Family Night

By the time Fareeha and Ibrahim were done setting up in the guestroom, the Isha prayer was due. The night prayer. You poked your head in the doorway. Your sister was sitting on the bed, wringing her hands, still flustered from her mother’s greeting.

“Oh, hey dude. We’ll be right down,” said your brother-in-law when he spotted you. You didn’t even need to remind him what time it was. Fareeha wanted to be hesitant to take her husband’s hand but she had no excuses not to join the family in the prayer room downstairs.

Your father and mother were already kneeling on the rug and facing Mecca as you returned, guestroom guests in tow. With a smile and wave, your sister was drawn to your mother and placed herself beside the woman. You noticed Ibraham stop just before walking into the room. The realisation hit him. He became apprehensive and his eyes widened, watching you seat yourself next to your father, behind the two women. He pushed down his bubbling feelings and knelt to your right. Now the three men in the room sat in a row behind the pair of women in front of them.

“Let’s begin,” you said, now the prayer leader. The only one smiling right was you. Your father remained stone faced. Your brother in law seemed nervous, his shoulders rigid. You didn’t care. There was some perfunctory praising of Allah, but mainly you were all here to pray in contemplative silence. And to enjoy the show.

Your mother turned to your sister, who was still unfamiliar with this new norm and could only let the things happen. The older woman was happy to lead, taking her daughter’s face in her hands again. Another kiss, like the one she first gave her girl at the front door. This time she got sloppier, showier. You saw her pink tongue and how it lapped at your sister’s lips, the pregnant woman barely able to keep up. She could open her mouth, let herself be made out with. Allow herself to become familiar with the taste of her mother's spit. The shock was almost too much for her. Almost. There was a momentary break, the headscarved women with their foreheads pressed together as they breathed.

“Umi…” she managed to whisper needily, before her mother kissed her again. The room was filled by the soft smacking of lips and the gasping of your sister becoming overwhelmed by rising arousal.

“You don’t need these,” you heard your mother say, her hands snaking under Fareeha’s dress. She had to let her mother take off her underwear. They were set to one side carefully. “Not any more. Not in this house.” The woman rolled up her sleeves.

“Umi I’ve never done this before…” breathed your sister, shooting a glance at her enraptured audience and feeling her cheeks burn. It might have been fear. It might have just been stage fright. Your mother’s hands resting on your sister’s thighs seemed to comfort her.

“Neither have I, abnataya,” she said. “Not with another woman. We’ll learn to pray this way together, yes?” She didn’t exactly wait for a reply, she slid her hands up her legs instead. Fingers found your sister’s dripping heat and the pregnant daughter did her best to say her prayers. “So wet already,” noted your mother, really putting a shoulder into her technique now. You couldn’t see the main action from your angle, but the older woman seemed willing to provide her running commentary. “Two fingers now… you’re really dripping, Fareeha.”

“Umi… this is embarrassing,” your sister muttered, unable to do much else other than spread her legs more, gripping the raised hem of her dress.

“This is as Allah intends,” countered your mother, stunningly calm. “We must pray openly… make sure your husband sees.. Your father… and most importantly your little brother.” The matron pulled her fingers out then and made your sister turn while she sucked on her fingers to taste her own daughter. “Look at them Fareeha… they’re not even praying yet. We must be more encouraging.”

Despite her obvious embarrassment your sister parted her knees so the audience could better see her perfect, puffy pussy. She had to lean back a little because of her belly, but her clean shaved entrance was unobstructed from view. You lead by whipping your cock out, hard as iron already. Your father and brother-in-law were hesitant but showed themselves to be willing. There was nothing to hide during prayers after all. This was the first time you saw what they were packing, and you swelled with pride seeing how you compared. Your father was decent, but at least half an inch shorter than you and not as thick. Your brother-in-law was much the same as your father, perhaps a bit girthier. Both women had their eyes locked on your tall member though, then your mother leaned over to continue her prayer with her daughter.

You watched her stick three fingers into the drooling hole now, your sister’s petals as flush as her face. She had her head turned, the pregnant woman wanting to look at the floor. When you started stroking yourself she couldn’t help where her eyes were drawn. She let herself watch you then, as your mother fingered her. Her eyes darted to her husband, also determinedly masturbating, then to your father who was also jerking stoically. There was too much too see, but you noticed her focus would return to your erection the most often. The little prayer room was filled with the sounds of slipping skin. Of cocks being rubbed and an excessively wet pussy squelching.

“Umi… my clit… rub my clit,” Fareeha moaned, suddenly voicing her desires. Your mother responded quickly to the command and pressed a thumb to her daughter’s hood. There was a cry, even though the sensation shouldn’t have been a surprise to her. You heard a groan to your left and your father grunted his praise to Allah. Watching his wife finger his daughter was too much stimulation. “Baba came… ohhh… Umi…” said your sister, panting.

“Your husband is next,” said your mother knowingly. Sure enough, your brother-in-law spilled his seed onto the floor with a strained noise in this throat.

“Ibrahim!” your sister moaned in disbelief. Then she came, listing backwards as your mother's fingers worked her spasming cunt. She was making a mess of the rug and she yelped, obviously surprised but unable to stop, kicking her feet. Your mother was relentless in making her daughter spill her juices and only when she pushed her hand away did the woman finally stop. The pregnant woman had to lay down, but her legs remained spread, her glistening lips on display.

It was a tempting sight, but you knew you had to make sure everyone prayed properly. You got up and your mother seemed to only just realise you were in the room too. She saw your cock and knew where it should go, laying back for you hurriedly, hitching her dress up. That she so nonchalantly revealed her own dripping need for you had you grinning. Fucking her in front of everyone in the mosque had unlocked something new inside her. You grabbed a leg, raising it to give yourself room. She was wet and ready to pray, so you didn’t make her wait.

“Oh yes… all the way in,” she said, almost singing, as you speared your cock into your mother. The woman was all smiles, looking up at her son, eyes ablaze with lust. Her pussy already twitched around your stiff stuffing, you knew this would be a quick prayer at best. You thrust and she moaned, her voice echoing off the walls. You knew they were watching this. You could practically feel your father’s eyes burning into your back. There was movement to the side. Your sister struggled to sit up but she had to see this. Had to witness her brother fucking their mother. The patient rhythm had the woman squirming beneath you. She reached up, grabbing the back of your head to pull you down into a needy kiss. Her fingers were still damp with your sister’s juices. “I’m cumming Ahyan! I’m cumming!” she announced, making sure everyone heard her. “Allah forgive me! I love your cock too much abnay!”

She moaned her shameful joy and climaxed with you still rocking her. You heard Fareeha suck in a breath, then you let out your own animal howl and released yourself.

“Take it umi! Take! My! Holy! Seed!” You shot into her at the deepest point of each thrust. Shot after shot after sticky hot shot. You must have pumped more cum up her cunt than you had already given her at the mosque. You never felt more drained, and your mother probably never felt more full. You collapsed on top of her and were rewarded with fluttering, wanting kisses.

“I’m so blessed,” she murmured between bouts of tasting your tongue. “I can’t wait to watch you bless your sister.”

You both turned your heads to see Fareeha staring, jaw hanging. She was blushing and mortified. It was going to be a very spiritual weekend.