak. Bending over her back, he mounted her like a dog on the street, hips blurring as he raced towards mating.
The hoarse voice of the mullah suddenly rung through the air making Haseena instantly stiffen under him, clenching around his cock in a vice-like grip. It was the call for adhan calling to stop even eating and drinking during the time for prayer. Hearing the pure Quranic verses over the loudspeaker, she quivered at the cusp of a powerful orgasm, her belly contracting in waves as she fought to hold back her shameful pleasure.
“What burns hotter, this randi’s faith or her lust?” his deep voice struck at her core. At that moment his cock expanded to its fullest size, the cockhead releasing from his foreskin and lodging against the opening to her pregnant womb. The triplets swarmed inside her belly, her convulsions now disturbingly strong as she realised what’s happening but it was too late. He clutches her body against his in an animal grip, his hips thrusting rhythmically. The mullah’s cry over the loudspeaker reaches a fever pitch drowning out her full-throated screams.
Streams of liquid gush down her milky white inner thighs marking her own orgasm, stronger and stranger than ever before. “It’s happening,” she thinks, only vaguely aware of her surroundings, “I’m having his babies,” With a violent thrust, his cock pops into her womb plugging the tiny opening. Haseena’s world shrinks down to that point, barely registering anything else as immense pleasure mixes with the sudden pain. “Haseena… kahan ho”, a cry comes from just around the corner.
Allah please, not now. She struggles to shake off the man on top of her, but her body does not respond, completely exhausted. Fear grips them both but fear and lust are a potent mix. His hips thrust deeper, the swollen cockhead lodged between her now open entrance to her womb.
“Haseena begum!” closer now, almost upon them. She feels her contractions clenching powerfully, her womb clamping down rhythmically. This is too much for her lover, and he lets loose a loud groan, not caring anymore about being caught, rabidly churning her hole. She struggles to stand clutching at the wall, shaking as another contraction rips through her. He adds his Hindu seed once again, coming inside her, this time deeper than any other man. She swoons, feeling him abruptly disengage, and just before she is about to fall, a strong pair of arms grips her.
Looking up, her eyes try to focus. Her nephew looks down at her in concern. Out of the corner of her eye, she can make out the tail of her lover’s kurta turning the corner and vanishing. Helping her to walk, they manage to reach the hospital on time, all the journey through she feels the warm leaking evidence of their forbidden act seeping down her legs. Each step pouring it out, thankfully she has a burqa to hide but she leaves a wet trail. The babies are delivered and she wakes to the knowledge that her babies are born coated in her Hindu lover’s seed.
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