Morning Scrawlings

You were up before dawn after dreaming up some new edits to the Quran. You grinned, reading over the scripture and the details of the prayer rituals. This was fun. Who knew religion could be this enjoyable.

You closed the book as you heard your mother exiting the bedroom and rushed out into the hall to accidentally bump into her.

“Good morning, son,” she greeted you, appearing happy but not cheerful. She was dressed in full hijab, a muted deep burgundy colour and still as tantalisingly figure hugging as she used to get away with.

“Hi mom,” you said in return, leering. “Let’s pray in the bathroom this morning,” you suggested.

“What?” asked your mother, not understanding you at first, but then her memory was jogged.__

For when prayer is performed with the son, any place where it is convenient is acceptable for the ritual.

“Oh… of course,” she said, nodding. “It will be convenient for wudu as well.” Ah yes, the ritual of cleansing one’s body before performing sacred prayers. Twisting wudu to your own perversions was one of your favourite bits in the Book.

You smirked and let your mother lead you to the bathroom.