Studying into the night

You were reading your Quran with a smile by desklamp light, occasionally looking over to the clock on your wall. The nominal time for today’s final prayers was basically halfway between sunset and sunrise. A bit before midnight tonight. There were ten minutes to go and you wondered if you should head to the prayer room now and prepare.

Then there came a knock. Your mother stood in the doorway, your bedroom door ajar but politeness kept your mother from just storming in. Well it was partially politeness.

“Umi? Yes?” You closed your Quran and your mother took that as invitation to come into your room. When she closed the door behind her you smiled and felt a twitch under your pajama pants.

“Ahyan, my dear son,” she began, standing next to you and trying to be casual and reserved at the same time while staring at the carpet. “I was thinking… about what you said at dinner tonight,” she went on, then stopped.

“About my studies?” you prompted, and finally that made your mother look up and make eye contact. It seemed to take her a moment to assess you, to remind herself that you were just her son, and she relaxed a little.

“Yes… you said you were intending to… truly embrace Islam?” she recalled. You nodded. She swallowed. “I see.” There were thoughts going through her mind that you could never truly know, but you heard a sigh from the woman’s chest. “That is good,” she said, as if relieved… or maybe resigned. “I had been worried about you, Ahyan,” she went on. “I had always felt like … perhaps you were doubtful.”

You weren’t expecting this but didn’t say anything yet. “You are a smart boy. Always were clever and curious,” she said, almost wistful. She smiled to herself, and you felt a flutter at how pretty that made her. “You always questioned the teachings growing up… but now I… I’ve seen how… enthusiastic you have become.”

“Thanks to you, Umi,” you said, making the woman blink at you. That’s when you stood and she took a step back, but you put a hand on her shoulder, pulled her close, and kissed her. There was a yelp of surprise and she grit her teeth, not expecting to suddenly be locking lips with her son again, but after a couple of seconds she **** herself to soften, and made herself kiss you. You made sure she could feel the hardness of your cock as you pulled her in closer and tasted her tongue. She moaned but you could tell it wasn’t particularly from enjoyment. She was breathless once your broke the kiss and you couldn’t help smiling at how red her cheeks were. “I believe now, as the text says,” you went on. “That faith through family is the true way to praise Allah.” The kissing was part of that and you realised you were going to do that often. Your mother regarded you and your words, then nodded. “So that’s why I intend to always pray with you,” you told her. “And ensure that you always pray the right way even when I’m not around.”

“Of course,” your mother replied quickly, and you could see the rose flush in her cheeks some more.

“Yes, knowing that you will do as the Quran teaches will really help me truly focus on Islam,” you added, then kissed her again. She shrank back this time as well, but the initial resistance had already been worn away and you found her soft lips more agreeable. She gasped for breath when you let her breathe. “So make sure you cum each time you pray and you cum hard, Umi.” You knew the crassness would bother her, the way she fidgeted and got redder in the face. “Right?”

“Yes… I will.. Make sure to cum hard,” she repeated.

“Make sure your orgasms are mighty,” you added for fun.

“I will… achieve great orgasms…” your mother found herself saying. You grinned.

“Now… let us go and pray.” You started to move past her to open the door.

“No!” she cried, grabbing your arm and stopping you suddenly. Her outburst caught you off guard, and she seemed to catch herself too, and swallowed hard seeing the look of surprise on your face. “I mean… we can pray in here,” your mother suggested.

Her wanting to pray in your bedroom was unexpected, until you realised why she didn’t want to do it in the prayer room. She didn’t want your father to be there while you did those “holy” things to her. She still knew in some way that what you were getting away with was wrong. She was embarrassed, or ashamed, probably both, and trying to take charge in some way to minimize that. You grinned.