The Hung Midday Prayer [pt. I]

You stepped into your family's Prayer Room, your cock still straining down your left leg, a heavy pillar of need.

The room's design was a testament to its purpose, devoid of windows and adorned with a pair of shelves on opposing walls, where religious texts and sacred objects found their place. Simplicity was its guiding principle, with only a set of coordinating rugs and cushions adorning the floor. The atmosphere within exuded serenity, intentionally unadorned, entirely dedicated to the solemn act of prayer.

You quickly caught sight of something unusual. A small basket and a stack of neatly folded white towels had been placed discreetly in the corner. Curiosity led you closer, and you peered inside, revealing just two items resting at the basket's bottom.

A bottle of KY Jelly and a petite pink device.

Your heart skipped a beat. It was your mother's vibrator!

The revelation stunned you. The mere idea that she possessed sextoy had never crossed your mind. It certainly didn't appear new, suggesting it had not been recently acquired. You contemplated its place within the household, imagining these two items usually residing at the bottom of your parents' nightstands.

That they were suddenly here, brazenly out in the open, was proof of your family's profound transformation. No longer concealed or discreetly tucked away, the items rested proudly in a room designed to celebrate Allah. Clearly at some point during your long hours of your focused rewriting of the Quran, without any prompting from you, your parents had decided to incorporate these into their prayer time.

Incredible.

Turning away from the basket, you stepped over to your own mat and started unbuckling your belt.

It definitely felt odd to drop both your pants and underwear in the Prayer Room, except of course that this was now the norm for this space. You stepped out of them and knelt down your thick meat happily slapping your prayer rug.

You bowed down and recited the Shahada, touching your forehead to the mat.

"La ilaha ill-Allah. (There is no god but Allah )."

You sat back up, your stiff dick bobbing between your spread legs.

Taking a breath, you grasped the heavy, warm pillar in both hands. Slowly you stroked its length, savoring the sensation of your fingers on your sensitive flesh. The air felt cool on your exposed loins, a sensation that was oddly exhilarating. Doing something so obscene in such a sacred space would have been unthinkable before.

You glanced at your father's mat besides yours.

Usually so immaculate and clean, there was now a very telltale pattern of stains in the middle of it. It wasn't a large amount, you imagined he'd only jerked off onto it once or twice in the past few days as your extensive edits to the Quran had taken effect. The fact that your pious and fastidious father now believed it was right and proper to jerk off in prayer in your family's shared sacred space was...

Hilarious.

You couldn’t help but imagine the sight of him kneeling here, furiously stroking his tool before releasing a bunch of his jizz onto his mat. Perhaps at the same time as your mother, pleasuring herself as her faith now dictated.

Allah be praised.

You eyed your mother's mat and noted with delight that it had already been moved in front of yours and your father's mat. The proper place for the female where their male relatives could enjoy watching them as they glorified Allah.

Speaking of, you could hear footsteps coming down the hall and the click of the Prayer Room's door handle turning. Your mother entered and you greeted her, "Mama."

She smiled serenely for you before her eyes went straight to your swollen rod. A soft sigh escaped your mother and you could see the visible flush on her cheeks. Clearly the sight of her son's thick manhood made her feel things.

She looked almost awestruck, and you had a hard time imagining the earnest and devout woman you knew before behaving like this. Yet here she was, practically quivering with excitement as she stared at your heavy member.

"Ah. It’s been a while since we prayed together." She commented, stepping fully into the room. She seemed to make an effort to pull her gaze and look upward as she moved to her mat.

It amused you that she was trying so hard to keep from staring at your stiff rod, as if Allah wouldn’t have already known that her gaze had been riveted on it.

You gazed fixedly at her ample behind as she stood on her mat and prepared to reveal her arwah just as you had done.

With graceful and practiced movements she reached down and gathered the hem of her dress. Up it went, her hips swaying slightly as she pulled the maroon garment over her bottom.

She wore no panties, likely having made a stop at her room to take them off before prayer.

Her ample, bare ass was right there and your breath caught in your throat as you stared at it. Those heavy, doughy orbs were a work of art, round and voluptuous, yet still firm. You had the sudden desire to grab and squeeze those fat, pillowy orbs of flesh, to spread them and reveal the dark pucker in their center. You ached to see those ass-cheeks jiggle as you bounced her up and down on your pillar of meat.

Your cock throbbed, your heartbeat hammering in your ears.

Holding her dress up, she knelt down on her mat and that plush rear jutted out behind her. The sight of it nearly took your breath away, its inviting curve and roundness, so full and womanly. Your mother settled down onto her mat, her back straight and her heels digging into the backs of her thick thighs.

It was like her bare ass was a magnet. Your gaze was drawn to it, your attention riveted on that smooth and ample behind. You couldn’t get enough of the sight. Even the slightest shift caused those supple cheeks to wobble ever so slightly and you stared hungrily.

She was oblivious to the effect her upside down heart-shaped behind was having on you, the lust you felt rising within, the **** need to grab and spread her, to reveal the prize nestled between.

A soft sigh escaped her and you could see her thighs clench ever so slightly, "Shall we begin, abnay (my son) ?"

"Uh..huh? Oh yea, yes." You say shaking yourself out of your reverie.

She bowed down, forehead touching the mat. But you remained still, just watching as that wide, full bottom rose, your eyes zeroing in on the inviting cleft between those smooth, plump mounds.

You stared at, first her tightly puckered butthole, and then the pink lips of her pussy, both peeking out between her ample cheeks. The sight was obscene, an open invitation. Your mother's most private of places was right there, her plush ass-cheeks spread enticingly and you wanted nothing more than to slide your meaty tip over that slick entrance. To push deep inside her waiting orifice.

Except it wasn't actually an open invitation. Even as your pious MILF of a mother took a picture perfect doggy-style position with her dress raised before her son's raging boner, this was just prayer.

You heard her soft chanting even as her fingers appeared at her slit. A moment later she had dipped two digits inside that soaking pink flesh and you could see her pussy lips widen a little at the motion. "Subhana Rabbiyal A'laa (Glory to my Lord, the Most High )," she breathed even as her fingers withdrew, shiny with her arousal.

As she started to masturbate before Allah, you reached for your meaty shaft and gripped it tightly. You began to stroke your length, matching her motions, her pace, her rhythm. The slick, wet sounds of her fingers sliding along her flesh, her heavy breathing, filled the Prayer Room, the heavy air between you pregnant with your shared desire.

This was absurd. This was crazy. Your mother, the most devout and pious woman you knew, was now on her Prayer Mat masturbating in front of you. The both of you preparing to ejaculate on your respective rugs in celebration of Allah.

Crazy, yet intoxicating. You'd rewritten the Quran and transformed your whole family, all of your fellow Muslims into sexual servants to Allah.

" Ya rabee (Oh my God)," your mother moaned, fingers working furiously at her sopping sex.

Your gaze remained locked on her puffy folds, on the way those smooth, glistening lips parted every time her digits plunged inside her depths. You stared as they disappeared into her clutching channel, disappearing deep within that sopping hole. Your mother's breathing was ragged, her motions swift and almost violent as she pleasured herself. You could see the slight quiver in her rear-cheeks as she drove her fingers deeper inside.

You matched her pace, hand sliding up and down the thick shaft of your pillar. You couldn't help but imagine that soft, moist orifice was squeezing down on you, sucking you in, milking you of your seed. The mere thought caused a bolt of pleasure to rush through you and you groaned loudly.

You were so hard it ached, the swollen tip of your meaty cock slick with precum.

You came to a decision. Enough foreplay.

You shuffled forward onto your mother's mat, your thick pole swinging wildly. Her head was down, her gaze fixed on the floor and she didn't notice as you came up behind her. The head of your cock made contact with those ample ass-cheeks first, sliding against her plush rear-mounds. You brought your hands down to cup those pillowy globes, squeezing them and spreading them apart.

You slid the underside of your meaty spear right over that open wet hole, enjoying the warmth and wetness.

Your mother gasped, head whipping around and your eyes met. There was surprise in her gaze, but no censure, no judgment, no disapproval. Her surprise swiftly turned to lust as she felt your rod settle against her pink flesh.

"Abnay," your mother murmured, her eyes going hazy.

"Is there a problem with... what I'm doing?" You asked her softly, knowing there wouldn't be but wondering which of the perverted verses you'd added to the Quran, she'd parrot back to you.

"No, abnay," your mother breathed in reply. She looked embarrassed for a moment, but then went on, voice steady, "The long dong belongs in the moist hole. In prayer, the son shall stroke it out in the mother. It is Allah's will."

Her hips bucked back against your shaft, grinding her soft orifice against your base, leaking juices upon your sac. "You can... stroke it out inside me, abnay." She murmured, blushing fiercely, "You may insert your long dong in me and use my moist hole to..." She gulped, "cum hard and cum well."

It was insanely hot, hearing your devout Muslim mother recite your pornographic additions to the Quran as easily as the originals.

The sight of your prim and proper mother uttering such words in a Prayer Room no less was beyond shocking. It was incredibly hot. You could feel the lust and pleasure coursing through you at the thought. She looked both eager and nervous. Your thick weapon was rubbing up against her sex and she was shaking as she felt the pressure of your meat.

The idea that the both of you were acting out this deviant script that you'd written over the course of a few days was insane. The way your mother looked at you with lust but with a glint of nerves was so sexy. It was clear she wanted your rod inside her but also that she'd never taken a cock the size of yours before.

You weren't a virgin. Ever since Sarah Flowers blew you in the back of her mom's car after that first high school dance, the secret had been out. That the Muslim kid had a huge cock was treated as sort of a running joke across the school, but it meant you had no trouble getting girls to go out with you. You figured you'd gotten more handjobs and blowjobs than most guys your age but the number of girls you'd actually fucked could be counted on one hand.

Your size freaked them out. Fun to play with, fun to look at and make shoot like a firehose but actually taking inside their sinful little pussies? Not so much.
But then came the gift of your magical copy of the Quran and now there was absolutely one thing you could say about Muslim women: they knew their duty to a big cock. No matter how big.

But because you weren't a virgin and had experience working your massive cock into the girls like Ashley and Simone who'd bravely let you between their legs, you knew what you were doing. Cock and balls still pressed against your mother's big round ass, you leaned over and grabbed the basket. Pulling it closer, you snatched your parents' lube and squeezed out a long line onto your thick rod.

You rubbed it in before filling your palm and pressing it to your mother's dripping hole.

"Inshalla (God willing)!" she breathed. Your mother let out a soft whimper of pleasure, pushing back against your hand. She seemed to have abandoned her hesitation in the face of her need. Her orifice opened up, greedily swallowing your digits and sucking them deep inside that soft, warm hole. She let out a deep groan, her head falling down again as her hips worked slowly.

The sight made you shiver, the feel of her clutching passage clenching and releasing around your fingers causing a spike of pleasure to race through you, "You're acting like such a needy slut, mama!"

"I am a slut!" your mother gasped, voice tinged with desire. "Allah made me a slut, abnay!"

You let her words wash over you. It was a bit mind-blowing to realize what a massive influence you had on your own devout mother. She'd always been stern and strict and so very devout, but now she was a panting mess.

All thanks to your magical Quran.

"Fuck yes!" you grunted, "Tell me all about how much you need your son's cock to stroke you out!"

"I need your long dong," she panted as her soaking hole sucked your fingers deeper and you added a third finger. "Inshalla ( God willing), ahyan, I need your long dong, your thick, meaty spear of meat! I need your big balls and heavy sac pressing against my wet, hungry hole. Allah has blessed you and blessed me with your big...thick... cock. I need it so very much!"

Her voice rose and fell, growing more ragged and heavy with each word, and you could feel the tension building in her hole. Her orifice was squeezing down around your digits and you could feel the heat within as her slick passage grew even hotter. She was getting close.

"Inshalla ( God willing) abnay!" your mother grunted, her plump rear bumping back against you as she rocked on her knees, "I need your powerful manly Jinchuriki cock! Fuck your mother hard abnay and stroke out hard in her sinful flesh. I am your slutty little Prayer Hole."

You grinned.

The words were like a dream come true. She'd even slipped in an absurd Naruto reference that sounded perfectly natural, as if legendary tailed beasts had always been a part of Islam.

You couldn't get enough.