Monday, March 31, 2014

A Trans-Global Odyssey of Sibling Romance


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Greetings!!!  My name is Aslam.  The background which explains Aslam's blog about consensual sibling romance can be found here:

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The root menu that lists all of Aslam's blog postings (including the johnny-plus-shannon blog) can be found by clicking on my avatar image to the right or on this link: 
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Thank you for visiting!!!!
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Please refer any grammatical errors, spelling errors, or inoperable links
in this autobiography to me for correction to balsamic.aslam@gmail.com 
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The following is an autobiography about the romantic relationship shared between my sister Jasmine and me.




Introduction

So... is my last name really "Balsamic"?  Of course not!!!  But my family and I enjoy eating at the Macaroni Grill restaurant, and I especially enjoy the balsamic vinegar and the warm bread loaves.  

The term "balsamic" refers to a specific type of vinegar that was developed in Italy (in other words, "balsamic" isn't even Arabic).  So... using "Balsamic" as my last name is a little bit of an artistic license.

Are the first names used in my autobiography accurate?  Yes, the names are mostly accurate with a few tweaks.  If someone manages to "connect the dots" and identify me and Jasmine... well, then so be it.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1:  Childhood in the Middle East
Chapter 2:  Summer Vacation in the USA
Chapter 3:  Habib's Advice
Chapter 4:  A Trip to Disneyland
Chapter 5:  The New Focus on Jasmine
Chapter 6:  Unexpected Forgiveness Under Blue Starlight
Chapter 7:  Midnight Joy vs. Next Day Befuddlement
Chapter 8:  Siblings as Boyfriend & Girlfriend
Chapter 9:  Getting Dirty Outdoors
Chapter 10:  The Big Canopy Bed
Chapter 11:  Disneyland vs. Jasmine's Body
Chapter 12:  Untouchable Beauty
Chapter 13:  The Rarity of Sharing Naked Treasures 
Chapter 14:  The Space Race
Chapter 15:  The Tears on Her Cheeks
Chapter 16:  A Thousand Splendid Nights
Chapter 17:  Goodbye, Middle East!!!
Chapter 18:  Not Exactly a Mansion
Chapter 19:  Father's New Business
Chapter 20:  The Balcony Bistro
Chapter 21:  Cozy Bed Partners
Chapter 22:  The "Marriage" Between Sibling Lovers
Chapter 23:  The Little Vault Doors
Chapter 24:  The Science of Romantic Love
Chapter 25:  The Midnight Fire Alarm
Chapter 26:  The Thrill of Cuddling
Chapter 27:  A Few "Broad-Minded" Activities
Chapter 28:  The Magic Pillow
Chapter 29:  From High School to University
Chapter 30:  Chung's Laws
Chapter 31:  Physics Lab & Pondering "The Coefficient of Friction"
Chapter 32:  Physics Class & Cheryl
Chapter 33:  Kissing & "The Breath of Life"
Chapter 34:  Hello, Arthur!!!
Chapter 35:  The Job Market
Chapter 36:  Marriage to Cheryl
Chapter 37:  God, The Bible, and Sibling Romance
Chapter 38:  Living "The American Dream"
Chapter 39:  The Brilliance of Jurassic Park
Chapter 40:  Childhood Never Ends
Chapter 41:  The Brass Titanic
Chapter 42:  A Terminal Diagnosis
Chapter 43:  "No Heroics" is Not a Plan
Chapter 44:  A Four Year Reprieve
Chapter 45:  "EMERGENCY!"
Chapter 46:  Hollywood Models
Chapter 47:  A Minor Obsession
Chapter 48:  The Glorious Angel
Chapter 49:  Hospice Care
Chapter 50:  An Intimate Glimpse Into Father's Soul
Chapter 51:  Father's Passing
Chapter 52:  The Last Farewell
Chapter 53:  Mother's Announcement
Chapter 54:  A Daughter's Confession
Chapter 55:  Pondering Biblical "Commandments"
Chapter 56:  The Sibling Transformation Fantasy
Chapter 57:  The Divinity of Female Pubic Hair 
Chapter 58:  A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words 
Chapter 59:  The Gilligan Syndrome
Chapter 60:  A Few Favorites
Chapter 61:  Cheryl's Holy Figurines
Chapter 62:  Epilogue I
Chapter 63:  Epilogue II - "Pixie Dust"
Images A:  Cheryl's Holy Figurines
Images B:  "This Was Your Life" 

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A Mansion in the Desert.
By: Aslam Balsamic.
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Chapter 1: Childhood in the Middle East.
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Many years ago as a young lad, I began having strong desires to gaze upon the unclothed feminine treasures possessed by females.  The only female available was my beautiful older sister.  Even my sister's name radiated beauty.... Jasmine.  She was 2 years older than me.  Jasmine and I had no other siblings.
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Our family was wealthy, but I felt lonely and poor.  We lived in a small town in the Middle East in a typical Arabic nation.  The name of the country doesn't matter.  If a nation is ruled by iron-fisted fanatics (religious, political, or simply power-mad) and there isn't any counter-balance... then it's the innocent citizens who suffer.
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Father insisted that our entire family must speak, read, and write English... which he said was "the universal language".  So, English was the language of our household.  Even our servants had to learn to speak English in order to keep their jobs.  We all spoke Arabic outside the walled compound of our mansion, though.
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Every Friday, our family went to the Mosque for two hours.  But religion was not mentioned otherwise.  We did not have prayer rugs, we never prayed 5 times per day, we did not do Ramadan, we did not read the Quran, and we never made a pilgrimage trek to Mecca.
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One day I asked Father why we were not as "serious" about religion as other families.  He refused to answer and just waved me off as though I was a bothersome little gnat buzzing around his head.
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But Father did actually spend a significant amount of time talking with Mother, Jasmine, and me about other things.  He talked about honor, respect, love, decency, honesty, and hard work.

One statement Father stressed was "The most fantastic memories are often unplanned moments in time... so keep your eyes open!!!"

In addition, Father frequently talked about the "balance" of life.  Everything tends to have various quantities of pluses and minuses.
 - Love vs. Hate
 - Good vs. Bad
 - War vs. Peace
 - Pleasure vs. Pain
 - Hot vs. Cold
 - Romance vs. Abuse
 - Work vs. Leisure
 - Light vs. Darkness
 - Spicy vs. Bland
 - Bondage vs. Freedom
 - Happiness vs. Depression
 - Strength vs. Weakness
 - Honesty vs. Deception 

OK, so I understood Father's balance theory, but I didn't really like the balance of my life... which seemed to be rich vs. lonely.

Sometimes I wished that our family was poor so I wouldn't have to live a life of loneliness inside a walled compound surrounded by the lap of luxury.  Then I might be free to have a girlfriend... to be held, hugged, and kissed.  To feel the warmth of her breath on my face as she would lean in to whisper her undying romantic affection for me.  To be cherished, and to have a sweet girl who would appreciate being cherished by me.

My life felt unbalanced without sharing romance with someone special, even though Father and Mother loved me... and I assumed that Jasmine loved me, too. 

The only female my own age that I ever really interacted with was Jasmine... and at times, it seemed as though I barely even knew her.  I basically ignored Jasmine.

One of my classmates had confided to me that whenever a clan of his relatives would visit, a willing female cousin would sometimes sneak away with him to kiss and hug. 

Well... nothing fun like hugging and kissing would be happening to me.  Nope.  Never.  Not ever.

All of my cousins and relatives had moved away to the United States many years ago when I was young, and there were no relatives left other than Jasmine.

But I had always secretly sort of liked Jasmine (even though she was my sister), and I actually thought that she was quite beautiful.  The problem was that I honestly didn't know how to act around Jasmine, I didn't know what to talk about with her, and I didn't know what her interests were (mostly because I never asked).  I didn't know how to break the ice.

Sometimes Jasmine would smile at me, but I'd always quickly avert my eyes and look away... and then I'd kick myself for being so incredibly stupid around her.  But I never did purposely insult Jasmine, was never rude to her, and I never intentionally hurt her feelings.

Chapter 2:  Summer Vacation in the USA

When I was 12, our family visited relatives for 3 weeks in the San Francisco Bay area of Northern California, USA.

None of my pretty Arabic (now USA) teenage female cousins hinted anything about wanting to sneak away with me to hug or kiss... but my cool 17 year old cousin Habib had a girlfriend, and he knew lots of things.  He also had a few nudie magazines hidden under his mattress which he showed me (rather tasteful; not too explicit).

Habib taught me some American slang terms and medical terms for the various body parts:
 - boobs (female breasts)
 - pussy (vagina)
 - clit (clitoris)
 - prick, dick, cock (penis)
 - balls, nuts (testicles)
 - bush (female pubic hair surrounding the pussy)
 - venus mound (raised flesh in front & center of female hips just above the pussy; 
      it looks like a "V")
 - butt, ass (posterior, rump)
 - butthole, asshole (anus)

Other interesting terms included:
 - french kissing (kissing and sucking using lips & tongues)
 - feeling up (romantic petting)
 - fuck (sexual intercourse... the mechanics of which needed to be 
        explained to me in detail)
 - making love (sexual intercourse)
 - virgin (one who has never experienced sexual intercourse)
 - cum (1. liquid semen residue, or 2. the process of orgasm & ejaculation)
 - cummed or cumming (orgasm)
 - jerk off (male masturbation, which I of course had enjoyed many times)
 - blow job, BJ, eat out, 69 (oral sex)
 - player (a lying horny smooth-talking male jerk)
 - slut, sleazy bitch (a promiscuous female)
 - knocked up (pregnancy)
 - hot (sexually attractive)
 - hard on, boner (penis erection)
 - wet (vagina lubrication indicating sexual arousal)
 - butterflies (happy feeling in the belly that occurs when being close 
        to someone special or just thinking about someone special)
 - cunt (a derogatory term for vagina, or a bitchy female)

The most exciting thing Habib told me about was "wet humping".  That's when the lovers are both naked, and they rub their private parts together.  Habib said it works best with the guy lying on his back, the girl climbs on top to straddle his hips with her thighs, and she sits on him.  Then she rubs her wet pussy lips against his stiff prick.  The guy gets to hold on to her thighs or her hips, and he can happily watch her hairy bush undulating on his prick, or watch her boobs bounce.  A bath towel should be put down on the bed to catch the semen and then the sheets won't need to be changed, Habib explained.

Wowie, that was my new goal to do with a nice and hot girl... wet humping... because it sounded so fun.  It made my prick stiffen with excitement when Habib was telling about the kissing, loving, wet humping, naked intimacy, and orgasms that he and his super hot girlfriend enjoyed sharing with each other.

I wrote down the terms that Habib told me on a 3x5 card in mice-type, and then stuck it in my wallet.  It made me feel like a secret agent on a special mission.

Chapter 3:  Habib's Advice

Finally, Habib carefully explained that the best way to gain an invitation and access into a girl's bra and panties is to first win her heart:
 - always be freshly washed (face, hair, and entire body)
 - hair combed; teeth brushed; use deodorant & cologne
 - use mouthwash before each date
 - look her in the eyes
 - listen to what she says
 - make intelligent comments
 - give accurate, honest compliments
 - keep a pack of gum on your pocket to freshen your breath if needed 
       after a meal and before kissing
 - get up and give her a nice shoulder massage while she's still seated after a meal
 - always be honest, polite, and nice
 - go slowly
 - be happy with whatever the girl might want to share physically
 - never be a player
 - never lie to a girl
 - don't try to get into a girl's bra and panties if you don't want to be fully committed to her
 - don't frequently be pushing for more physical stuff (it's OK to hint and whisper 
       a request into her ear, but if she's hesitant... then respect her boundaries 
       and her standards)
 - never cheat on her
 - don't look at other girls
 - don't make crude comments about her or any other girl
 - let the girl decide that SHE wants YOU
 - stay away from sleazy bitches who are willing to do sexual stuff really fast
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I thanked Habib for the great advice, and shook his hand.  Habib smiled and beamed with pride at being able to help out his naïve younger cousin.
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Chapter 4:  A Trip to Disneyland

During our final week in the USA, our family took a trip down to Southern California and visited Disneyland for 2 days.
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The brilliant design of Disneyland fascinated me, especially the fact that Disneyland was divided up into specific regions for different rides and attractions.  There was Main Street USA, Frontierland, New Orleans Square, Adventureland, Fantasyland, and Tomorrowland.

Of course, I was absolutely 100% convinced that Heaven would be a place exactly like Disneyland.  I loved the various attractions in the different regions.

 - Disneyland Prehistoric Railroad; Great Moments with Mr. Lincoln; Penny Arcade (Main Street USA)
 - Tom Sawyer's Island; Keel Boats (Frontierland)
 - Pirates of the Caribbean; Haunted Mansion (New Orleans Square)
 - Jungle Cruise; Swiss Family Robinson's Treehouse; Enchanted Tiki Room (Adventureland)
 - Snow White's Adventure; Sleeping Beauty's Castle; Mr. Toad's Wild Ride; Alice in Wonderland; Peter Pan's Flight; It's a Small World; Casey Jr. Circus Train; Storybook Canal Boats (Fantasyland)
 - Monorail; Submarine Voyage; Adventure Through Inner Space; Sky Buckets; Autopia; Carousal of Progress; People Mover (Tomorrowland)
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The Matterhorn Bobsleds in Fantasyland?  Didn't care much for that attraction.  Lines too long; ride too short; not much to actually look at.
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But by far... my favorite attraction at Disneyland was the Storybook Canal Boats in Fantasyland.
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The Storybook Canal Boats attraction was peaceful, slow, and relaxing.  It started with the boats entering the mouth of Monstro the Whale.  The boats then rode a slow course of water canals past real miniature plants, tiny gravel paths, and little model architectural buildings (it was outdoors in natural sunlight).  Plus... each canal boat was piloted by a very pretty teenage female Disney employee in a cute dress who would talk into a microphone and point out the details of everything to see during the trip.  I must have made that trip more than a dozen times.  I was torn between staring at the miniature world outside the boat and staring at the pretty teenage female boat pilot.
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Here are a few images of the "Disneyland Storybook Canal Boats":
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Chapter 5:  The New Focus on Jasmine

We returned back home to the Middle East, and I felt much smarter about sexual mysteries.  However, the added sexual knowledge from Habib didn't help much... because I still didn't have access to any teenage females except Jasmine, and she was my sister.

In addition to feeling smarter about sexual mysteries... I had kept the Disneyland Guide Map, had carefully brought it back home to the Middle East, and looked at it every day for a few months until it accidentally got thrown out.
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The next year at age 13 and being a curious youthful horny teenage male, I decided that the time had finally arrived for me to see in real life an attractive teenage female's body... completely unclothed.
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Since the only teenage female available was my sister Jasmine, she thus became the sole focus of my interest.  I didn't have a crush on Jasmine... I was just curious about her female body parts.
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Of course, asking Jasmine to let me see her intimate female body parts would be impossible.  Did I ever once even consider the possibility of getting to know Jasmine better?  To maybe implement a little of Habib's advice... even though Jasmine was my sister?  To try talking with her, hugging her, massaging her shoulders, asking her questions, smiling at her, paying her some attention, and looking into her eyes?  No, I was a complete idiot.

So... instead, I decided to attempt peeping on Jasmine in the shower.  It was the very first attempt that I had made at peeping.  I knew that Habib never would have recommended peeping, but that didn't stop me.

Climbing a tall yet spindly tree outside the second floor bathroom shower window one evening after dinner, I was able to raise myself just high enough to see inside.  My eyes were scarcely over the window sill.  The glass was open, and I could see perfectly through the fine mesh bug screen.

Excitedly... I saw Jasmine's wet black hair, her ears, her naked shoulders, and her armpits as she washed her hair with raised elbows.  Nothing more, but wow... Jasmine was definitely beautiful!!!  She looked amazing.  It was then Jasmine suddenly turned around, and our eyes locked together.  Unable to duck because I was barely hanging to those spindly branches... I froze.

"Aslam, what are doing?"

Terrified, I unfroze and quickly climbed down out of the tree and fled into the darkness of our rear courtyard to hide.  In a few seconds, I was sitting on a padded outdoor sofa bench located the farthest distance away from the mansion.  The area was illuminated by nothing but blue starlight from a billion stars overhead.  There was no moon out that night.

Not too much time passed, and I could hear approaching footsteps crunching on the gravel path.

Chapter 6:  Unexpected Forgiveness Under Blue Starlight

Jasmine soon appeared by my side, and sat down next to me on the padded sofa bench.  Wallowing in a sea of shame, embarrassment, and humiliation... I couldn't even raise my head to look at Jasmine's face.  So she reached over, raised up my head with her soft hand under my chin, and turned my face towards hers.  Our eyes met.

"Aslam?"

The gentle look in Jasmine's dark eyes and her shy smile pleasantly startled me, and she quietly whispered that it was perfectly OK for me to be interested in gazing upon her feminine treasures.

Sliding closer, Jasmine wrapped her arms around me so she could hug me, hold me, and kiss my cheek.  Timidly reaching out to put one arm around Jasmine's shoulder, it made my heart pound wildly... especially when Jasmine didn't resist or move backwards.  Instead, she leaned in and allowed me to kiss her soft cheek. She didn't push my other hand away when I slowly reached around her front to put my hand on her opposite side, and rested my forearm on her belly.

This was an unexpected and brand new pleasure.  I really liked having my forearm rest on Jasmine's soft belly... because I could feel her belly gently rising and falling as she breathed.  And I liked the subtle sound her adorable little nose made as she breathed close to my ear.

Holding each other, Jasmine began slowly and softly whispering into my ear about everything under the sun for the first time in my life.  She whispered about life, love, God, desires, beauty, relationships, romance, and the incredible special unique treasures that men and women possess in their bodies and in their souls.  And finally, to my utter surprise... Jasmine whispered that she had always thought that I was really cute.

In response, I whispered a few compliments and observations into Jasmine's ear and tried to sound smart, but I probably sounded stupid... although I wisely didn't mumble anything rude like asking to see or feel any of Jasmine's female treasures.

Whenever our whisperings paused, there was not silence... for we were being serenaded by the peaceful, romantic chirping of crickets.

Kissing Jasmine's cheek several times... I whispered an apology for ignoring her for all of these years.  Her response was not verbal... but to snuggle in closer against me, and to rest her beautiful head on my shoulder.

This was a new and wonderous experience for me, because after being caught peeping I rightly expected a reaction of anger and hostility... but it did not happen that way.

Jasmine did not treat me... her stupid peeping little brother Aslam... like a dirty goat.

She did not back away in scorn.  She did not hurl angry words at my ears.  She did not raise a foot to kick me.  She did not raise a hand to slap my face.  She did not raise her voice in alarm to summon our Father or Mother.  She did not stare daggers at me with her eyes.  Jasmine did nothing to embarrass me, insult me, report me, threaten me, discipline me, or express disappointment in me.

Instead... Jasmine came silently searching for her little brother to gently discuss what had occurred.

She smiled at me with her ruby lips, and the gaze from her dark eyes was friendly.  Jasmine's whispered voice was gentle and understanding.  She sat close and hugged me.  She slowly rubbed her cheek against mine.  I could smell the fragrance of her freshly washed hair, and there was even a slight whiff of perfume... for me?  How could that be?

Rather than treating me like a filthy street beggar dressed in rags, Jasmine made me feel as though I was an honored Sultan clothed in a fine array of soft purple linens.

The moment before Jasmine sat down next to me on that fateful starry moonless night, the value of my life had seemed as though it was less than nothing.  I was shy, lonely, and feeling like worthless street rat.
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The next moment... suddenly everything had been reversed.  The affectionate expression on Jasmine's face as she gazed into my eyes and the gentle words that she breathed into my ear made my lonely heart begin to soar like an eagle.
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Never before had I been drunk on the magic elixir of intoxicating love with a beautiful youthful female who was paying positive attention to me.  And the positive attention was completely undeserved.

A warm gentle breeze swirled around us, bringing with it subtle sweet scent of the giant desert flowers blooming in the courtyard all around us.

On that starry night so many years ago, while being held by Jasmine for the first time... I actually wondered if I had died and entered paradise eternal.

On that starry night... I fell madly and romantically in love with my beautiful sister Jasmine.  

On that starry night... I asked Jasmine to marry me.

Laughing quietly and kissing me wetly on the cheek once more, Jasmine whispered "No, Aslam!!!  Marrying you isn't possible... although I love you dearly.  Please know that I have always loved you, and I will always love you."

The crickets continued their peaceful serenade as we held each other and whispered to each other in the darkness under the illumination of blue starlight that was cascading down upon us from the heavens above.

No... I had not died.  But I had been given a priceless little taste of paradise for the first time.

On that starry night... I realized that Disneyland was not Heaven.  Being romantically in love, and being loved romantically in return... yes, that was Heaven.  It was paradise.  Definitely.

Whispering into Jasmine's pretty ear... I told her about the new feelings of affection, paradise, and butterflies that were sparking through my heart and through my belly.
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Jasmine whispered a confession that she, also, was enjoying a little feeling of paradise.  She described the butterflies in her belly as a feeling of weightlessness.
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After an hour, we headed back inside the mansion.  I invited Jasmine upstairs into the billiards room, where I taught her how to play backgammon.

For the first time, as we played backgammon... I was finally able to look into Jasmine's dark brown eyes without quickly turning away when she gazed back at me.  Jasmine's eyes were so beautiful, my breath was taken away.

Chapter 7:  Midnight Joy vs. Next Day Befuddlement

Later that night in the solitude of my bed, I hugged myself and pretended that Jasmine's warm, soft, and fragrant body was lying next to mine.  Sleep seemed to elude me... because the buoyant joy in my soul of a first whisper, a first embrace, a first confession of romantic love, a first cheek rub... it was all simply too overwhelming.

In the quiet darkness of my bedroom, I pondered our desert sand culture and the lives that Jasmine and I shared together.  Living in a Middle Eastern country, and the fact that our parents were rich... translated into very little freedom for either of us.  I could attend school... but nothing else was allowed.

The life of Jasmine was much more restricted than mine.  At least I could attend school, although my "freedom" was closely monitored (translation: I had no freedom).

Females in our culture were not permitted to attend public schools.  Only wealthy families could afford tutors to educate their daughters... assuming those families even wanted their daughters to be educated.

Father wisely believed that education was necessary for everyone... both male and female.  Jasmine was tutored at home by a carefully chosen selection of middle-aged American or British females, because attending a public school was strictly forbidden.  Jasmine was rarely allowed to leave the walled fortress of our mansion and courtyard.

Whenever Jasmine ventured outside beyond our walled compound, she had to be veiled; and then only when accompanied by a strong male.  A few times I had recently been allowed to escort Jasmine outside, but not very often.  How could Jasmine stand her restricted life of confinement, I silently wondered?

The next morning I walked to school as usual, and spent the entire day pondering Jasmine and my new profoundly romantic love for her.  But Jasmine was my sister.  Did that matter?  No, the fact that our relationship was "taboo" made it even more exciting... at least to me.  Jasmine's bedroom was right next door to mine.

My teenage brain was frazzled, excited, and deeply confused.  Not even a single word uttered that day by any of my teachers, my friends, or my classmates registered in my head.

All that morning and afternoon, I daydreamed about how holding Jasmine's soft body close to my body had felt so wonderful that previous night on the padded sofa bench.  I also pondered the joy of how we had verbally explored each other's souls.  And simply playing backgammon and spending time with Jasmine indoors as friends was more fun than I'd had in a long time.

In the brightly illuminated billiards room that previous night, the penetrating gaze from Jasmine's dark brown eyes seemed to bore directly into the very depths of my soul.  I'd heard the expression "The eyes are the window to the soul", but never understood the meaning... until I gazed unflinchingly into Jasmine's incredible eyes. 

In the afternoon, a gnawing fear started growing in my belly.  I wondered if Jasmine would still feel the same way about us today that she felt last night.

I recalled overhearing many guys in school often stating that females are crazy; that females always change their minds; that females are unpredictable; that females are as stupid as goats.

Did I ever think of a human female as a goat?  Never!!!  But confusing?  Perhaps... although I had virtually no experience interacting with females other than Mother and Jasmine, and they both seemed reasonable enough
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Would Jasmine ever hold me again the way she did last night?  Would Jasmine ever slowly rub her cheek against mine again?  I certainly hoped that she would... but I was well aware that there were no guarantees.   What might seem to be a good idea one day might be decided to be a bad idea the next day after a person has had the chance to "sleep on it" overnight.

The answer came that afternoon on my way home from school as I walked along the winding dusty roads approaching our mansion.

Not knowing what to expect was a swirling combination of fear and excitement.  My progress along the dusty roads was slow under the burning heat of the sun overhead.

It felt as though our mansion was a giant magnet irresistibly pulling a tiny grain of iron (me) towards it... into a grasp from which there could be no escape.

I knew that my life would never be the same again.  Never.  It just wasn't clear which direction was ahead, though... dive-bombing into a fiery disaster of doom?  Or would I be soaring to new heights of happiness that I had only previously experienced in my dreams? 
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Turning the corner a few houses away from our mansion, there was Jasmine standing in the big window of the second floor billiards room, waiting... for me, I assumed.  She waved and smiled; I did the same back to her.

Jasmine had never once waited for me before.  Never.  Not ever.  Nobody had ever waited for me to return home from school... and certainly never a pretty teenage female!!!

When I unlocked and clanked open the heavy iron gate and stepped into the front yard of our compound, Jasmine turned away from the big window and quickly disappeared from view.  After I climbed the porch steps and paused to take off my sandals, the big wooden front door flew open, and Jasmine raced out to give me a tight hug... breathless and happy.  I was breathless and happy, too.

The feeling of our bellies breathing against each other as we hugged tightly was wonderful.  We rubbed our cheeks together.  Not knowing what to say, I simply whispered "Hi... I love you!!!" into Jasmine's ear and kissed her cheek.  She whispered the same romantic statement back into my ear before kissing my cheek.

I savored the feeling of Jasmine's warm breath on my cheek and against my ear.  We stood there on the porch, hugging and rubbing our cheeks together for what seemed like a long time.
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Silently, we hugged and swayed together.  My eyes closed and I gave unspoken thanks that today was a day of jubilant joy... not a fiery dive-bombing crash of doom.

This was a new threshold for my life.  I really was going to be romantically loved and cherished... for the long term... finally!!!

Standing with Jasmine and hugging at the open front door of our mansion... I could feel the stiflingly hot outside air on my back.  At the same time, the cool air-conditioned breeze from inside the mansion silently and gently flowed around our bodies.  It felt as though our hugging together at the threshold of our mansion on the border between heat and coolness was symbolic of the threshold of romantic love that Jasmine and I were now embarking upon.

Finally heading inside and walking upstairs, Jasmine and I played a few games of backgammon in the billiards room.  We made doe eyes at each other, and smiled shyly.
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There were butterflies in my belly once again... now that I knew Jasmine had not changed her mind about our new romantic relationship.

Mother was in the upstairs library as usual... reading a book, and listening to soft music on the record player as she did every day.

After backgammon, I invited Jasmine to take a walk with me in our huge courtyard along the gravel paths beyond the concrete surrounding the swimming pool.  The gravel paths were numerous and they took off in different directions... winding around the hard soil, the boulders, the shade trees, the shrubs, the cactus plants, the fish pond, the fountain, the statues, and the desert flowers.  I enjoyed listening to the crunching sound that our sandals made as we walked along the gravel paths.  Our 2 pet desert tortoises from Afghanistan (each was about the size of a small salad plate) tried in vain to follow us.

Jasmine and I could speak in normal voices as we walked along the gravel paths in the far side of the courtyard away from the mansion.  I told Jasmine that I loved her, and that I was happy that she still loved me.

Chapter 8:  Siblings as Boyfriend & Girlfriend

Since Jasmine could not marry me, I asked her instead to be my betrothed; to be my steady girlfriend; to be my committed lover.  She readily accepted.  We promised to meet again to share a little romance on the padded sofa bench at the far corner of the courtyard that night and every night thereafter when dinner was concluded.

After we agreed to become boyfriend and girlfriend, Jasmine and I talked to each other and paid attention to each other constantly.  Starting from the first moment Jasmine sat down next to me in the courtyard after I was caught peeping on her to the next evening only 24 hours later... we talked more than the summation of all the words we had ever spoken to each other during our entire lives.

Every weekday during school, my thoughts were about Jasmine and her beautiful dark brown eyes... and everything else about her.

Every weekday afternoon, Jasmine stood at the big window in the second floor billiards room and waited for me to turn the corner on my walk home from school.  

Every weekday afternoon, my heart leaped for joy when I saw Jasmine waiting in the second floor window of the billiards room.

Once Jasmine and I became boyfriend and girlfriend, it seemed that every waking moment of my life... and even in my dreams... butterflies were in my belly because of my love and affection for Jasmine.  I thought about Jasmine as I drifted off to sleep.  Jasmine's face was the first thing on my mind each morning when I awoke.

We played backgammon in the billiards room often, and I also taught her how to play chess.

My greatest joy was studying Jasmine's beautiful face as she pondered her next move.  Her dark eyes seemed to be nothing less than two fine works of crystal glass art that were amazing beyond description.

The iris in each of Jasmine's eyes, although dark brown, still had subtle artistic variations of color... as though God Himself had sprinkled a glorious array of glitter in various shades of brown over Jasmine's eyes when He laid the very foundations of her soul.

I watched Jasmine's long black eyelashes flutter as she blinked every few seconds.

I studied the alignment of each black hair on her feminine eyebrows.  I liked the way Jasmine hooked her black hair behind her cute petite little ears.  

Looking closer, I noticed the adorable yet barely discernible microscopically small peach fuzz hairs on Jasmine's face.

Time was spent marveling at the attractiveness of Jasmine's cheeks, her nose, her forehead, her chin, her lips, her neck, her shoulders... and secretly of course, everything below her neck.  I even noticed that she had very fine little black hairs on her forearms.

There was literally nothing about Jasmine that I didn't think was beautiful.

Looking up and noticing me studying her features, Jasmine would smile and exclaim "What?!?!?"  I didn't need to answer... she knew exactly what was happening.  I was basking in the warmth, love, happiness, and affection of our forbidden teenage romance.

Jasmine wanted to learn how to play billiards, so I happily taught her... as my eager student and my erotic lover.

Of course, I needed to give Jasmine plenty of lessons involving close bodily contact about how to hold the cue stick... such as when she was trying to shoot, I'd lean over her from behind and push myself up against her soft rump and hold her hands with my hands.

Although anyone can learn how to hold the cue stick in a few shots, Jasmine always wanted another lesson so we could enjoy feeling my body jammed up against hers from behind.  We both enjoyed pushing our bodies together as we bent over the pool table.  If we heard anyone approaching, then we'd giggle and quickly disentangle ourselves.

On weekday afternoons, we'd study our education lessons together in the library as Mother listened to music... where once again the myriad of amazing features in Jasmine's face and body would distract my eyes like a siren's call.  There was no way that I could avoid constantly staring at her awesome beauty.

In the downstairs parlor, we'd sit and talk.

In the kitchen, Jasmine liked to try cooking different dishes as I sat on a stool... watching as the chef gave friendly advice.  I loved secretly gazing upon the beautiful twin moons of Jasmine's little rump as she puttered around the big kitchen wearing a white apron.
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We took long walks in big circles on the gravel paths thoughout the courtyard.  Jasmine didn't seem to walk the same way that everyone else walked... she glided, as though she was the living embodiment of the phrase "poetry in motion".
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We'd sit together on another padded sofa bench outside the kitchen door, and feed the tortoises chopped vegetables on hot afternoons.  We smiled at each other, and enjoyed gazing into each other's dark eyes.  

Of course, we'd meet on our special padded sofa bench in the far corner of the courtyard every evening after dinner so we could hold each other, gaze into each other's eyes, rub our cheeks together, look up at the stars & moon, nuzzle our noses together, whisper our love and attraction to each other, and feel each other's warm breath on our ears.

Chapter 9:  Getting Dirty Outdoors

During the first month of our sibling romance was when Jasmine did something out of character for an Arabic female.  Jasmine was willing to get dirty with me.

Not dirty sexually... but dirty in the form of joining me for outdoor playtime in the courtyard on weekends.  Dirt, dust, rocks, gravel, and mud in our courtyard.

My favorite outdoor weekend activity was playing in the courtyard with a large set of die-cast metal scale model cars and trucks.  They were finely detailed, with real rubber tires and working suspension systems.  Doors, hoods, and trunks opened.  The cars were about the size of my palm, and the trucks were a bit larger (a red fire truck, a yellow dump truck, a drab green military truck, a white delivery truck, and a blue transit bus).

Father made me promise to be gentle with the cars and trucks if I was to play outside with them, and to bring them in every night.  I agreed to take excellent care of the cars and trucks.
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Underneath the protection several large shade trees, I had carefully carved out an extensive series of roads into the stiff soil.  A bucket of water was always available nearby in case there was an important construction project requiring the use of mud.  Bridges were constructed using branches and stiff mud to cross the numerous dry riverbeds that I had dug into the dirt.  Several cardboard boxes retrieved from the trash bin served as houses and buildings.  I loved watching the rubber tires turning and the wheels moving up & down as I drove the vehicles over the uneven roads that had been carved into the terrain.
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Anyway, on a Saturday morning... Jasmine suddenly appeared and sat down close in front of me as I was carving a new road into the dirt.  

What was this spectacle?!?!?  I couldn't believe it.  Jasmine had dressed herself in a set of my old ragged play clothes, and they fit OK because we were approximately the same height; although she was thinner than me.

Amazingly, Jasmine's feminine body had transformed those old ragged play clothes into something incredibly attractive.  Jasmine would have made an old canvas potato sack look like a priceless work of art if she wore it.
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The idea of Jasmine sneaking into my bedroom and looking through my clothes for something to wear excited me greatly.  It was a new level of intimacy with Jasmine that was very different from anything else I had previously imagined.
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So... Jasmine asked to play cars with me, and I excitedly welcomed her into my little imaginary world.

The first thing she did was gather up all of my cardboard boxes, and I followed her into the mansion's kitchen.  Under Jasmine's directions, we cut out doors and windows in the boxes, and then we painted all of them different colors.  I had to admit that the boxes all looked much better with doors and windows, and painted to cover over the descriptive printing of whatever material has been contained inside the boxes when purchased at the marketplace.

From that day forward, Jasmine and I enjoyed playing cars together outside in the courtyard every Saturday and Sunday.  We made up stories about all sorts of events that occurred in our miniature little world in the dirt under the big shade trees.

The stories that we made up were those typical of a teenage male and teenage female.

Jasmine's stories would always involve emotional human drama... a blossoming love, a moral dilemma, a forbidden love (like ours), a hypocritical cruel leader who needed to be toppled from power, a misunderstanding, the searching and finding of a lost pet, the granting of a final wish before someone dies, or the relationship between two friends supporting each other during tough times.

The stories that Jasmine shared with me were amazing, because she was so creative.  Never could I think up a creative story of human intrigue the way she could.

My stories always involved something predictably male... such as a heroic rescue with the fire truck, a construction project using the dump truck, repelling a foreign invasion with the military truck, the police car chasing down a criminal attempting to speed away from the marketplace, or brave explorers using the Land Rover to climb a large distant boulder.
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Oddly enough, no stories involved the two tortoises who would often crawl through our little town... even though they were bigger than most of the cardboard box structures.
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Underneath the big shade trees, I loved watching Jasmine sitting in the dirt... with bright fingers of sunlight streaming down through the rustling leaves like tiny dancing spotlight beams illuminating her gorgeous face and her beautiful jet-black hair.  And since I was seated, I was able to get a close look at her bare toes and feet in sandals... all covered with dust.

In Arabic culture, feet are supposed to be nasty parts of the body.  Just sitting with your legs crossed with the sole of your foot pointed at a person is considered to be a great insult to that person.  I always thought that was a stupid interpretation of feet.  Jasmine's dusty toes and feet looked beautiful to me, and I wanted to wash them and kiss them.  The desire to suck on Jasmine's toes entered my mind as I stared at them... provided they were freshly cleaned.

Chapter 10:  The Big Canopy Bed

Our evening romance continued with us meeting at the padded sofa bench every night after dinner.  A few splendid months passed with me holding Jasmine in the courtyard under the blue starlight, and the cycles of the moon overhead would give us more blue light... which we used to gaze deeper into each other's eyes.

The most splendid evening was a single moonless moment in time.  I still recall it vividly to this day.

That's when we were hugging on the padded sofa bench, and Jasmine whispered into my ear that she wanted us to start lip kissing.  To my utter surprise, Jasmine also whispered that she wanted us to start sharing all of the male and female treasures of our bodies with each other... as in both of us being fully unclothed and naked together.  We shared a few soft lip kisses and sucked on each other's lips while sitting together on our padded sofa bench... as my heart fluttered with growing anticipation and excitement.

Then Jasmine stuck her tongue into my mouth, and rubbed it against my tongue.  Wow, did that sensation ever feel fantastic!!!  The top of Jasmine's wet tongue felt as though it was carpeted with tiny flowers... which were her taste buds.  Jasmine's wet tongue was strong as she rubbed it against mine, and she used it to explore the inside of my mouth as far inside as she could reach.

Even though my tongue had lived inside my mouth for my entire life, I never realized that the tongue is actually one large muscle... until I felt the strength as Jasmine pushed and rubbed her tongue against my tongue.  It's an amazing part of the human body; very sensual and very erotic... and it's capable of tasting, too.  We enjoyed sucking on each other's tongues and rubbing them hard against each other.

My prick was stiffened in my pants from all the excitement as I explored the insides of Jasmine's wet mouth.  I sucked on her lips and gently gnawed on them with my teeth as she sighed; quietly trilling with pleasure.

Our parents were not home; there were only a few servants on the ground floor of the mansion.  Servants were forbidden from entering the second floor between dusk and dawn, so Jasmine and I casually walked upstairs and retired to her bedroom.

Fully clothed, we spent several minutes hugging and kissing next to her big canopy bed while standing up.  It felt so good to lean into each other while standing up... the sensation was that we had become a single entity.  I pictured our four legs supporting our bodies leaning against each other as though we were a living romantic embodiment of the Eiffel Tower in France.  For the first time ever, my hands slowly moved down from Jasmine's sides and began rubbing on her hips.

Finally... my curious hands slowly moved back to explore, rub, and gently squeeze the twin moons of Jasmine's soft little rump.  That's when her breathing noticeably increased.   Jasmine sighed deeply and whispered into my ear "Oh my goodness... that feels so wonderful, Aslam!!!"

Jasmine began gently rubbing the twin moons of my rump, too.  Before I could whisper how wonderful her touch felt, she pulled away.

Was our sibling romance over, I silently wondered?  Had Jasmine suddenly changed her mind?

No... Jasmine simply lit a bunch of candles and then switched off all of the bright electric lamps.  Her room had been magically transformed into a romance suite by the dimming of illumination.

The coolness and comfort of her big soft canopy bed looked very inviting and very romantic.  Standing where Jasmine directed us on opposite sides of the canopy bed, we both slowly disrobed like mirror images while watching each other... until we were both clothed in nothing.

A level of happiness that I did not think would ever be possible had completely enveloped my soul as we disrobed, because Jasmine was freely and unashamedly allowing me to gaze upon her naked beauty with the candles glowing to softly illuminate her perfectly flawless teenage body.
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Females in our Middle Eastern desert sand culture are strictly forbidden from being seen unclothed by any male.  I have always believed that restriction is wrong; that it was created by jealous men who wanted power; hostile men who wanted to make the good men crazy by keeping them under a whip; power-mad men who wanted to control everything; arrogant men who were basically evil to the core.  Evil men continue to try and enforce that restriction today.
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I do not believe the restriction that the treasures of a beautiful female must remain unseen by their male lover was ever a commandment issued from God.  I do not.  Absolutely not.

Jasmine seductively pulled down the comforter and top sheet before slowly crawling on the bed to lay down on her back.  Nothing needed to be spoken... Jasmine's outstretched arms were raised up to welcome me into the amazing fantasy paradise world of her beautifully youthful female body.

Suddenly, I had been transported once again directly into paradise... but this time I was clothed in nothing.  I must be dead, I thought.  How could there be such pleasure and love and warmth; pleasure that was so intense, the experience seemed to transcend life itself?  How could that be?  How?

The paradise was simply our warm naked bodies holding each other, skin-on-skin, caressing each other, and kissing each other.  My stiffened prick did not enter Jasmine's body, but it didn't matter.  I was joyfully immersed in the ocean of Jasmine's love and affection.   Her decision to freely & happily share the feminine treasures that I had just gazed upon for the very first time was almost more than I could mentally comprehend.
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Did the quick glimpse which I stole on the night of Jasmine's shower count?  No... I had seen very little on that night, so it did not count.
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The feminine treasures which Jasmine possessed were incredible.  There were the small perfectly formed breasts on Jasmine's chest, the beautiful twin moons of her little rump, and of course... the fabulous treasures of the hairy pussy between Jasmine's legs. 

It was the amazing hairy pussy treasures between Jasmine's legs that fascinated me the most.  Those treasures were so beautiful.  The black hair arrayed around the pussy lips leading into the depths of her internal feminine body gave them a magical and mysterious allure.

Jasmine spread her legs apart and invited me to gaze upon her feminine treasures for as long as I wanted to, and she whispered a request that I should begin to fondle and rub her pussy treasures (which were wet, as Habib said; but the wetness excited me much more greatly than I expected).  Jasmine showed me the little treasure bead clit between her legs, which made her writhe in ecstasy when it was gently rubbed with my finger.

Unlike my black pubic hair down below (which was curly), Jasmine's black pubic hair down below was straight.  Each hair was perfectly aligned like the petals of a beautiful flower... making what appeared to be a star pattern radiating outward from the lips of her pussy.  It was amazing and intriguing and mysterious.

Glancing up at Jasmine's face every few seconds, I noticed that she was never looking at my prick, my rump, or anything else... she was doing nothing except smiling and gazing at my face.  Finally, I asked Jasmine why she wasn't interested in my body.  Jasmine replied "One look at your erect treasure stick was enough, Aslam... I get my happiness from simply seeing the intense pleasure and excitement on your face as you look at my body.  I'm so glad that my body excites you, Aslam."

Jasmine's body certainly did excite me beyond words or thoughts... English or Arabic.

There was no doubt about it.  I was absolutely convinced that I was gazing upon paradise.  No question.

But there was another paradise that I was experiencing.  It was a paradise that went far beyond physical.
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It was the paradise of being welcomed by Jasmine into her private world of physical love and unclothed physical romance that no one had ever been welcomed into before by her.  It was the paradise of acceptance, emotional bonding, physical warmth, and unconditional love.  It was the paradise of being welcomed into her life, her mind, her heart, and her body. 
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But most of all... it was the paradise of being unconditionally welcomed into the depths of Jasmine's very soul.

Returning my face to hers, we lip kissed while fondling each other down below.  Finally I climbed on top of Jasmine's body, and began slowly rubbing my stiff prick against Jasmine's hairy venus mound.  Soon, my treasure prick erupted a great warm wetness of semen as Jasmine's body arched and shook with excitement.  To my surprise, Jasmine enjoyed the slippery wet mess that had suddenly appeared on her hips, and had begun dribbling down the sides of her.

Afterwards, Jasmine and I held each other and cuddled with the sheet and comforter pulled over us.  We discussed the strong temptation for our bodies to unite and become a living fusion of passion and love and wetness and ecstasy.  Jasmine explained that we were both virgins, and told me that virgins had not united their treasures together internally... which Habib had already explained to me more than a year previously.

Even though Jasmine had never been outside to attend school and had been taught by just a few female tutors, she was wise beyond her years.  Jasmine whispered that we must be very careful not to make a New Baby together, so we must only share our treasures with each other on the outside.  She said that we must remain virgins.

Inside or outside our bodies; virgin or non-virgin; it did not matter to me.  It was still a paradise that was far beyond my wildest dreams, and I thanked Jasmine for sharing her beautiful body with me.

Proudly, I explained to Jasmine everything that Habib had told me about love and sex.
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Jasmine pointed out that I had forgotten Habib's suggestion to put down a bath towel to catch my semen, and her bedsheets were a mess.  We both laughed.  Then Jasmine said "wet humping" with her riding her pussy on top on of my stiff prick sounded really fun, and we would try that the next time.

Curious, I asked Jasmine how she knew so much about naked pleasures and virginity; she replied that on our vacation to the USA, Habib's older sister had explained everything to her... just like Habib had explained everything to me.

That was an interesting coincidence!  We both agreed that Habib and his sister must be intimate lovers... just like us.
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Thus ended our first session of enjoying our naked bodies together.  We promised to do it again in her big canopy bed whenever Father and Mother were gone for the evening.
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Chapter 11:  Disneyland vs. Jasmine's Body
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The next evening after our first naked session together, we were sitting on the padded sofa bench in the courtyard.  I had a sudden epiphany about the grand similarities between Disneyland and Jasmine's body.  I asked Jasmine if she wanted to hear about my epiphany, and she said "YES!!!"... so I started talking, and just made up a bunch of stuff as I went along to fill in the details.

"At first, there would seem to be zero similarities between Disneyland and your body, Jasmine."
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"Disneyland cost millions of dollars, weighs millions of tons, has thousands of employees to operate and maintain it, and is spread across hundreds of acres.  But you, Jasmine... only weigh 115 pounds, you're 5'7", and you were created by Father and Mother for free."

"Still, there are amazing similarities between a gigantic Disneyland and your little body, Jasmine."

"Disneyland is comprised of numerous different regions... Main Street USA, Adventureland, Frontierland, New Orleans Square, Fantasyland, and Tomorrowland... with fun attractions specific to each region."

"Your body, Jasmine, also has different regions... with fun attractions specific to each region.  Your body has:
 - Headland (hair, lips, eyes, tongue, ears, forehead, cheeks, chin, neck); 
 - Torsoland (shoulders, breasts, belly, back);
 - Hipland (pubic hair, venus mound, pussy, clitoris, rump); 
 - Armland (upper arms, elbows, forearms, hand, fingers); and 
 - Legland (thighs, knees, calves, shins, ankles, feet, toes)."

In closing, I discussed my admiration for all of the beautiful different attractions on Jasmine's body.

"Brilliant, Aslam!!!  You're a romantic genius!!!" exclaimed Jasmine.  "And your body is my own private Disneyland, too!!!  Lots of attractions that make me happy.  I love you and your handsome body, Aslam!!!"
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Chapter 12:  Untouchable Beauty 

Since Jasmine enjoyed my analysis of Disneyland versus her body... she asked me to come up with another interesting analysis about her.  

It took a few days, but I finally came up with a short analysis about the stars up in the sky and Jasmine's eyes.
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"The stars up in the sky are the composition of the universe, Jasmine.  Although the stars can be observed, and their beauty appreciated... they're trillions of miles away.   Thus, the stars up in the sky can never be touched.  Never.  Even if the stars were much closer, they are in reality gigantic burning fireballs... beautiful, but deadly at close range."

"So... what could the stars up in the sky possibly have in common with you, Jasmine?  Not size, not heat, not brightness, and not distance... but untouchable beauty."

"What is your untouchable beauty, Jasmine?  Your eyes.  I can gaze upon the incredible beauty of your sparkling dark brown eyes, but I cannot touch them.  Your eyes are too sensitive and fragile to be touched by the fingers, the lips, or the tongue of a lover."

"Yet, Jasmine... your eyes are not only beautiful; they are also the windows through which I can gaze into the depths of your soul.  And I like what I can see."

"But your eyes are much more than mere windows into your soul, Jasmine... your eyes are also able to communicate and transfer the love and affection directly from your soul into my soul.  When our eyes meet, and your pupils expand... it's a signal that you're welcoming me into your soul.  Your eyes transmit romantic love... exactly the same way the stars up in the sky transmit light, and the same way that our closest star... the sun... transmits warmth to us.  The warmth and light from the sun is necessary for life on Earth."

"Love is also necessary for life, Jasmine... in my opinion."

"The love and emotional warmth from your eyes has given me a happy life, Jasmine.  You've made me happier and warmer inside the depths of my heart than I ever thought would be possible.  I love your eyes, Jasmine... and everything else about you!!!"

Was Jasmine happy with my analysis?  Yes... very happy!!!  It brought tears to her beautiful eyes.
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Chapter 13:  The Rarity of Sharing Naked Treasures 

Our big mansion was rarely empty, and so thus the sharing of our naked treasures with each other in Jasmine's big canopy bed was also rare.  Yet the rarity of sharing our naked treasures made those times even more precious, special, intense, and exciting.

The rarity of sharing our naked treasures did not bother us.  The rarity did not bother us because we both loved just meeting every night on our padded sofa bench in the courtyard.

We both loved holding each other, rubbing our cheeks together, nuzzling our noses, kissing each other's lips, sucking on each other's lips, sucking on each other's tongues, rubbing our tongues together, whispering our love into each other's ears, feeling our warm breath on each other's faces, and licking each other's ears.  We both loved sharing romance with each other on the padded sofa bench while being bathed in the constantly changing variations of blue starlight and blue moonlight as the desert breezes swirled gently around us.

During those rare times of naked paradise in Jasmine's bedroom; those were the times when Jasmine began whispering into my ear that she now also wished we could marry.

My whispered wishes were always the same... that we had been born a hundred years previously.  Then we would have been permitted to share our love, marry each other, and consummate our bodies and our souls.

Jasmine's whispered responses to me were always the same... that if my wish were granted, then we would have been long dead from old age.

It became a playful little game that we always whispered those sentences to each other whenever we were unclothed in Jasmine's big canopy bed.

We both greatly enjoyed wet humping on each other.  Jasmine had very intense orgasms... she'd shudder, squirm, wriggle, breathe heavily, and arch her back in ecstasy.

I was so happy that she got so excited with me, my attention, and my body.  It was an incredible sense of freedom.   I loved the wild look on her face when she would have an orgasm while riding on my stiff prick.  We both expressed a yearning desire to consummate our bodies, to consummate our love, and to consummate our souls... but resisted that temptation with all of our willpower.

Chapter 14:  The Space Race

The moon never had the pleasure of seeing us unclothed.  The moon never heard our playful whispers about being born a hundred years ago.  But I think the moon always knew that Jasmine was the wise one.

The growing brightness of a new moon each month would soon bless us with a full moon and lots of light.  Then suddenly, the new moon was transformed into an old moon, and it began to slowly fade away into a crescent... until it finally would disappear altogether.

Every month when the moon finally disappeared, Jasmine would whisper to me that the moon would once again return... because it could not stand to be excluded from shining its light down upon our romantic love.  The moon wanted to watch Jasmine and Aslam kiss, hug, whisper, and hold each other in the courtyard.  The moon smiled down happily upon the romance of Jasmine and Aslam.

The moon must get jealous, Jasmine whispered... on the nights when we would disappear into the mansion to share our naked treasures with each other in her big soft canopy bed.

Many months had passed after Jasmine and I began sharing our lips and naked treasures with each other... when one day, Father announced that the USA was sending spacemen to land on the moon for the very first time.  I scarcely believed him, but was assured that the news was true.  The year was 1969.
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Father explained that the USA and Russia had been informally competing for several years to see which nation would be the first to land spacemen on the moon, to allow spacemen to get out and walk around on the moon's surface, and to return the spacemen safely back home to Earth again.

A few days later, Father awakened all of us (including the servants) in the middle of the night and we gathered around our small television in the downstairs parlor and watched the black & white images of a spaceman taking the first human step onto the moon.  I was captivated, and raced outside to gaze upon the moon... which didn't look any different than the last time I had gazed up at it.
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The next day, Father brought home a fine brass telescope with 3 lacquered wooden legs so Jasmine and I could look closely upon at the full moon later in the evening when the sun had disappeared.  We had to use a green filter on the lens because of the moon's brightness.  I searched in vain for hours trying to find the spacemen, their lunar landing craft, their equipment, or their mother spaceship orbiting above the moon... but saw nothing.

Father showed me another telescope filter that appeared to be black glass.  It was for gazing at the sun.  Father then took the black filter away, and refused permission to let me gaze upon the sun.  "Too dangerous, Alsam.  You should never gaze directly upon the sun... never.  Not even with a filter.  A man can also never gaze upon Allah.  Do not play with fire."

Silently, I wondered if my Father would consider the eager forbidden romantic love that Jasmine and I were sharing as "playing with fire".

Jasmine and I were french kissing on our padded sofa bench one evening very soon after the spacemen had returned and landed safely back on Earth.  That's when she whispered into my ear "Since spacemen have landed on the moon, Aslam... does that mean the moon is no longer a virgin?"

I laughed loudly and could not stop laughing.  The love and affection that I felt for Jasmine did nothing except grow stronger each day and each night.  She was happy, loving, funny, and so sweet.  And so very beautiful.

Weeks later, Father brought home a few magazines with photos taken by the spacemen on the surface of the moon.  There were pictures taken on the moon with the Earth hanging in the distance.  It was enthralling.  I hugged Father, and thanked him.  Many countless hours were spent looking at those pictures and reading the stories explaining the pictures.

There was also a large picture in a big magazine that had been taken of the sun, and the astronomers used a very special filter.  The sun looked like a boiling mass of yellow and orange and red flames, and the appearance of it was very scary.  The accompanying story which explained the picture announced that the sun was so huge, that astronomers who gaze through their telescopes upon the sun's boiling flames with special filters in real time have reported that the boiling flames always appear to be frozen in time.  The reason is because one little flame on the sun was actually as big as our entire world.
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I knew that the sun and the stars were huge fireballs... but the scale of how huge they were wasn't something that I had previously considered.  The thought of how big and hot the sun really was took my breath away.
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Here is an image of the sun:




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Size comparison of Earth & sun:
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And yet God is bigger and more powerful than the sun.  That's when I realized how little I knew about God.  I didn't even know enough about Him to be afraid.

Did the realization about my ignorance of God stop me from loving my sister Jasmine, stop me from sharing our naked treasures, or stop me from thinking constantly about Jasmine and her feminine treasures?  No... it did not stop me.  Neither did it stop Jasmine when I told her about my pondering realizations.

Father began coming home with more information about the sun, moon, planets, and stars that he knew I would find interesting.  One day Father announced that a lunar eclipse would occur later that evening, so Jasmine and I were unable to meet on our padded sofa bench.  Father proudly explained that the sun would cast a shadow from the Earth upon the moon as the moon passed behind us.

After the dinner meal was finished that evening, Father summoned Jasmine and me to our rooftop balcony overlooking the courtyard.  From there I spied the padded sofa bench off in far corner of the courtyard where Jasmine and I had whispered our affection to each other countless other nights, and beyond the courtyard walls were the dim lights of neighboring houses and the town lights away in the distance.

In the sky, the moon was full but looked as though a bite had been taken out of it.

Even though I knew what was happening, I still felt a jolt of fear.  Suddenly, I could understand the fear that I had read about and laughed about... the fear ancient peoples had felt whenever they saw a lunar eclipse, a large comet, or an even more frightening total solar eclipse (which I never had the privilege of witnessing).

Father pointed to the moon and exclaimed "Look, Aslam!!!  Look, Jasmine!!!  Our Earth casts a shadow upon the moon!  Raise your arms and wave with me.  Look, Aslam!  I can see the shadows of our arms waving upon the moon!  Do you see it too, Aslam?"

It was grand having Father spend time with us and make jokes.  We laughed together, and I hugged Father.  He was always so kind and gentle to everyone... including the servants, whom he could have ignored as many in our culture do.

I wondered what Father would say if he found out about the forbidden taboo romance shared between Jasmine and me.  Never violent or rude or loud, Father would have probably spoken a few wise words of warning and discipline to us... but the worst punishment would have been the look of disapproval in his eyes.

Yet I still wished that I could share with Father my feelings of happiness that being with his daughter Jasmine gave me.  I wanted to thank Father for creating Jasmine and the romantic love that she so happily shared with her little brother... even though our love was taboo.

Chapter 15:  The Tears on Her Cheeks
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On a summer Saturday evening while waiting for Father and Mother to depart to attend a special party (they would not return until after midnight), Jasmine and I were playing chess in the billiards room.  As we looked out the big window and saw the taillights of their car departing in the distance, Jasmine and I then turned and gazed into each other's dark eyes and smiled.  It was time to retire into Jasmine's big canopy bed once again.

But as we walked down the hall holding hands, I instead pulled Jasmine into the library.  She was curious, but waited patiently while I started playing some soft classical music on the record player.
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We held each other and danced slowly, hugging, and swaying... cheek-to-cheek.  Feeling our breath in each other's ears... our bellies and hips pushed together... our legs scissored together... it was marvelous.

I pressed my elbows against Jasmine's rib cage, and reached my hands around up her back so that I could hold on to her shoulders.

A few times, Jasmine audibly sniffled.  Moving my head back and turning so that I could look at Jasmine's face, I saw the tears welling up in her eyes.  Slowly closing her eyes, the tears overflowed... two salty little rivers silently cascading down both of her cheeks.

Returning to our cheek-to-cheek position, I whispered softly into Jasmine's ear "Did I do something wrong?  If so, I'm sorry... please forgive me, Jasmine."

Sighing deeply, Jasmine drew a few breaths before whispering her reply.  The words Jasmine whispered into my ear were very slow and deliberate.

"No, Aslam... you did nothing wrong.  Nothing.  On the contrary... the truth is that I've never been happier before in my entire life.  Tonight you proved your love for me beyond any doubt... not that I ever doubted you before."

"We're both teenagers, Aslam... and we both greatly enjoy the splendor of making each other physically happy.  Tonight I was looking forward to pleasing you, and looking forward to being pleased by you."

"But instead of taking me directly into my canopy bed... you brought us in here into the library first to dance with me.  To be with me.  To hold me.  To spend some wonderful time together with our clothes on... even though right now, we could have been naked together instead."

"Aslam, I don't think that I'll ever be happier than I am right now... and it's all because of you... and our love for each other."

"Aslam, for tonight... for these memories... thank you."

Now I was the one who was sniffling.  I was the one whose cheeks were wet with little rivers of salty tears.  They were tears of joy.  Tears of love.

Jasmine and I wiped each other's tears, and smiled.

Yes... we did walk holding each other into Jasmine's bedroom.
   
Yes... we did slowly strip for each other illuminated by candlelight.

Yes... we did hug, kiss, and wet hump naked.

Yes... we did share an incredibly intense simultaneous orgasm together that night.

That was probably the most intense orgasm of my entire life... ever.  Sometimes, an experience is so amazing and yet so random... that the intensity simply can never be duplicated again.
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Father was right... it's the little unplanned moments in time that make the most fantastic memories.  The incredible love that Jasmine and I shared together that night is something that I'll never forget.  Never.
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Chapter 16:  A Thousand Splendid Nights
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For a thousand splendid nights, Jasmine and I shared love and affection in a courtyard serenaded by crickets under the blue light of a billion stars, and then there were the rare times when no one was home and we shared love and affection unclothed in Jasmine's big canopy bed.

Of course, there were rainy nights when we sat lip kissing on another padded sofa bench under the protection of a big canvas canopy.  On those nights, instead of being serenaded by crickets... we were serenaded by the sound of raindrops pattering in the darkness; sometimes illuminated briefly by a flash of lightning.

The mansion and courtyard that we both had once thought was a cruel prison had been magically transformed into a wonderful palace where the paradise of our romantic love and the paradise of our bodies could be shared.
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Chapter 17:  Goodbye, Middle East!!!
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When I was in high school at age 16, our entire family suddenly emigrated to the USA.  There was no warning.  Jasmine and I were initially informed that we would once again be visiting our relatives in the San Francisco Bay area of Northern California for a few weeks in the summer, as we had done previously for the summer vacation when I was 12.

But when we touched down on the airport runway in California, Father solemnly and quietly announced that we would be living in the USA forever.  None of us would ever return to our country of birth.  Never.  Not ever.
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Father stated the reason for us leaving our country of birth was because whenever a country is run by a single group of fanatics... whether religious or political... then it's a recipe for disaster.  Father was concerned about the long-term stability of our country due to the fanatics who were in charge.  

Father also stated that returning to our country for a visit would be unwise and dangerous, even if things were stable.
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Curious, I kept pressing Father for more details.

The reason we could never return was because of the 2 year military service requirement for all young men, Father explained.  To protect your home country is expected and honorable... in an honorable country.  Our country was not run honorably, though.  The men in power were crazy, in Father's opinion.
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If any member of our family ever returned to our country of birth in the Middle East, then the government would probably confiscate their passport and forbid them passage back to the USA... until Aslam returned and fulfilled his 2 year military service requirement.  There would likely be long interrogations, verbal threats, physical beatings, torture, and financial assessments upon whomever the officials had in custody.  If those incidents of official abuse occurred... then the likelihood of the victims ever being allowed passage back to the USA would be very low.  That was completely unacceptable.

I was mainly concerned about our 2 tortoises.  Father assured me they would be taken care of.  Our mansion, our belongings, our car, and Father's business had all been sold to trustworthy people that Father had known for many years.  All of the money would be used to make a new life for our family in the USA.

The buyers of our mansion agreed to keep all of the servants employed as staff members so that none of them would lose their jobs.  And our tortoises would be kept on as pets in the courtyard.  That was very kind and thoughtful of Father.

The only material items that I missed were my die-cast model cars, my brass telescope, and my space magazines.  I wondered if anyone would ever again have the pleasure of sitting on the padded sofa bench in the far corner of the courtyard... kissing romantically under a silent cascade of blue starlight.

Otherwise, nothing else mattered.  Jasmine and I still had each other, although we had no privacy to share any romantic love for a month as we stayed at our relative's house (other than sneaking a few moments french kissing together locked in the bathroom while we pretended to be brushing our teeth).
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Gazing up at the sky one evening, I suddenly realized that I also missed seeing a billion stars overhead.  The bright lights from the densely populated urban cities in Northern California effectively reduced the stars that could be seen to perhaps a few dozen.  That part of our new life was the only sad thing.  Considering some of the refugee stories that I'd read about and seen photos of... the lack of stars in the sky was nothing to complain about.
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But... lots of other people lament the nighttime brightness of modern cities:



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Chapter 18:  Not Exactly a Mansion
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Our family looked at two condominiums that were available for sale in a tall building located in the hills on the east side of the San Francisco Bay in an exclusive neighborhood that Father had decided would be our new home.

There was one condo unit available which was a 3 bedroom on the ground floor... with a view of the parking structure.  Although I had enjoyed playing with cars... a parking structure wasn't a good view to look at every day from your home.

The other condo unit available was a 2 bedroom on the 10th floor with a breathtaking view of the Bay... with the San Francisco skyline, the Bay Bridge, the Golden Gate Bridge, and Alcatraz Island visible in the distance.

Father announced that he would purchase the 3 bedroom unit on the ground floor, so that Jasmine and I would each have a bedroom.

Immediately I spoke up, and said the 2 bedroom unit on the 10th floor with the breathtaking view would be better for us... because the view was literally amazing.
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I volunteered to sleep on a couch if Father would simply purchase a couch big enough for me to stretch out on.  My own bedroom was not needed, I assured Father.

Jasmine and Mother agreed, and so Father said "OK!!!"
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The four of us moved into that 2 bedroom condo on the 10th floor.  A few hanging tapestries, a few Arabic floor rugs, some Arabic themed furniture, some burning incense, a couple of Arabic pictures on the wall, some Arabic music, some Arabic food (we all had to learn how to cook)... and we were at home once again.
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Chapter 19:  Father's New Business
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Father initially thought about opening a grocery store, but instead decided to open a large jewelry store in an upscale city nearby.  It was Mother's idea... higher profit margins, shorter hours, no heavy lifting, no perishables, no expiration dates, no refrigeration equipment, no inspections from the health department, fewer employees.

Several months passed with Father attempting to work with the local City and County government officials to get all of the necessary permits, approvals, and licenses.

Father would often return home in the evening after a day trying to get his store opened, complaining about how "All government employees are idiots... overpaid, underworked, lazy, impossible to get fired.  They're like boulders with eyeballs!!!"
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But the jewelry store was finally opened.  It worked out well, and it was profitable.  Jasmine and I both helped out in the store as needed.
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Chapter 20:  The Balcony Bistro
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A condo is not a mansion, but Jasmine and I loved that little condo.

In reality, the little condo was just as good as our giant mansion back home in the Middle East.  The lack of servants gave us privacy for unclothed romantic loving whenever Mother and Father were both out.  It was paradise once again... because Jasmine and I continued to share love, romance, and affection with each other.

Father and Mother went shopping at a large hardware store one weekend and returned with two bistro sets: a total of 4 wrought iron chairs and 2 small circular tables... beautifully finished in a dark green color that appeared to have a weathered patina.  The sets were perfect for our small 10th floor balcony right outside our living room.

The view of the San Francisco skyline and the Golden Gate Bridge across the Bay was incredible... and even more so at sunset.  Our family would eat most of our meals on the balcony... weather permitting.
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Jasmine and I would often eat our meals out there on the balcony whenever we were alone at sunset... because the view was so romantic.

Whenever I stood at the edge of the balcony railing and looked straight down to the pool area 10 floors below, though... there was a definite sensation of brutal terror down in my groin region.  It felt as though my prick was actually shrinking, and as though my testicles were trying to hoist themselves upwards into my body for protection.  It was quite odd, because I'd never experienced that feeling in my groin during any other moments of pleasure or fear.

The butterflies in my belly were different, though.  The butterflies seemed to be present during many different types of events.  Obviously, when I was with Jasmine... the butterflies would be happily fluttering.  Or during the 75-foot parachute drop ride at a traveling carnival back in the Middle East.  Or when I had to give an oral report in front of my classmates.
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<<While sitting at my desk during lunch one day at work in June 2015, 
on a whim I started sketching a rough image of the San Francisco Bay
 as seen from the balcony of Mother & Father's condo.>> 

Here is that sketch:



Chapter 21:  Cozy Bed Partners

After a month had passed with our family living happily in the 10th floor condo, Jasmine suddenly announced during a dinner meal one evening that "Aslam should not have to sleep on the couch.  I want him to share my room and to share my double bed.  I love Aslam, Father.  Please!"

My breath stopped from fear.  Where did this idea come from?  Was Jasmine trying to ignite a wrath in Father that we had never before witnessed?  Why had I not been warned by Jasmine about this?!?!?

To my utter surprise, Father was calmly staring at Jasmine and initially said nothing... although his eyebrows did raise up in surprise.
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Finally Father asked "Really, Jasmine? Aslam in your bed?"
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Jasmine stood up very slowly, deliberately leaned forward, and placed her hands on the table.  She stared into Father's eyes and spoke slowly... "Father... do you HONESTLY think that Aslam ever would attempt to do anything inappropriate with me?  I love him, I respect him, and he feels exactly the same way about me.  Aslam deserves to have access to a comfortable warm bed.  He's my only brother, he's my only sibling, and I want him to be happy.  Please!"

It worked!!!  Father simply shrugged and permitted me to share the second bedroom with Jasmine... in her bed!!!  Happily, we excitedly french kissed and cuddled unclothed late every night with each other in that second bedroom... although the moon was never permitted to witness our love again.

In the USA, Jasmine made new girl friends.  A few girls gave her some bad advice... like having casual sex with random guys is normal... or that it would be OK to get drunk, smoke pot, and use illegal drugs.  Pretty soon, Jasmine stopped talking to those girls.

But all of Jasmine's girl friends knew lots of things about sex (like Habib and his sister did), and they knew everything about how the naked treasures between our legs worked.  Jasmine asked how to have a New Baby when she got married.  One of her friends carefully explained sexual intercourse, fertility, and the relationship to female menstrual cycles.  Several others in the group nodded in agreement.

Instead of wanting to have a New Baby when she got married... Jasmine secretly wanted to know how to avoid having a New Baby while enjoying "no-condom" sexual intercourse with her little brother Alsam.

Jasmine began keeping detailed records of her female menstrual cycle, and made little red marks on a calendar posted on our bedroom wall for a few months.  Finally, she figured out a safe schedule where she and I could start engaging in sexual intercourse with each other and not create a New Baby.
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Chapter 22:  The "Marriage" Between Sibling Lovers
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Late one night when we were french kissing and holding each other naked in bed, Jasmine whispered her new plan into my ear for the first time.  Jasmine wanted to feel my prick inside her pussy... and she wanted to feel the warmth of my semen squirting into the depths of her body.

We would become REAL lovers, and Jasmine told me the specific date when we would lose our virginity to each other... about two weeks away.  It was amazing news, and I was beyond excited.  I thanked Jasmine, and whispered my love into her ear.

The next day, I purchased two matching silver necklaces at Father's jewelry store... one for each of us.

When the date on the calendar finally arrived that we were scheduled to lose our virginity to each other, I picked out two small spiced cupcakes with rich white buttercream frosting from a local bakery down the street.

In our bedroom later that night, I presented to Jasmine the two spiced cupcakes and the two silver necklaces.  Once again, I asked Jasmine to marry me.  That night would be our "honeymoon".

That night I wanted Jasmine to know how much I loved her, how much I appreciated her, and how much I wanted to commit myself to her... so I proposed and explained my "wedding & marriage" plans to her:
 - We would each wear a matching silver necklace instead of a wedding band.
 - The spiced cupcakes were symbolic of our wedding cake... symbolic of the hot spicy romantic forbidden love that we were sharing.
 - The white creamy frosting on the cupcake was to symbolize the semen from my treasure prick that would soon be deposited directly into the depths of Jasmine's body... instead of squirting myself on her belly, or on her venus mound & bush, or on my belly (when we wet humped each other with me on the bottom).
 - If Jasmine was willing, then I vowed to remain her partner forever.... as "sibling roommates" to the rest of the world, but intimate lovers behind closed doors.  I told Jasmine that I didn't want to find anyone else... because she was my first true love and would always be my love.

Jasmine happily accepted my proposal, but stated that our marriage would only be temporary... until "the clock ran out" on our marriage and our romantic love, so to speak.  

Quietly explaining that she wanted to be a mommy and have kids, Jasmine would thus need to locate a real husband who could legally marry her and impregnate her.  A blood brother would be unable fill that role... unless we ran away together, which we briefly discussed and neither of us wanted to do.

I agreed to romantically love Jasmine for as long as she wanted me to love her.

We sat on the bed, and fed each other a spiced cupcake with a glass of ice cold milk by candlelight in our bedroom.  Not brushing our teeth, we french kissed and enjoyed the taste of spiced cupcake and buttercream frosting in each other's mouths and on each other's tongues.

Afterwards, we gently made love and lost our virginity to each other.  I preferred using the term "made love" instead of sexual intercourse or fucking, because it sounded much more romantic.  Once again, I thought that I had died and entered paradise eternal.

Every night, we french kissed and made love.  Our honeymoon lasted for 7 calendar days, and sometimes we'd make love again early in the morning if we awoke before dawn.

It was important that we were to be very quiet and do things slowly.  No moaning, screaming, or banging the bed around.  We held each other tightly while making love, and the feeling of my slippery juice squirting from the tip of my stiffened pleasure prick so deeply into Jasmine's warm pussy was indescribably wonderful.

So about every fourth week, Jasmine and I would make love for 7 days according to her calendar schedule.  During the 3 weeks that we could not make love, Jasmine and I enjoyed wet humping each other.  Paradise just kept getting better and better.
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Chapter 23:  The Little Vault Doors

Being able to squirt my semen deeply into Jasmine's pussy was fantastic.  But I also greatly enjoyed the feeling afterward the orgasm.  We'd just lie there in bed with me on top of Jasmine, cheek-to-cheek, breathing in each other's ears... my forearms under Jasmine's back and with my hands holding her shoulders.
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I'd still have my stiff prick inside Jasmine's pussy, but the undulating and gentle thrusting had stopped after the orgasm.  Slowly, my stiff prick would begin to deflate and shrink as it withdrew itself from Jasmine's warm paradise.  Her pussy was tight, and the feeling was almost as though my prick was being squeezed out... not simply deflating.

My favorite feeling was the moment that the tip of my retracting prick was slowly shrinking backwards... as if it was bidding farewell... and withdrawing itself out of Jasmine's pussy.  That's when the tip of my prick would feel Jasmine's pussy lips slowly close themselves as the tip my prick finally passed outside the threshold of her body.

It was as though a tiny set of soft and warm little vault doors... Jasmine's pussy lips... were closing off to safely contain all of the liquid treasure that had just been passionately discharged inside her body.  Jasmine's pussy didn't want any of Aslam's semen to get wasted or leak out.  Every warm drop of slippery semen was precious inside the depths of Jasmine's beautiful body.

Did we ever consider using a condom?  Absolutely not.  A condom sounded about as romantic as putting a big piece of plastic kitchen wrap between our mouths, lips, and tongues while french kissing... "for protection".  Romantic?  NOT!!!

If Jasmine had gotten pregnant with a New Baby from me, we decided that would have been just fine.  We would have thought of something... but an abortion would never have been an option.
Chapter 24:  The Science of Romantic Love

Jasmine and I often enjoyed whispering quietly to each other in the silent darkness of our bedroom after making love.
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After Jasmine had graduated from high school and began attending classes at a local university, she was taking a "Science vs. Philosophy" class as an elective.  Jasmine often whispered her random thoughts to me, and she found this class very interesting.  The discussions and writing assignments in that class were starting to make her think about things from a new perspective.

One night, Jasmine was pondering how romantic love differed from other types of love, so I suggested that she please whisper her thoughts.  I volunteered to be silent... to just lie next to her, holding her, cuddling her, nuzzling her face, and kissing her cheek. 

"Well, Aslam... can love really be measured?  Quantified?  Observed?"

"Love can be demonstrated through actions, but it cannot be captured or isolated."

"And the term 'falling in love' seems to be used only for romantic love... which makes it seem almost like it's a strong natural force and not simply a choice."

"For example, the pull of gravity is not a choice.  A person cannot choose to ignore gravity.  But we cannot see gravity.  It cannot be captured, bottled, or touched... although gravity's effects and its strength can be measured and calculated.  But gravity's strength is irresistible.  And you cannot hide from it.  It transcends as if by magic right through everything."

"Romantic love is irresistible, in my opinion. No one can hide from it."

"Other types of love always seem to appear because of circumstances.  We love our family members, assuming that they are reasonably decent to us. And lots of people love their pets and sleep with them in bed... which is odd to me, but we didn't grow up here in this culture."

"But 'falling in love' seems to mean that it happens spontaneously.  No one chooses to fall off a cliff, do they?  No, if they want to do something like that and be suspended in the air for a few seconds... then they would jump, or dive... hopefully into some deep water.  Nobody would fall on purpose."

"People enjoy falling in love, Aslam.  I fell in love with you the first time I held you on the padded sofa bench... because you were so sweet and humble.  You were sorry for peeping on me, and you didn't push me away.  I didn't know that I would fall in love with you that night."

"But just being able to hold you close, Aslam... and being held by you... that was the best night of my life up until that moment.  Suddenly, I understood what the term 'freedom' meant."

"Of course, I've had better days and better nights since then... all because of you, Aslam.  I love you, Aslam... and I always will!!!"

That was when I gently whispered my love into Jasmine's ear in the darkness.  She fell asleep with me cuddled up next to her... listening to her breathing until I also drifted off to sleep.
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Chapter 25:  The Midnight Fire Alarm

The door on the bedroom that Jasmine and I shared had no locking mechanism on the handle.  Did we ever get caught in an embarrassing situation?  Sort of.

At 3 AM one cold winter night, everyone was asleep when the building fire alarm sounded.
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Father burst into our bedroom, switched on the light, yanked off the comforter and sheet, and was yelling for us to get out immediately.  Jasmine was in her nightie, but I was asleep next to her... sprawled out naked.
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Awaking from our slumber, I grabbed the comforter and we all lumbered down 10 flights of stairs... me in boxers and a T-shirt; Jasmine in her nightie.  The smell of smoke was evident, but it wasn't thick and there was only a barely visible haze.

Outside in the parking lot, a crowd of hundreds were gathering; huddled against the cold.  Jasmine and I were huddled together under our comforter, hugging each other cheek to cheek.

The building superintendent came racing outside looking very frazzled,  and he started shouting "Hey... move the fuck outta the driveway, you idiots!!!  That's where the fucking fire trucks will be parking!!!"

Jasmine and I giggled as we hugged each other against the bitter cold; our bodies warmly draped by the comforter.  It was funny, because the building superintendent had always been so calm and polite before this incident
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The sirens of the approaching fire brigade in the distance were growing louder.  After the firemen arrived and raced into the building, everyone had to wait outside while the firemen did their work.  It was just a small kitchen fire, but the entire building had to be ventilated.

I savored hugging Jasmine and rubbing her hips under the comforter while in the middle of a huge crowd... with Father and Mother under their comforter only a few feet away.

The red warning beams from the rotating gumball beacons mounted on the cab roofs of the fire trucks swept across Jasmine's black hair... which seemed to make it sparkle.  Once again, I thought about how beautiful Jasmine is under all circumstances.  She's even beautiful when sick in bed; as I would gently tend to her and feed her warm chicken soup.
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Leaning closer, I whispered into Jasmine's ear "In front of all these people... Aslam hereby declares his undying romantic love for his beautiful sister Jasmine!"

A strong hug and a few gentle giggles was Jasmine's response.

The all-clear was sounded, and the crowd surged back into the building.  Our family climbed the stairs instead of waiting for the elevators.

Back inside the warmth of our condo, Father made some tea.  We sat around the table, and Father asked Jasmine if she minded that Aslam slept naked next to her in bed.  "Of course not, Father... I love Aslam.  He is free to be himself around me.  We are not ashamed or embarrassed by our bodies."

I was awed by Jasmine's brilliance... both by what she said, and also by what she didn't say.  Jasmine's words were carefully chosen, and they were not lies.

Father didn't seem to be concerned.  Neither did Mother seem the slightest bit concerned.  The issue of Aslam being naked in bed with Jasmine was never mentioned again.
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Chapter 26:  The Thrill of Cuddling 
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Being able to routinely share a bed every single night with each other was truly a dream come true for both Jasmine and me... an amazing dream that we had never thought would be possible.
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Before being blessed with sharing bed together, essentially all of our previous naked encounters, while wonderful... always had an underlying element of rushed excitement.  The time was limited.  We couldn't fall asleep in each other's arms or doze off spooning each other, because Father and Mother would be soon returning.

There were a few exceptions when we did have the pleasure of spending the entire night in bed and into the morning together, such as when Father and Mother took a little one night romantic vacation away to a nearby luxury hotel... but that was rare. 

Sharing a bed as a matter of routine now allowed Jasmine and me to happily enjoy ourselves quietly every single night.  Now, every single night was a thrilling night of affectionate pleasure and emotional bonding... and the pleasures were simple, in my view.

My greatest pleasures at night weren't the breathless orgasms.  Although sharing orgasms with Jasmine were always incredibly fantastic... the orgasms were concluded relatively early each night.

The greatest pleasures that I shared with Jasmine was nothing more than the gentle cuddling and the caressing of her soft and warm body.  Our cuddle sessions were enjoyed as foreplay before wet humping or before making love, and also enjoyed as an afterglow following our orgasms.

It took me a few months to finally figure out why I found our relaxed and unhurried cuddling sessions to be so deeply satisfying.  It was because of Jasmine's petite little rump.

We would usually cuddle by laying face-to-face on our sides.  Jasmine always laid on her right side, while I always laid on my left side.  In that position, my right hand would be free to gently rub and caress most of Jasmine's entire naked body... starting from her shoulders, down her sides, reaching around her back, coming forward to her hips, working behind to rub and massage the left moon of her soft little rump, transitioning downward to her left thigh, and finally finishing at her left knee.  My hand would then slowly work its way up the length of Jasmine's body to her shoulder... to slowly pause and then start the process all over once again.

Jasmine's soft little rump in the middle of her petite body seemed to be the focal point of our cuddling... or, at least it was to me.  Although I greatly enjoyed feeling Jasmine's left hand caressing my body the same way that my right hand caressed hers... I think that I probably enjoyed caressing her body more than she enjoyed caressing mine.  Why?  Because her body was so warm and feminine, and her skin was flawlessly soft & perfect... like living velvet.  My skin was hairy and imperfect.

Of course Jasmine did seem to enjoy caressing my body... but the truth is that I think that males in general get the better deal when having a beautiful female to love.

The most grand cuddling pleasure that I enjoyed was pausing at the base of Jasmine's little rump, where I could savor exploring how the bottom of her soft little moon rump transitioned to her upper thigh.  Feeling and rubbing my fingers along the little "hinge line" at that area was a thrill that I enjoyed greatly.
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Most of the time that Jasmine and I cuddled and massaged each other's bodies was spent with our faces together... french kissing.  Feeling Jasmine's warm breath on my face and in my mouth was another pleasure that I savored every night.

Sometimes Jasmine would get tired of lying on her right side, so she'd stretch out on her back.  I'd continue laying on my left side, but lean over on her body and put my right leg between her legs as we'd continue to french kiss and massage each other's bodies.  That position did allow me the freedom to include Jasmine's soft breasts as objects that were now more readily available for my caressing hands.

Whispering "lower" into my ear as we frenched with Jasmine laying on her back was always a signal that she wanted my mouth to transition downward to give some pleasure to her petite little breasts... where I would spend lots of time licking and sucking on her dark nipples.  Jasmine's breathing rate always increased as her soft nipples hardened when they were stimulated by my tongue and the suction from my lips.  Sometimes, Jasmine would softly cry out with a pleasured trill as I used my teeth to gently gnaw and pull on her nipples.
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Chapter 27:  A Few "Broad-Minded" Activities 
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After making love one night, Jasmine whispered into my ear about one of her female classmates who claimed to enjoy doing anal.  Jasmine whispered that anal was gross and disgusting... to which I asked "What do you think that girl would say about Jasmine fucking her own little brother Aslam?"

Jasmine asked if she needed to become more open-minded, and I said definitely yes... but then I immediately stated that I certainly didn't want to insert my prick into Jasmine's butthole.

So instead, I whispered a suggestion that we should take a shower together tomorrow morning... because Father and Mother would be gone from early morning until late afternoon.  In the shower, we could wash each other's buttholes!!!  We'd never taken a shower together before.  Jasmine said "OK, but you just wash my butthole... I don't wanna wash yours!!!"

The next morning after Father and Mother had departed, we made love in bed before showering together.  In the shower, Jasmine was nervous and embarrassed about our plan, but I patiently reassured her.

Under the gentle spray of warm water, we soaped each other up and enjoyed the slippery feeling of naked wet skin sliding against naked wet skin.  Finally, we embraced face-to-face.  I soaped up my hands, wrapped them around Jasmine's rump, and slowly worked the fingers of my right hand into the crack between the twin moons of her beautiful soft little rump.  

Jasmine's eyes were big and staring into my eyes as my fingers explored her rump crack, and finally located her little wrinkled butthole.  I smiled as I felt her little butthole squeeze tightly and the soft moons of her rump clenched in response to my probing fingers.  I could feel the hairs down there, encircling her little butthole.

The pupils in Jasmine's eyes got larger as she stared into my eyes, and her breathing became heavy as she squeaked and tensed and giggled.  I held on tightly to Jasmine's slippery warm body as she wriggled and squirmed with excitement.

Staring into her face, I noticed the dozens of little tiny water droplets that were arrayed like sparkling diamonds on Jasmine's long black eyelashes.  Those little water droplets on Jasmine's eyelashes looked more beautiful to me than any of the expensive diamonds that I had ever seen in stock at our family's jewelry store.

Father was right... again.  It's the little unplanned moments in time that make the most fantastic memories.  The sparkling diamonds of those tiny water droplets on Jasmine's black eyelashes is an image that I'll never forget.  Never.

Afterwards, Jasmine said the butthole washing experience was "pretty fun" but she didn't want to do it again... although Jasmine said that she definitely wanted us to shower together whenever we had the opportunity.

I told Jasmine that being given permission to wash and explore her butthole made me feel super special... because that intimate part of her body is REALLY intimate.  I thanked Jasmine for allowing me to explore and wash her butthole, and we frenched kissed for a few minutes.

The next day, I worked up the courage to ask Jasmine if I could please play with her feet.  I said that I wanted to kiss, lick, and suck on her toes.  She quickly said "OK!!!"  We took another shower together, during which I carefully washed her feet & toes.

After drying off and lying naked on the bed together, Jasmine greatly enjoyed having her feet massaged, kissed, fondled, and caressed.  Having her toes licked and sucked turned her on the most, though... she started writhing and rutting with pleasure.  She seemed to especially enjoy my tongue rubbing between her big toe and the toe next to it.  I liked being able to suck on her toes, while gazing between her thighs at her wet pussy... which she had begun massaging and rubbing with her fingers.  And squeezing her venus mound.  It was an amazing view.  We both finished with a mutual orgasm.

What started out as just an experiment of my little fetish with Jasmine's feet and toes was so enjoyable, that we agreed to do it whenever our parents would be out for a few hours during the 3 weeks when we could not make love.  First a mutual shower with us washing each other, me washing her feet & toes, getting out and drying each other off, and then laying on our bed.  I'd lie in a reversed position against Jasmine's legs and body with my mouth at her toes, and my prick rubbing itself to orgasm facing south on her belly towards her bush of black pubic hair.

It was great, because our "toe orgasms" could be enjoyed anytime.  We didn't have to worry about Jasmine getting pregnant... although we did have to be careful that my semen didn't squirt all over the lower part of her bush and then dribble down over her pussy lips (unless the calendar day had a red dot; then we could do whatever we wanted to do).

The toe orgasms that we shared together were a nice alternative to wet humping when Jasmine might be fertile and we could not make love.
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Chapter 28:  The Magic Pillow

When I was a senior in high school, Father and Mother decided to take a month's vacation traveling around the world to China, India, Japan, and Europe.  Some of their trip would be written off Father's income taxes as a business expense, because they were looking for new suppliers and unusual jewelry creations to purchase.
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When Jasmine found out that we would be left alone for a month in the family condo, she was ecstatic with happiness.

"I'm gonna blow your mind the first time we can make love after Father and Mother have gone on their vacation, Aslam!!!" was what Jasmine enjoyed whispering into my ear for several months as the date for Father and Mother's trip grew closer.

But despite my interest and questioning, Jasmine didn't give much detail about what would be happening between us... except that it would be "magical".

To be honest, I wasn't expecting any extra fireworks from Jasmine at that point.  I already loved her more than life itself.  Our toe orgasms were fantastic; as were our orgasms during wet humping and intercourse.  The french kissing needed no improvements.  Lying next to Jasmine's soft warm body in our bed every night and listening to her rhythmic breathing as I drifted off to dreamland was immensely satisfying... and waking up next to her every morning was no less pleasurable.  

Just spending time with Jasmine fully clothed was fun.  Simply looking into her eyes gave me butterflies... even after years of being her lover.

After Father and Mother departed on their world tour, Jasmine and I enjoyed ourselves for a week.  The calendar said that I could not squirt off inside Jasmine's pussy yet... so we shared love and affection without intercourse.  The french kissing, wet humping, foot & toe fun, and showering together were all wonderfully enjoyable.  And I was still looking back fondly on the time I was allowed to gently wash Jasmine's little butthole.

Finally, the day arrived when my stiff prick was given clearance to safely enter Jasmine's amazing pussy.  In the early afternoon, Jasmine and I sat on the couch and french kissed for at least an hour; fully clothed.  I loved Jasmine dearly, and she was so hot... there honestly didn't seem to be anything she could do that would take me to a higher level of excitement.  Jasmine already had me in orbit.

While we were frenching each other, I did notice that Jasmine's right hand was spending a lot of time massaging and rubbing my chest... mostly right over my heart.

After an hour, Jasmine whispered that she was ready to blow my mind.  She ordered me to stay seated on the couch, got up, went into our room, and closed the door.  She was only gone a few minutes.

When the door opened, Jasmine casually strolled out.  She was wearing a baggy pair of black gym athletic shorts, and a big white t-shirt with a pillow stuffed under the t-shirt... evidently, to make herself appear to be significantly pregnant.  The sight actually did take my breath away.

Sitting down next to me on the couch, Jasmine once again placed her hand on my chest and quietly announced "Aslam, I'm pregnant with our Baby.  It's true.  I guess there must have been a little mistake somehow on the calendar and how I counted the days of my fertility.  What should we do, Aslam?  Father and Mother will be home in a few weeks.  What will we tell them?  Do you think they'll notice my big belly?"

I was speechless... and my heart was definitely pounding wildly in my chest.  Was this a confession? A joke?  A prank?  A test?

The adrenaline was coursing like gasoline through my veins and arteries... while my jolted head was quickly trying to make sense out of of the situation.  Looking into Jasmine's beautiful face, I melted with happiness from the love that was evident in her sparkling brown eyes. 

Stuttering and fumbling for words, I asked Jasmine if she was kidding... and if not, that was fine.  I loved her, and the thought of her having our Baby was exciting.... but Father and Mother wouldn't be happy... right?  Right?  HELLO?!?!?

Finally, Jasmine burst out laughing.  Yes, this was just an experiment.  Jasmine wanted to surprise me in a big way.  She wanted to feel the difference in my heartbeat strength before and after "the news".

Jasmine wasn't disappointed by my reaction... she enjoyed the feeling of my heart beating wildly inside my chest, seeing my eyes widen, and hearing my breathing rate increase.  And she also enjoyed the feeling of being able to give me a huge jolt of adrenaline... thus taking me to a new level of excitement.

To my surprise, Jasmine's experiment really was a grand success.  Jasmine actually did manage to take me to a new level of excitement that I had never dreamed would be possible.  Jasmine did put my emotions into a higher orbit.  All it took was her "magic pillow" and a simple few words.  Wow.

Was I angry or upset?  No... Jasmine's experiment really was brilliant, I thought.  She took me on an emotional rollercoaster when I didn't believe that there was anything new left for us to do together... because I thought that we had already done everything.  

After confessing her experiment, Jasmine asked if we could continue the role-playing... and of course, I agreed.  We hugged and kissed, and discussed our "options".  The adrenaline continued to course through my veins.  We agreed to keep the Baby.  Would we confess to Father and Mother the truth about our love?  Or would we say that Jasmine got impregnated by some guy at a party during a horny lapse of judgment?

My love and affection for Jasmine... and my admiration of her creativity and her bravery... grew in those moments.  It was a grand experiment.  I enjoyed being Jasmine's helpless little guinea pig.

After our discussion, Jasmine said that she was wet between the legs and she wanted to feel me inside her.  But the experiment wasn't over... her big t-shirt and her "magic pillow" would need to stay on during our making love session.

"Cool!" was my response.

In our bed, as I was removing Jasmine's black shorts and pink panties, she told me to leave the t-shirt and pillow in place.  Jasmine then admonished "Aslam, please be careful of our Baby when we make love!!!  You can't just lie on top of me... so prop yourself up with your arms, and don't put any pressure on my big belly!!!"

Following Jasmine's instructions, I was on top of Jasmine but holding myself up with my arms straight so her big "pregnant" belly was free from my weight.  In that position, for the first time ever I was able to look down and watch my prick sliding in and out of Jasmine's pussy.  Everything was shiny with all of the wetness down there, just like it was whenever Jasmine was on top and I had watched hundreds of time previously every time we had wet humped each other.

After we had shared a simultaneous orgasm together, Jasmine took off the t-shirt and pillow.  I told Jasmine that I enjoyed the experiment, and that it definitely gave me lots of butterflies in my belly and in my chest.

Jasmine asked if I enjoyed watching my prick undulating inside her.  I had to admit that although it was exciting, I still preferred being cheek-to-cheek with her.  The sensation of having my face buried in her fragrant long black hair... and feeling her warm breath in my ear as we made love... was my preference.  Jasmine admitted that cheek-to-cheek was her favorite position for making love also.

Jasmine whispered that she thought all guys were "visual creatures".  She wondered quietly  why I didn't seem to enjoy watching our bodies meshing together while I was on top... but then why did I love watching everything when she was on top during wet humping?

That was a good question!  Why were my preferences seemingly contradictory?

So... I had to think about Jasmine's question for several minutes before I was even able to figure out the answer.

"Well, Jasmine... here's my explanation.  I love watching you wet humping on me because I can rest my arms on your thighs while my hands hold on to your bare hips.  Then I can reach up and rub your sides, and I can gently reach up a little higher and caress your beautiful little boobs and your perky nipples.  And I can rub up and down your belly with my hands.  Or return my hands to your hips.  Or rub your thighs with my hands.  It's all very intimate."

"When I'm on top and I lay down on your body, it's true that I can't see anything... but I don't need to see anything.  Why?  Because our cheeks are slowly and lovingly rubbing together... and the feeling of your warm breath in my ear excites me beyond my wildest dreams.  I'm supporting myself by my elbows, but my forearms are under your back with my hands reaching up to hold on to your shoulders.  It's a sense of intimacy and emotional bonding that transcends anything visual."

"But having sex that way we just did... with me supporting myself above your body and looking down to watch our genitals meshing together... that seems to be more like barbaric lust instead of a bonding intimacy of love.  It just doesn't feel as though our souls are fusing together."

"That's my answer, Jasmine."

A few moments passed and Jasmine said nothing as we held each other... until she whispered "Thank you, Aslam... I love you" in my ear.

We did role-play a few times after that day, about Jasmine being pregnant... and her "pregnancy" always did give me an additional surge of butterflies.  I liked the way that Jasmine looked in her black shorts with a pillow under her big t-shirt.  We enjoyed the thrill it gave us... the same way being on a rollercoaster or going through a haunted house gave riders a thrill.  But we never used the "magic pillow" again under Jasmine's big t-shirt while making love.
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Chapter 29:  From High School to University

Somehow, I managed to graduate from high school.  How I graduated is a mystery... because when we arrived in the USA, I was assigned to the "dumb-dumb" class in first year algebra during my sophomore year.  The "dumb-dumb" class stretched out what normal students take in 2 semesters into 3 semesters (including summer session).  I did the same thing for second year algebra in my junior year, and again for geometry in my senior year.  Took one year of chemistry, and barely passed that class.
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Trying to figure out what to do after graduating, I consulted Habib for advice.  He was now married, and working as a civil engineer.  Habib laughed when he heard Father's suggestion that I get a degree in business, and go into hotel management.  Did I want to take over Father's jewelry business?  No.  So Habib suggested a degree in civil engineering.

"Just show up sober to class every day, Aslam, and turn in the homework assignments... and you'll do fine." was Habib's advice.  Since I didn't enjoy drinking alcohol and had never been drunk... maybe Habib's advice would work for me.

So I began studying civil engineering at a local university.  I figured if that particular occupation has been around since the Roman Empire... then maybe I could pass the classes.
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Chapter 30:  Chung's Laws

In first semester chemistry class, my university instructor was Professor Chung.  He was hilarious, and the class often laughed at his comments... even though he wasn't trying to be funny.
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The closest example that I could compare Professor Chung to would be William Hung... who became fairly well-known after an American Idol audition in 2004.
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Professor Chung enjoyed trying to give serious advice at the beginning of each class, but the majority of the students thought that everything he said and did was funny (his delivery, his expressions, his innocence, his Chinese accent, his gesturing, his goofy smile, and his surprise when everyone laughed).   He really was genuinely funny, and the students loved him.  Professor Chung also knew his chemistry, he was a good instructor, and the unintended comedy made the chemistry work seem much easier and fun.

One day early in the semester, Professor Chung explained two of his theories that pretty effectively summed up the entire human experience since the beginning of time.  These were known as "Chung's Laws".

Chung's First Law:
  • The world is full of idiots.
Chung's Second Law:
  • The world is run by idiots.
The class roared with laughter, but everyone agreed that "Chung's Laws" were brilliant.

Later that night at dinner, I explained "Chung's Laws" to Father, Mother, and Jasmine.  Father laughed harder than I'd ever seen him laugh before, and exclaimed "Aslam is getting a fine education!"

As the years rolled past, I'd often looked back fondly on my memories of Professor Chung, how much the class loved him, how much joy he brought to the students... and how true his two "laws" really were.  "Chung's Laws" seemed to be proven on a daily basis ever since I first heard them.

Chapter 31:  Physics Lab & Pondering "The Coefficient of Friction"

During the first semester university physics class (force and motion), the class studied friction and did practical experiments in the laboratory to determine and measure the coefficient of friction.

We used inclined planes and blocks made from different materials (glass, wood, steel, iron, concrete, ceramic, plastic) to measure the steepness angle wherein the threshold of static friction was transitioned into kinetic friction.

The term "friction" fascinated me, because in the lab one day I suddenly realized that the reason Jasmine's pussy felt so good during wet humping and making love was due to friction... even though the lips and the inside of her pussy were wet and lubricated and slippery.

The interior of Jasmine's pussy was certainly soft and wet, but it definitely had a specific texture on the inside walls.  It felt like a soft warm ripe peach in there (obviously, without the pit).  The texture inside her pussy was subtle, but when my stiff prick undulated inside her... the very tip (which looked like a spear, or as though it was wearing a red hat) was easily excited to the point of orgasm.
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Once I ejaculated my semen into Jasmine's pussy, the friction inside her pussy immediately dropped to zero.  It felt as though the inside of Jasmine's pussy had been transformed from a warm peach into a frictionless pussy filled with warm slippery liquid banana slime... because male semen is as slippery as a liquid banana.
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I believe that God designed the female pussy with that friction transformation from peach into liquid banana to keep the sensitive pricks of males from getting over-stimulated.  Too much pleasure can actually be painful.
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Chapter 32:  Physics Class & Cheryl
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In the physics lecture class, I sat next to a pretty blonde American girl with blue eyes.  Her name was Cheryl, and she was very friendly to me.  After a few weeks, she suggested that we study together... since the class was difficult and confusing.
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Cheryl was majoring in nursing.  Did I tell Cheryl about my theory regarding the coefficient of friction inside my sister's pussy?  No, I did not.
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Although Cheryl was the complete the opposite of any female that I would have pictured myself marrying (i.e., she wasn't Arabic)... I was still enthralled by her happy personality, her sweet smile, her pretty face, her perfect skin, the dimples on her cheeks, her blond hair, her petite body, and those two piercing blue eyes that seemed to burn with a blue flame.

If I thought that the first semester university physics class (force and motion) was difficult... second semester physics (electricity and magnetism) was twice as hard.  Cheryl and I had purposely scheduled ourselves for same class, and continued with our study sessions.

We'd tease each other about our accents... both claiming "I love your accent!".  Then we'd both say "But I don't have an accent... you do!!!"

The way Cheryl would wrinkle her little nose at me, and the way she smiled, was so cute!!!

The physics material was very confusing to my dimwitted mind, and I often had to copy Cheryl's homework assignments after she tried explaining the concepts and procedures... without much success.  I literally had no idea what I was doing, but somehow managed to pass the tests to my utter surprise.

Tests were always returned at the end of the following class session.  On the third test, I got a B... and Cheryl got a D.  Bursting out crying, she packed up her stuff and fled out of the classroom.

I raced after Cheryl, apologized for copying her homework, and then apologized for me somehow doing better on the test than she did.  We hugged as she sobbed, and she apologized for being emotional and dramatic.  Cheryl said she didn't blame me for anything, so we agreed to continue with our study sessions... including me copying her homework.  To thank Cheryl, I asked her out to dinner and she said "SURE!!!"
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Chapter 33:  Kissing & "The Breath of Life"
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Cheryl and I had a wonderful evening meal at the Old Spaghetti Factory.  After walking around to gaze at the displays in store windows and talk, I drove Cheryl back to her apartment and walked her to the door.
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Kissing Cheryl's forehead outside her door, I suddenly started feeling the same butterflies in my belly for Cheryl that I had always felt only for Jasmine.  Cheryl immediately moved her mouth up to meet my mouth, and we kissed on the lips for a moment.  She invited into the apartment that she shared with a female roommate.

We spent an hour sitting on her couch... hugging, kissing, and whispering.

But there was definitely some "wrong" about our kissing.  It was extremely awkward.
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At first, I could not figure out the problem.  Did the awkwardness have anything to do with the fact that the only girl I'd ever touched or kissed was my sister Jasmine?  No... that didn't seem to be an issue.

Finally, it dawned on me that Cheryl was holding her breath whenever her face was anywhere near my face.  Of course, only a few short seconds would pass by, and then she'd have to turn away from me to take a few breaths.

So I explained my belief to Cheryl that lovers feeling the warmth of their breath on each other's cheeks, in each other's ears, on each other's lips, and in each other's mouths... is a wonderfully intimate and bonding experience.

"God breathed life into all of us, Cheryl!" was my statement that made her eyes widen with wonderment.

But Cheryl at first didn't seem to believe me.  Not at all.  She didn't even want to try breathing anywhere near my face... much less on my lips or into my mouth.

"Well, you always seem to enjoy feeling my breath when I'd whisper something into your ear... right, Cheryl?"

Her reply?  "Yes, but an ear can't smell onions and garlic and stuff like that..."

"But pulling back and turning your face away from mine after only two seconds during a wonderful romantic kiss feels like rejection, Cheryl...  please... "

My suggestion that we both use mouthwash was the turning point which broke the ice for Cheryl, and she agreed to try to breathing while kissing after we rinsed our mouths and washed our faces.

Hesitant at first, Cheryl honestly didn't believe that I would want to feel her warm breath on my face and smell her breath.  It took a little convincing, a little reassurance, a little patience, and a little demonstrating... but Cheryl was finally convinced that breathing while kissing was VERY pleasurable, intimate, romantic, and loving.  Absolutely yes... and very pleasurable!!!  Cheryl excitedly whispered that she had no clue that kissing could be such an intimate thrill.

Afterwards, Cheryl explained that she'd had a few boyfriends before.  None of the guys seemed interested in kissing.  No, instead they wanted to move right away into doing things below the neck.  Cheryl didn't want to move so fast physically, and so her relationships were very short... usually leaving her confused and heartbroken.
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Friends had advised her to "let the guys do whatever they want or you'll be alone forever..." but Cheryl wisely thought that type of reckless behavior would be a huge mistake.  Cheryl didn't want her heart to be kicked around like a soccer ball... nor did she want her body and her soul disrespected.  Pregnancy and STD's were other issues that concerned her.  Getting lied to, getting used, and finally getting unceremoniously dumped wasn't something Cheryl wanted to experience... she'd had enough friends cry buckets of tears on her shoulder to learn about those hazards.
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Chapter 34:  Hello, Arthur!!!
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I was honest, and later that night I told Jasmine about Cheryl, my feelings, and my kissing Cheryl.   Jasmine simply smiled and said "The clock is probably going to run out on our romantic love fairly soon, Aslam... I've met a guy who wants to date me.  His name is Arthur, and he's just as nice as you!!!"

The next day I asked Cheryl to be my girlfriend, and she happily accepted.

Jasmine and Arthur began dating, and soon were a couple as boyfriend and girlfriend.  Arthur was a very nice gentleman... tall and handsome, but like Cheryl, he also was not Arabic.
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For a few years, Jasmine dated Arthur while I dated Cheryl.  But for that entire time, Jasmine and I stayed "married" and we made love for a week every month according to the calendar schedule... in addition to sharing toe orgasms and wet grinding orgasms.
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Cheryl and Arthur visited our condo often.  Father and Mother loved and approved of both Cheryl and Arthur.  Wisely, our parents had told us that we were not required to find an Arabic mate.  Neither Cheryl or Arthur ever commented on the sleeping arrangements, or the fact that there were only two beds in the condo.  Perhaps they assumed I slept on the couch.

One day I asked Jasmine if Arthur had ever asked any specific questions... such as her sexual history with males, our sleeping arrangements, or anything else personal.  Jasmine simply replied "Not really.  And I do not volunteer anything.  It is not a lie to keep the truth to one's self."
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When Jasmine got engaged before graduating from the university, that's when we finally agreed that the clock had run out on our "marriage" and our romantic love... but not on our sibling love or respect for each other.
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So I moved back to sleeping on the couch in the living room.  We never made love, french kissed, or shared a toe orgasm again.

Jasmine and Arthur were married six months later, and they moved into a nice house in a new development.  The prices of land and housing in the Bay area were not insanely expensive back then.
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Chapter 35: The Job Market
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I graduated from the university with my civil engineering degree.  Looking for a job, I recalled Father's comments years before about how "All government employees are idiots... overpaid, underworked, lazy, impossible to get fired.  They're like boulders with eyeballs!!!".

Wow... that sounded like the perfect job for me.  I honestly did not understand many of the engineering classes, and was rightly concerned that I would probably get terminated if I went to work for a private engineering firm. 

So I applied for entry-level civil engineering positions in the local County government, a few small local City governments, the State of California, and the Federal government.

During an interview for one Federal government engineering job, a guy I'll call "Mr. Monotone" interviewed me for a position on his staff.  Mr. Monotone seemed to be so dimwitted... that he actually had no clue as to how dimwitted he really was.  He droned on and on for a long time... babbling about nonsense.  There was absolutely no way that I could stand working for him every day.  It didn't matter what the pay scale would be, or if the job was secure.  So I asked Mr. Monotone "How long do I have to stay in your section before I can transfer out?"  I don't recall Mr. Monotone's answer, but he didn't seem to be the slightest bit surprised by the question.

The County happened to hire me few days after my interview with Mr. Monotone.  Five days later, Mr. Monotone called and told me that I was hired if I wanted to work for him, but thankfully I was able to decline the offer.

The majority of my friends and classmates went to work at private engineering firms, where the pay was much better... which is why the local cities, the County, the State, and the Feds did not have a large amount of applicants.

My friends and classmates laughed at my job choice, but I was happy.
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I got off work every day at 4:00 PM, and never needed to stay late.  I never had to work weekends.  I never got laid off.  During the few times that I did have to put in a few extra hours, the pay was time-and-a-half.  County employees even had the option of working the "9/80" schedule (working 9 hours a day instead of 8, and getting alternate Fridays off)... which I immediately signed up for after passing probation.

Luckily I never got fired, even though I once made a serious calculation error and the County had to pay an extra $100,000 (on a $600,000 pavement resurfacing project on a rural road) in extra asphalt and aggregate foundation material due to my stupidity.  Fortunately, I had already passed probationary period.  My friends in private firms all said they would have been immediately fired for such a mistake... but my boss didn't seem to mind, and he just asked me to be more careful in the future.
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My friends would sometimes get laid off if their company didn't have enough clients to keep everyone busy... that's when they stopped laughing at my job choice.

It seemed that I had found a little piece of paradise in the working world.  I really liked having a stable County job, where I could be a little bit incompetent and not get fired... and yet still earn enough for a comfortable living.

Chapter 36:  Marriage to Cheryl
  
Cheryl and I got married a few months after I graduated and started working at the County.  Cheryl had just started working as nurse at the local Kaiser hospital.

The inside of Cheryl's pussy had exactly the same coefficient of friction as Jasmine's... in my opinion.  I didn't discover that fact until Cheryl and I got married, though.  Cheryl wanted to save her virginity for our wedding night, which was honorable and a good policy for young ladies.  She never asked if I was a virgin, and I never volunteered any details.

The coefficient of friction inside a pussy was an interesting concept, but I don't know if my theory is accurate or not.  I've only enjoyed the pleasure of having my stiff prick undulate on the inside of two fantastic pussies.  And I've only enjoyed passionately kissing two sets of fantastic lips.... and one set of toes (Cheryl flatly refused to let me do anything romantic with her feet or toes).

The major difference between Cheryl's pussy and Jasmine's pussy was their pubic hair.  Cheryl's pubic hair was dark blond and curly... unlike Jasmine's straight black pubic hair.  Both bushes were equally beautiful, though.

A few weeks after we got married, I asked Cheryl if the hair on her head was dyed blond... since her pubic hair was noticeably darker.  She just laughed and said "No, my hair isn't dyed.  Pubic hair always seems to be darker than head hair... or at least that's been my observation in the girl's shower and locker room when I was in high school."

The idea of a bunch of teenage girls running around naked in a high school shower and locker room... stripping out of their street clothes, putting on their cute little gym shorts, stripping again later (all sweaty), showering, toweling off, and finally dressing once again in their street clothes... was a sudden epiphany of erotic images that I enjoyed pondering.  I don't know why I'd never thought of those images before... since I'd been in the gym locker room with naked guys in high school for a full 3 years after we arrived in the USA when I was 16.
  
Jasmine and I have discussed our "sibling marriage" a few times over the past few years when we've had the chance to be alone for a few minutes.  Perhaps it was our youth, or perhaps it was because we were each other's first love... but we both secretly agreed that our brother & sister making love sessions, wet grinding, toe orgasms felt better and more intense than making love with our spouses.  Maybe another factor was the intensely thrilling taboo of being brother & sister while making love.

But my romantic love for Cheryl never dimmed, either.  I felt butterflies for her in my belly for years; and the butterflies are still around... even to this day.
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Cheryl and I were never able to become wealthy the way Father was wealthy in our old country... but we didn't really try to become wealthy, either.  My family did just fine as middle class citizens enjoying life in the USA.
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Chapter 37:  God, The Bible, and Sibling Romance

It was a few years after we got married that Cheryl and I both became Christians... before we had children.  The turning point was a little Christian tract entitled "This Was Your Life" that one of Cheryl's cousins had given her, and I was shown the tract also.  Cheryl's cousin wasn't a hypocrite... or at least she was not a big hypocrite, so we all enjoyed having lively discussions.

Cheryl and I both loved that little tract, and the simple message summing up the entire Bible made sense.  It was very easy to understand.

For the benefit of anyone who might be interested in reading the tract,
I have posted images at the conclusion of this autobiography.

A few weeks after becoming a Christian, I had a vivid dream one night.  Jesus Christ was in front of me, hanging on the cross... bleeding.  He was silent.  I was on my knees on the ground crying and looking up at Him.  Slowly, Christ's head started becoming luminescent... until the light emanating from Him was so brilliant that I was unable to gaze upon Him, and I had to roll forward on to my elbows with my face down.  But my eyes were still open.  The brilliance from Christ was so incredibly intense... that the beams of light were actually passing through the rocks littering the ground below the cross.  It was the most intense dream that I'd ever experienced.

Yet, although I had become a Christian and believed that Christ died for the sins of the world... I still loved Jasmine romantically.  The memories of the passionate love that Jasmine and I shared were not clouded by regret or embarrassment.  I wondered if I was a terrible hypocrite.

Did I ever feel guilty for passionately and romantically loving my sister Jasmine?  No.

Did I ever ask for forgiveness from God for romantically and passionately loving my sister Jasmine?  No.

Did I ever consider my romantic and passionate love for Jasmine to be a sin?  No.

Was I bothered by this Bible verse: 
  • " ... do not have sexual relations with your sister... " Leviticus 18:9 ?  
No, because there are other Bible verses which are so insane that nobody can possibly follow them... like this one: 
  • "... a woman who isn't a virgin on her wedding day shall be stoned to death..." Deuteronomy 22:20-21
Did my romantic and passionate feelings for my sister Jasmine prevent me from becoming a Christian, prevent me from attending church, prevent me from praying to God, prevent me from being thankful to God, prevent me from assisting Cheryl in teaching Sunday School when she needed help, prevent me from tithing, prevent me from helping Cheryl teach Vacation Bible School every summer, or prevent me from being an usher at church?  No.

Did my romantic and passionate feelings for my sister Jasmine prevent me from becoming a Deacon in church?  No, I was asked to apply for the position of becoming a Deacon.  I turned down the offer because I would not have enjoyed standing in the pulpit in front of the congregation to pray for the offering or to do a scripture reading (stage fright).  And I have never been able to stand around making interesting small-talk with people.  A Deacon needs to be a people person.  Plus, I was simply far too lazy to accept the solemn responsibility of being a Deacon, and the effort it would have required.

The most "sorrow" or "repentance" that I could ever pray to God about Jasmine was to ask for His forgiveness in case it was a terrible sin that I was NOT sorry for romantically and passionately loving my sister Jasmine.  But I did thank God often for Jasmine, and for the honest passionate love that Jasmine and I both shared together for so many years.  Of course, I also thanked God for Cheryl.
Chapter 38:  Living "The American Dream"
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When Jasmine and Arthur got married, they wanted to start having kids right away.  By the time Jasmine was 30, she was already a busy mother of 3 healthy and happy children.

Because housing prices were reasonable in the Bay Area at that time and because Arthur had gotten a high paying job doing something in financing and banking... Jasmine was able to stay at home as a full-time mommy and housewife.  She loved it.

On the contrary, Cheryl and I did not begin having children until we were well into our thirties.  It was our choice.  I asked Cheryl to please not go on birth control pills, because I didn't really care for the idea of those pills wreaking havoc on her body and her hormones in ways not intended by God.

So... Cheryl and I discussed our options and we decided to do the same thing that Jasmine had done to avoid pregnancy (of course, Jasmine's name was not mentioned).  Cheryl kept careful records of her female cycles on a calendar, and we had one week per month when we could engage in sexual intercourse.  I told Cheryl there was no way that I would ever use a condom; to which she replied "Great!!!"  That's because Cheryl told me that she really enjoyed feeling the warmth of my prick erupting deeply inside her body.  

Cheryl informed me that our system of pregnancy prevention by using a calendar was called "The Rhythm Method", and that it was notoriously unreliable.  Clueless, I asked Cheryl if the rhythm referred to the speed of my prick undulating inside her.  Laughing, Cheryl explained that the term "rhythm" referred to the cycle of her female bio-rhythms... not the speed of our bodies rutting against each other. 

We enjoyed wet humping each other during the three weeks of each month that I should not ejaculate inside Cheryl's pussy.  The wet humping was just as satisfying as intercourse for both of us.  Cheryl also loved the french kissing and the feeling of my warm breath on her face.

When Cheryl and I finally decided to start a family, we had our daughters five years apart.  It was wonderful.  Melanie grew up to be a caring and loving older sister to little Kassidy.

Cheryl had kept about a dozen of her favorite childhood story books, and we read those books to our daughters every evening... beginning first with Melanie, and then later with both after Kassidy was born.  

The books included classics such as Sam and the Firefly, One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish, Green Eggs and Ham, The Little Engine That Could, Curious George, Curious George Takes a Job, The Cat in the Hat, The Cat in the Hat Comes Back, The Little House, and Mike Mulligan and his Steam Shovel.
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Those were great times of bonding, and the girls loved each book... especially Mike Mulligan and his Steam Shovel.  That book was our favorite, because it had wonderful drawings of many grand civil engineering projects that I could explain to Melanie and Kassidy... such as railroads, airports, interstate freeways, highway construction, canals, and structural excavations for buildings.  In addition, the book touched on somber issues such as being left behind in the workforce by the progression from manual labor to mechanized labor; the "out-with-the-old-and-in-with-the-new" syndrome, abandonment, government bureaucrats, and the importance of not simply giving up.  But in the end... love conquers all.

I assembled a model steam shovel and painted it in the same red & black color scheme as "Mary Ann" (the steam shovel).



Since I didn't earn quite enough money at my County engineering job to support our family, Cheryl did need to continue working as a nurse.  Fortunately, though... due to the fact that hospitals are 24 hour operations, Cheryl was able to work part-time perhaps 2 or 3 shifts per week when I would be home to watch our daughters (evenings and weekends).  Therefore, Melanie and Kassidy never needed to go into daycare.

Father and Mother enjoyed both sets of grandchildren immensely.  When either couple (Jasmine & Arthur, or Cheryl & me) wanted to take a little romantic vacation, Father and Mother would watch the grandchildren at the condo.

The fact that Jasmine's & Arthur's kids were older than ours helped to spread out the joy over many years for Father and Mother as loving grandparents.

Wisely, Arthur insisted that a keyed lock be installed high on the frame of the sliding glass door to the balcony at Father and Mother's condo.  The idea of any of the kids accessing the condo balcony unsupervised and accidentally falling 10 stories was too horrific to even imagine, so everyone thanked Arthur and gave him a high-five for his safety awareness and his wisdom.

Both Jasmine and Arthur have spent many wonderful years living "The American Dream"... as Cheryl and I have also.  Father and Mother did, too.  America is definitely the best place to live on this planet, in my opinion.  I believe that America is the best to live that has ever been invented since the creation of Earth.
Chapter 39:  The Brilliance of Jurassic Park 
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Cheryl and I saw the film Jurassic Park together when it was released in theaters in 1993.  It was an amazingly excellent movie, with a fine story line, and the special effects were second-to-none (but the special effects were not excessive).  It was later released on DVD in 2000.
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The careful explanations of the science behind the development of extinct creatures was actually very believable... as was the plot, the sets, the equipment, the actors, and the computer-animated dinosaurs.  

That evening when Cheryl and I returned from the movie theater, I called Father and soberly informed him that he and Mother should never see the movie... because it was so intense and so realistic that it might give him a heart attack.

A few days later, Mother called to report that she and Father had gone to see the Jurassic Park movie in the theater the previous evening after closing the jewelry store.  Of course, Father had survived the experience.

Mother's report made both Cheryl and me laugh very hard.  "Father was incensed that you thought he wouldn't be able to handle watching a movie, Aslam.  But if you were secretly trying to get him to go see the film because you liked it, then your little plan worked brilliantly!!!  And Father did greatly enjoy the movie... as did I."

There was one particular scene in the movie which struck me deeply.  It was the scene in the Genetics Lab where the character Ian Malcolm was expressing his concerns about the dangers of pretty much everything that he saw while inspecting the project.
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Malcolm's short monologue was utterly fascinating to me.  Why?  Because in reality, the attempts made by the Middle Eastern bastards who were in charge of our home country could NOT control things the way that they thought they could.

Jasmine and I had "crashed though barriers" that all of those arrogant Middle Eastern bastards had attempted to erect everywhere.

I felt like standing up in the movie theater and shouting "Right on, Malcolm!!! Right on!!!" when I first heard that monologue.  Did I actually stand up and shout in the theater?  No.

But when Jurassic Park was released on DVD, I bought it and watched that scene a dozen times.  At home alone while watching the DVD... I was free to jump up, fist pump, and shout "Right on, Malcolm!!! Right on!!!" several times.  That simple little experience made me feel wonderfully free.  It was almost a feeling of revenge against those arrogant bastards who seemed to be in charge everywhere in the Middle East.

Melanie and Kassidy both wanted to watch Jurassic Park as youngsters when they first saw the DVD case in our house.  Cheryl reminded me that I had been seriously concerned about my Father watching Jurassic Park.  Would I actually now simply allow our 2 young daughters to watch the film?

There is one single word that describes important issues that escape Cheryl's attention: "nothing".  There is literally nothing of importance that escapes Cheryl's attention.  Well... almost nothing. 

Cheryl had a good point, of course.  But the film was much less intense on our TV screen than it was on a huge theater screen.  That would help.  But in order to prevent excessive fear, Melanie and Kassidy still needed to be given an honest lesson in fantasy vs. reality that they could see and understand.

So... we first took some little dolls and plastic dinosaurs into our backyard.  It was enjoyable to set up little scenes and to take dozens detailed ground-level photos with a digital camera of the dolls and the dinosaurs.  Cheryl made us a nice lunch as I plugged the digital camera's output into our TV.  We all sat down to eat lunch and looked at all of the digital pictures that we had just created on "the big screen" (our TV set).  The dolls and dinosaurs really did look pretty neat... and they looked pretty big, too.

Did seeing the pictures of their little toys looking like big characters on our TV seem help Melanie and Kassidy when we watched Jurassic Park later that day?  I suppose so... although they hugged Cheryl and me several times during the scary scenes.  But they never were afraid after the film ended, never were afraid of going to sleep, never were afraid of going into our dark backyard, and never had any nightmares about dinosaurs.
Chapter 40:  Childhood Never Ends 
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The ancient memories of me playing with cars in the courtyard of our mansion with Jasmine in the Middle East never left my mind.

When our daughters Melanie and Kassidy were young, I began buying scale model construction vehicles (1/50) and airplanes (1/400 and 1/144).

Melanie, Kassidy, and me would play with the construction vehicles in the backyard, and we used a large assortment of wooden blocks to build things.  It was a lot of fun.

As Melanie and Kassidy grew older and were taking math in school, I decided to use the 1/400 airplanes to teach them about math... so I built a miniature airport.

The box that contained each plane had a description about how many passengers it could carry, and how far it could fly.  I bought a world globe, and made a ruler at work (scaled the same as the world globe; 1" = 660 miles).

The girls loved playing with the airport, and they enjoyed figuring out routes to different places on the planet based on the range of the plane they were using.  Melanie and Kassidy didn't realize that they were learning math and asset management skills.  The 1/400 airplanes were surprisingly rugged... even their landing gear was metal.  One of Melanie's friends accidentally dropped a plane from 12" high, and there was no damage.

The landing gear assemblies on the heavier 1/144 airplanes were plastic and simply too fragile to be used as toys, and so those airplanes were used for display only.

Chapter 41:  The Brass Titanic

On the subject of scale models... here's a little side-story.

In the early 1980's, many years before the 1997 James Cameron film Titanic reignited interest in that nautical disaster... Father decided that he wanted a large detailed scale model replica of the Titanic to place in the window of his jewelry store.  Although Father's store was doing very well, he wanted something different to put in the display window to attract attention.  Something creative.  Something amazing.  Something dazzling.

One of Father's best friends was a gentleman from India, and the man knew dozens of expert craftsmen and artisans in India who could make anything out of brass.  Anything.  If an item could be imagined, then the craftsmen in India could make a brass model of that item.

So Father ordered a detailed scale model replica of the ill-fated Titanic luxury liner to be made entirely from brass... sized at approximately three feet in length.  

Five months later, the model replica arrived.  It was in a big wooden crate... the type of crate with lots of important shipping labels and official stamps that looked as though it would have been featured in one of the classic Raiders of the Lost Ark or Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade films.  Father used a little crowbar borrowed from the building superintendent to carefully open the crate with all of us crowded around the kitchen table in the condo.

The shipping crate alone was a work of art.  Just getting the Titanic replica out of the crate took an hour, because it was packed so intricately to prevent damage during shipping.  The crate had dozens of little wooden dowels covered in velvet which were cut to specific lengths to hold the replica in place, and each dowel had to be removed with a jeweler's screwdriver.  The crate had to be completely dismantled, and afterwards we just threw it all away.  There was no way anyone could ever have repacked the Titanic replica back into that crate.

The Titanic replica was flawless, and it must have weighed at least 15 pounds.  The detail was beyond description.


Here is a photograph taken by me of the Titanic replica:




Father refused to tell us how much he paid for the replica of that ill-fated vessel.  Later, he stated that he wasn't completely happy with the model replica.  Why?  Because Father had neglected to specify a very critical detail when he placed the custom order with his friend from India.  It was a handshake deal; nothing was written down.

What was the issue?  Well, it seems that Father had envisioned his Titanic replica to be polished and clear-coat lacquered brass... not the finely-painted replica that had arrived at our condo.

Father felt that a polished and lacquered brass replica would be a complimentary display item adjacent to the gold and silver jewelry in the big front window of his store, but he thought that an accurately painted replica would be a huge distraction.

Perhaps if the original order for Father's Titanic replica had been in writing... then he would have recognized the potential for a misunderstanding.  But that isn't how Father or his friend did business.  Normally, a handshake business deal is fine among gentlemen... but Father suddenly had a little glimpse into why there seemed to be so many lawyers in the USA.

Father shrugged and announced that he would simply sell the Titanic replica, but Mother was enthralled with it... so Father gave her the replica.  The brass Titanic has been on display in the family condo ever since.

Years later... when the James Cameron film Titanic was playing in theaters in 1997, Cheryl and Mother took our little daughter Melanie to see it.  Melanie was captivated by the love story, and after that she frequently wanted to visit Father and Mother's condo so she could look at the Titanic replica.

As soon as Titanic was released on DVD (wide-screen version in 1999), Melanie insisted that we buy the movie so she could watch it again.  Melanie was also anxious for her little sister Kassidy to experience the Titanic movie... although Kassidy was still a youngster not far removed from the toddler stage, and she couldn't follow the story.  Instead, Kassidy preferred non-verbal stories on TV such as Teletubbies on PBS (those Teletubbies were bizarre and honestly baffled me, BTW).

Initially, as pre-teens... neither Melanie nor Kassidy could appreciate the "Old Rose" character in the Titanic movie.  But after puberty, all that changed... first for Melanie, and then later for Kassidy.  The scenes involving Old Rose brought tears to their eyes, and they stopped trying to skip past the scenes containing Old Rose while watching the DVD.
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At the condo, Melanie and Kassidy would watch Titanic perhaps once a month while we were visiting Father and Mother on weekends.  Before starting the movie, Melanie always asked Father or me to carefully carry the Titanic replica to the coffee table in the living room so she and Kassidy could sit and look at the replica while watching the movie.  They enjoyed discussing the different movie scenes while pointing out where each scene was occurring on the replica.
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The bow scenes, the stern scenes, the Captain's scene where he's standing outside the bridge with his teacup, the crow's nest scene, the lifeboats, Jack looking out the porthole... everything.  Having the replica in front of them to look at really seemed to bring the movie to life for Melanie and Kassidy.
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Both Melanie and Kassidy have told Father many times that they think the brass Titanic replica is absolutely perfect... painted exactly like the ship in the movie.

Actually, everyone has told Father how much they like the painted Titanic replica.  Father finally decided that sometimes... a mistake isn't really a mistake after all.

Chapter 42:  A Terminal Diagnosis

In the summer of 2000, Father was diagnosed with congestive heart failure and renal (kidney) issues.  The doctors estimated that he had perhaps 2 years to live.  Both Father and Mother were in their late 70's at the time.

Cheryl and Mother got together, and carefully discussed the situation and the doctor's recommendations.  Cheryl told Mother that if the diet instructions were strictly followed (low fat, smaller portions, low salt)... then Father would likely live longer in a happier, healthier, and more physically active state.

Mother followed the diet instructions like a drill sergeant.  There were no exceptions to her rules.  And Father ate Mother's cooking without complaining... although he did miss using salt and eating robust cuts of meat (especially the porterhouse and T-bone steaks slathered in A-1 Sauce).

The diet restrictions seemed to significantly help Father's condition, as did the daily one mile walks that he and Mother began sharing together.  Father lived far beyond the doctor's original estimate.

Since eating was in fact one of Father's greatest pleasures in life (although he was wise and did not become fat), Mother did allow him a lean steak with a moderate serving of A-1 Sauce every Sunday for dinner.
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Chapter 43:  "No Heroics" is Not a Plan
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Father insisted to us many times that he did not want to be kept alive, or be tied to machines.  He did not want to go on dialysis, either.  And he told us "No heroics... when the time comes, please just let me die in peace..."
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That was fine, and everyone agreed to honor Father's wishes... although nothing was in writing.  We also didn't discuss any specifics... such as if Father collapsed without a pulse, would we call 911 and initiate CPR?

Jasmine was visiting our parent's condo on a Saturday morning in the fall of 2005.  Father and Mother had both been doing very well up until that time... with Father already 3 years past the doctor's estimate for his life expectancy.

After breakfast, Father was weak and tried walking into the master bedroom, but he started to crumple and slowly fall.  Jasmine jumped up, and caught Father before he hit the floor.  Mother and Jasmine somehow managed to get Father into the master bed.

Jasmine was going to call me, but she knew that I would simply say "It's time... just follow Father's wishes and let him die peacefully."

However, faced with an overwhelming scene and feeling completely helpless, Jasmine knew that she needed professional advice immediately... not blind emotional advice or platitudes from LaLa Land.  So she dialed 911.

Perhaps 10 minutes later, 2 paramedics and 3 firemen from the local fire brigade arrived at the condo with a stretcher and a large array of medical equipment.

Father insisted to the paramedics that nothing needed to be done.  He did not want them to be called.  He did not want any of his vital signs taken.  He did not want to be transported to the hospital.  He did not want to be stuck with needles.  Finally, Father once again repeated his request that "No heroics" be performed.

The senior paramedic at the scene was named Cliff, and he'd probably seen dozens of similar situations like this one before.  Cliff sat on the bed next to Father, and calmly discussed the options.

Yes... Father could certainly sign the standard form "No Treatment / Patient Declines Assistance" and the emergency crew would depart.  That is Father's choice and his right, Cliff explained.

Father asked for a pen to sign the form on the clipboard that Cliff was showing him.

But Cliff wisely asked several blunt and probing questions:
 - Has the family been working with Hospice staff to prepare for Father's death?
 - Does the family have the instructions, training, and equipment needed to care for a dying patient (an adjustable hospital bed, a portable toilet, hospital gowns, disposable bed pads, urine bottles, bed pans, a wheeled walker, sanitary wipes, support handles installed on the bathroom toilet, expert nursing care to minimize pain, a 24-hour Hospice number to call, and enough people volunteering to physically assist around the clock)?
 - Has a legally acceptable DNR form (Do Not Resuscitate) been signed by both Father and his doctor?
 - Does Father have a legally acceptable "Advance Medical Directive" to assure that his wishes will be honored in the event that he becomes incapacitated and unable to communicate... but is still alive?
 - Does anyone really know how long Father will live and what's wrong with him now?
 - Is Father willing to put Jasmine, Mother, and himself at risk of serious injury (i.e., untrained people trying to help a weak and disabled man to the restroom with no training and no equipment)?
 - Has Father been in contact with the Neptune Society... so that all of the final arrangements and funeral issues would be effectively and economically resolved before his death? 

The silence in the room was deafening, and that's when Mother and Jasmine both began sobbing.  Obviously, no preparations had been done.  Nothing.  Zero.  Zip.  Nada.
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No advance planning had been made.  No equipment had been obtained; much less installed.  No support from family had been discussed; much less arranged.  No supplies were purchased.  Nobody had initiated contact with staff at Hospice or the Neptune Society.

Father asked if arrangements with Hospice and the Neptune Society could be done at the hospital.  Cliff assured him yes... all of the resources would be available.  If Father wanted "no heroics"... then his wishes would be honored by the hospital medical staff.

Father thanked Cliff, and agreed to let himself be transported by the paramedics to the hospital.
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Chapter 44:  A Four Year Reprieve 

At the hospital, Father was admitted and evaluated.  He gave permission to be stuck with IV lines, to be fitted with a heart monitor, and to have his medical condition assessed.  The doctors determined that Father had a severely bleeding stomach ulcer, and that's why he was so weak.

After being told the ulcer could be relatively easily repaired (by putting a small surgical tube with a camera and remote control equipment down his throat)... and being reassured that his heart wasn't teetering on the brink of failure... Father agreed to have the stomach ulcer sealed.

When I arrived at the hospital in the early afternoon and entered Father's room, he was asleep.  But I thought that he was already dead, because he looked so pale and weak.  Yet, to my amazement... everyone said that he'd be just fine.

While Father was recovering in the hospital for 2 days, a social worker helped us to make contact with Hospice staff and the Neptune society... for the next time something happened to Father.  We signed a bunch of papers and were given lots of pamphlets and information... including a DNR form to post on the refrigerator in Father & Mother's condo.
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As I sat with Father in the evening of the first day after his ulcer treatment, he was a little confused from the weakness and medications.  He'd ask "Why are all of these strange people here in our condo?"  We'd simply tell Father that they were invited guests.
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Later while sitting up eating dinner on a tray over his hospital bed, Father saw a few people walking down the hallway outside his room.  He yelled out "Bye, folks!!! Thanks for visiting!!!"  I thought that Father's innocent comment was so adorable... in his confused state, Father was friendly and happy.  He wasn't mean, paranoid, rude, violent, or angry... unlike some of the other patients that I'd heard about in many of the stories that Cheryl had relayed to me over the years she spent as a nurse.
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The doctors were correct.  Father recovered, regained his strength, and he survived another four years after having the stomach ulcer sealed.
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Chapter 45:  "EMERGENCY!"

When Father returned back home to the condo after being discharged from the hospital, he was glad to be alive.  Father spoke to everyone who asked about his condition and declared his admiration for the paramedics, the firemen, the doctors, and the nurses who work to save lives every day.
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Cheryl and I happened to be shopping at Target shortly afterwards, and I spotted a DVD boxed set entitled EMERGENCY!.  It was the first season of a television show about paramedics, firemen, doctors, and nurses in Southern California.  It had just been released on DVD in 2005... even though the show was first broadcast in 1972.
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Thinking that Father might find the show interesting, I purchased the DVD set.  Just as I had assumed, Father was captivated by the show... but he always wanted me to watch it with him.  So, we watched one episode every weekend when I would stop by the condo to visit.
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Both of us enjoyed watching the exciting activities of paramedics Johnny Gage and Roy DeSoto as they responded to emergencies in Squad 51... and the rest of the crew at Station 51 who manned a big pumper called Engine 51.


In case anyone is interested, here are a few EMERGENCY! images:

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Father's favorite character on EMERGENCY! was Dr. Brackett... because Dr. Brackett had dark hair, a deep voice, handsome features, and a commanding presence.
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"Dr. Brackett obviously has a nice healthy dose of Arabic blood coursing through his veins" was a statement that Father enjoyed making at the end of every episode.
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My favorite character on the show was nurse Dixie McCall.  She was a cute blonde, and I always pretended that she was my beautiful wife Cheryl.  Watching the show gave me an appreciation for Cheryl's hard work and the difficult situations and issues that she had to deal with during her shifts.
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Although the show EMERGENCY! had first aired in 1972 (more than 30 years previously when Father and I began watching the DVD's), it was in color and still looked modern.  The  stories presented were not outdated.  Father was fascinated by the pilot episode, which was a dramatization of how the paramedic program first started.
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Later, I did a little internet research on EMERGENCY! to learn some trivia about the show... which I used to stump Father with questions.  One trivia fact was that the show spent about half of the time following Johnny and Roy around in Squad 51, while the other half dealt with hospital and patient issues.  The reason for the split was to control production costs.  It was very expensive to film fake emergencies at various outdoor locations... while the hospital set never needed to be changed, and was thus much more economical.
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Every year, I'd purchased a new DVD set for the next season as they were released for Father and me to watch. 

Chapter 46:  Hollywood Models
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During my research of EMERGENCY! trivia on the internet, I happened to stumble across the fact that detailed 1/64 scale models of the Dodge Squad 51 and both Engine 51's (Crown and Ward LaFrance) had been produced.  The models were fully assembled, and ready to display.
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Of course, I had to get a set of EMERGENCY! models to complement my collection of scale model airplanes and construction vehicles.  I found the EMERGENCY! model vehicles on eBay.
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Was I happy with the EMERGENCY! scale models?  Yes... those models actually appeared to be museum quality representations.
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The company that produced the EMERGENCY! scale models also produced a set of detailed 1/64 scale models of Engine 17 and Ladder 46 from the 1991 movie Backdraft.  I could not resist buying those models, too.
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Those purchases lead me to obtain a few other 1/64 scale model Hollywood-inspired vehicles:

 - The Town of Mayberry Sheriff's patrol car from the 1960's television program The Andy Griffith Show.
 - Doc Brown's DeLorean time machine vehicle from the 1985 movie Back to the Future.
 - Herman's car from the early 1960's television show The Munsters.

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Chapter 47:  A Minor Obession
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Once the 1/64 detailed scale models for EMERGENCY!, Backdraft, The Andy Griffith Show, Back to the Future, and The Munsters were purchased... I decided that I wanted to obtain additional interesting scale models of vehicles.
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The different types of rescue vehicles shown on EMERGENCY! and Backdraft fascinated me.
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I enjoyed studying the different variations of rescue vehicles.  I imagined how exciting it would be to have a job where one minute you're relaxing in an armchair with a bunch of other firemen... and then the next minute you're riding on a speeding vehicle with sirens & red lights to a critical situation where someone's life might depend on your training, skill, and bravery.
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A fireman's job would be much different than mine. What did my County government job entail?  Mostly sitting behind desk... pushing a pencil (when I started), doing work on a computer (now), and every few days doing a field investigation (talking to constituents, taking photos, observing problems, taking measurements).
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Did I ever believe that I could have done a job like that of a fireman?  No way.  Why not?  Because sometimes I'd fall asleep on the couch in the evening, and nothing Cheryl said or did could wake me up.  At perhaps 2 or 3 AM, I might awaken and drag myself upstairs and get into bed.  There is NO WAY that I could have put on a breathing tank, climbed a ladder, walked around on a roof, swung an ax, carried an unconscious person, or dragged a heavy hose line into a fire in the middle of the night... when it took all my strength to simply move myself from the couch into a bed.
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Cheryl noticed my interest from my eBay purchases of scale models and Father & I watching EMERGENCY! on DVD... so on the day before my birthday in 2006, she took me to a furniture store and generously bought me a big curio cabinet with glass doors and sides.  "Buy whatever toys you want, Aslam... and put them on display so we can all enjoy them.  But once the curio cabinet has been filled, then you must stop buying toys."
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When I pointed out that I wanted to buy detailed scale models... NOT TOYS... Cheryl just laughed and kissed me.  Of course, I had to laugh also.



On the remote chance that even ONE reader might be the slightest bit interested in the rescue vehicles in my collection, I have prepared an array of close-up photos for each scale model.
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Since the final photos of my models totaled over 400, I decided that they would be too excessive and too distracting for this blog.  Therefore, a separate blog for the numerous images dedicated to the fire models has been created.  It is now live and may be viewed here: https://aslam-fire-brigade.blogspot.com .



In our small hometown located in the Middle East, the fire brigade consisted of a single Unimog fire engine.  It was manned by volunteers, who were all men.  Women were forbidden from doing pretty much anything... at any job, anywhere.  Women could not even leave their homes unless they were veiled and accompanied by a male.
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The personal protective equipment for the volunteers consisted of a few pairs of leather gloves.  There were no breathing tanks, no masks, no boots, no helmets, no coats, and no pants.  Crowds of male volunteers would show up to the emergency wearing sandals, shorts, and t-shirts.
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Compared to the modern fire departments in the Western world (such as the USA where I currently live), the memories of our hometown fire brigade seem quaint and almost comical.
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Fortunately, fires in our hometown were relatively rare.  The Unimog seemed to make appearances more often in parades than it did at emergencies.
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Vehicle fires were the most common emergency... occurring perhaps once every few months.
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Buildings were a maximum of two stories.  Construction materials were noncombustible such as brick, stone, mud, or concrete blocks... meaning any fires that occurred were limited to one room and did not spread or consume the entire structure.  Building fires consisted mostly of smoke, and occurred perhaps once or twice a year.  The cause was usually determined to have been the result of careless cigaret smoking or the ignition of cooking oil.

Our town didn't have an ambulance or a hospital.  If someone needed urgent medical care, an old pick up truck was usually volunteered by a citizen and used to race the person to the closest hospital (which was located in a large city about 30 minutes away).
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BTW, I enjoyed reading this account of the emotional rollercoaster that was experienced by a female college student who was assigned in her psychology class to accompany medical, police, and fire staff:  https://brandy-morrison-10085.blogspot.com/
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Chapter 48:  The Glorious Angel 
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No one lives forever.  We all knew that Father's time was limited.  I had tried showing him the Bible tract "This Was Your Life" several times, and offered to read the Bible to him.  Father responded the same way as he did many years ago when I was a child... waving me off as though I was an annoying little gnat buzzing around his head.
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That was fine; I didn't take Father's reaction to my offers personally.
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In the spring of 2009, the evidence of new life budding forth was everywhere outside... on the trees, flowers, grasses, and bushes.  Birds were singing.  Even the blue sky looked new and clean.  But exactly like Father's "Balance Theory"... there cannot be new life without death.  It was now Father's turn to die.
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Mother had called 911 to summon the local fire brigade in the middle of the night when Father dropped to his knees and finally laid on the floor after using the bathroom... because he was unable to get up due to extreme fatigue.  The paramedics and firemen responded to the condo, and transported Father to the hospital one final time.  Paramedic Cliff and his crew were not the staff who responded to Mother's 911 call, but it didn't matter.  The paramedics and firemen were dedicated, loyal, polite, patient, and caring.  One fireman walked over and hugged Mother as she was sobbing and watching Father being carefully bundled, tucked in, and securely belted on the stretcher.  "Angels from God" is how Mother later fondly referred to the paramedics and firemen. 

The doctors at the hospital evaluated Father, and determined that his heart was indeed failing severely.  There was nothing more to be done.  Diet and medications would be of no help.  Father's heart was simply worn out.
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That morning, we were all at the hospital and agreed that Father would never be left alone.  There would always be someone from the family with him.  Hospice staff was notified, and they swung into action.  A Hospice representative arrived with a notebook detailing end-of-life issues, and counseled all of us on what to expect and how to behave.  We met the Hospice nurse.  I departed with Mother to the condo to meet with the Hospice delivery staff and coordinate the placement of the adjustable hospital bed and sign for the supplies that Father would require.  Jasmine stayed with Father at the hospital.
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By late afternoon... Hospice staff had delivered and assembled the bed, delivered the supplies, and left a notebook with detailed instructions and guidelines for the family to keep.  I drove Mother back to the hospital in the evening so Jasmine could go home to her family.
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At the hospital before departing, Jasmine relayed what she had witnessed that afternoon while staying with Father.
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Although he was weak, Father was awake and coherent.  There was no confusion.  The sun was streaming in the window, and Jasmine noticed that Father was looking upwards at the ceiling, moving his eyes as though following something above.  Quietly, Father asked "Do you hear that, Jasmine?  The music... she's singing to me!"
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Jasmine looked up at the ceiling, and saw nothing.
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Father continued.  "She's singing to me, Jasmine.  She's right up there, and she's all clothed in flowing white silk.  She's beautiful, Jasmine!"
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As Jasmine patiently watched, Father's eyes continued to slowly track back and forth across the ceiling, and he looked very happy and at peace... with a smile upon his face.
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Finally... Father stopped gazing up at the ceiling, turned to look over at Jasmine, and said "She's gone, Jasmine."
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For several minutes, Father and Jasmine talked quietly.  There wasn't any confusion.  Father was mentally alert and oriented.  He was wide awake.  He knew who he was, he knew where he was, he knew who Jasmine was, he knew what day it was, and he knew what was happening.  Both Jasmine and Father discussed what Father had just seen... and agreed that he must have been visited by an angel.
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Chapter 49:  Hospice Care
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The next morning, Father was discharged from the hospital.  He was far too weak for us to drive him home, so a non-emergency ambulance was arranged for transport.

In the driveway of the condo building was where I waited for the ambulance to bring Father home.  When it pulled up and stopped, the rear doors opened... revealing Father, waiting on the stretcher with the back raised up.  He was comfortably seated and could see everything.  It looked as though Father was relaxing in a little recliner, and there was a huge smile on his face.

"Hi, Aslam!!!"  Father tried to unbuckle the belts holding him on the stretcher.  In Father's newly-innocent mind, he assumed that he would simply be allowed to get up and walk home with his son.  Of course, Father had to be wheeled upstairs on the stretcher via the elevator.

I used the term "newly-innocent mind" in the sentence above because as elderly persons begin to advance closer towards death, they will often tend to experience "regression".  That's when they begin to think and act like a child once again.  Some elderly people will become mean, spoiled, or demanding.  Others (like Father) simply become more trusting, more innocent, and more happy.

We got Father moved into the hospital bed that had been assembled in the living room, facing the big window so the San Francisco Bay could be seen.

Mother, Cheryl, Jasmine, Arthur, and I took turns staying with Father and talking to him.  Habib's family stopped by often to visit, and they offered to help as needed.  But 5 of us were sufficient as Father's caretakers.  My boss at the County granted me permission to take all the time needed as fully paid "family sick leave".

Initially, the TV was tuned to the FOX News Channel.  Father's favorite show was The O'Reilly Factor... but everyone felt that show was simply too loud and too disruptive. 
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No offense to Bill O'Reilly, but arguing and debating isn't very comforting when a person is dying.
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So Cheryl brought over our Planet Earth DVD set instead.  Hours and hours of peaceful nature scenes, soothing narration, and calm music... ahh yes, that worked out much better.
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On one of my shifts, Mother was pretty upset at the prospect of losing Father.  They had recently celebrated their 65th wedding anniversary.  In a typically male method of cheering someone up, I pulled out a DVD that I had made of my favorite skits recorded from MTV's Jackass.  No kidding.
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The initial skit was "Fat F*ck" showing Bam Margera in a fat suit.... in a wheelchair rolling into traffic, and overturning... and then Bam in his fat suit running into the street against a red signal directly in front of a transit bus.

Next up was "Blind Driver"... which featured a blind guy with a white cane (faking blindness, of course) trying to drive off in a Chevy Corsica.
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To my pleasant surprise, the comedy plan worked.  Mother and Father were both laughing so hard they weren't even making any noise.  The tears rolling down their cheeks were from laughter, not sadness.
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One morning, Jasmine announced "Danielle is coming today to give you a sponge bath, Father."  Danielle was a very pretty Hospice aide in her mid-20's.  Father immediately took a comb out of the pocket of his hospital gown, and shakily brushed what was left of his frizzy hair.  When Father finished, we exclaimed "You look wonderful, Father!!!" even though his hair was still sticking up in all directions.  Father was beaming... and he really did look wonderful.
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That's the first time that I cried about the prospect of losing Father.
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Before that day, I'd simply accepted death as a part of life.  I was thankful that Father had been given close to 90 years of life.  Yet I sometimes wondered... was I a psychopath because I didn't wail and cry the way Mother and Jasmine did?  Arthur and Cheryl cried, too... as did our kids and Jasmine's & Arthur's kids... and Habib and his family, too.
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For some reason, witnessing Father combing his hair in anticipation of a pretty Hospice aide coming to visit... that's what opened the floodgates for my tears.  Perhaps it was the gentle sweet patience of my Father... which I suddenly realized would soon be gone forever.
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Chapter 50:  An Intimate Glimpse Into Father's Soul   
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It was late at night when I was privileged to be allowed to catch an intimate glimpse into Father's bare soul.  When a man is dying, there's not much that can be hidden.  There's nowhere to hide... unless the dying man has been an excellent liar for his entire life.
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Did Father ever complain, whine, or feel sorry for himself?  No.
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Instead... the only thing Father wanted to discuss was my solemn assurance that Mother would be taken care of.  Every night, we quietly discussed and looked at the various statements of Father's assists, his bank accounts, and his multiple investment accounts.  And then we looked at everything all over again.
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Recalling Father's angel vision in the hospital that Jasmine had told me about... I brought out a copy of my little "This Was Your Life" tract to show Father, but the printing was far too small for Father to read even with his glasses.  So early the next morning, I made a quick trip to the local drug store and purchased a set of Sharpie markers and a large pad of colorful construction paper.
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I wrote a few Bible verses from the tract on the construction paper using the Sharpie markers... one verse per page in large lettering.  Father was thus able to read the Bible verses without his glasses.
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Did Father wave me off?  No, he actually was interested.  It was adorable.  His hands were shaking a little as he held the pad, slowly read each verse out loud, and then carefully flipped the paper to see the next page and the next verse.
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The first time I had made only 4 pages... a total of 4 short Bible verses.  When Father's hands shakily flipped the paper to see the 5th page... it was blank.  Father paused, stared, and looked a bit disappointed.
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"Do you want me to write a few more Bible Verses, Father?"
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A slight smile brightened his face and his eyes.  "Yes, Aslam!"
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So I'd add 4 more Bible verses to the pad, and then give the pad to Father.  He'd spend time starting from the beginning of the pad once again, slowly read each verse, and then shakily flip each page so he could see what was next.
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I kept adding Bible verses until the pad was full.  Did I use any of the insane Old Testament verses?  Such as "... a woman who isn't a virgin on her wedding day shall be stoned to death..." Deuteronomy 22:13-21?  Of course not!!!
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Finally, I asked Father if he wanted admit that he was a sinner, if he wanted to believe that Jesus Christ died on the cross for his sins, if he wanted to believe that God raised Jesus from the dead, if he wanted to be washed by the blood of Jesus, and if he wanted to spend eternity in Heaven?  Father quietly said "Yes!"... so we prayed the sinner's prayer together.
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Chapter 51:  Father's Passing 
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All healthy living beings have a naturally strong aversion to pooping and tinkling in their own nest.  Father was no exception to that aversion.

Three days before Father passed away, he stopped eating... saying he didn't have an appetite anymore.  That might have been correct, but I believe that Father also stopped eating because he didn't want to poop in his hospital bed.  He was getting too weak to be helped up to use the portable toilet next to his hospital bed, and he would have to start using a bed pan and the disposable bed pads.
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I decided not to ask Father about my poop theory, though.  It really was none of my business.  Father deserved to have the dignity of being able to make whatever final few decisions he had left.  Father deserved to have his decisions honored... without having his reasoning constantly questioned, probed, assessed, and examined under a microscope.
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Tinkling in bed using a urine bottle was not a problem, though... and we all assured Father that there was nothing for him to be embarrassed about.  We were all happy to help.  It was much easier for everyone involved to simply assist Father tinkle into the urine bottle instead of struggling to get him up out of bed, get him seated on the portable toilet, and then get him back into bed again.
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On the afternoon when Father passed away quietly, I was asleep.  Jasmine and Mother were with him, and his breathing got slower... and the pause between breaths got progressively longer until the breaths simply stopped altogether.  There really wasn't much time between when the breaths started to slow down until they finally stopped... so Jasmine and Mother stood next to Father, and each held his hand.  They didn't want to disrupt the sanctity of the moment by calling to me, or running to wake me up... which I thought was the proper way to handle the situation.
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Chapter 52:  The Last Farewell 
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Jasmine came in to wake me about 15 minutes after Father had passed away.  Hospice staff was called so they could handle the arrangements... they would send someone over to pronounce Farther dead, and then notify the coroner.
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We all stayed with Father as he was pronounced dead, and it was another two hours until the coroner arrived.  Jasmine had gently closed Father's eyes a few moments after he stopped breathing, but we simply couldn't bring ourselves to pull the sheet over his head.  Father really did look peaceful.
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I stayed with the coroner and accompanied Father's body downstairs to the medical examiner's wagon parked in the driveway in front of the building... and told Father goodbye as the back doors were closed.
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When I had returned upstairs and walked into the condo, Jasmine asked Mother to relay her vision to me.
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Mother explained that after the coroner and I departed, she and Jasmine were sitting silently in the master bedroom.  Mother was seated on the bed, and Jasmine was in a chair.
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"Aslam, I felt something on my thigh... as though the wings of a little butterfly briefly fluttered past.  I felt it.  But there were no bugs in our room."
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"So I looked up... and over in the corner by the TV, there were wavy lines.  At first, I thought that the TV was on.  Maybe Jasmine had turned on the TV?  No, then I realized the TV wasn't on, but something was happening.  As I watched, Father's face appeared in the wavy lines!"
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"He was smiling, laughing, and winking at me... although there was no sound.  I'd never seen Father so happy before."
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"All I could do was stare.  I don't know what Jasmine was doing; I didn't look over there."
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"Soon the wavy lines slowly started to disappear, and they took Father's smiling face with them as they faded away.  I'm not kidding, Aslam!!!  I saw Father!!!"
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"Later, I realized that Father was young in the vision.  He looked like he did way back when he was 20 years old.  No wrinkles, no grey hair!!!"
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Both Jasmine and I assured Mother that we believed her.  Jasmine said that since they were married for 65 years... Father must have asked for special permission from God Himself to stop on his way to eternity to say goodbye first.  To assure Mother that everything was OK.
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Mother talked about her vision for months afterwards.  Everyone listened as though they had never heard the story before.  Both Mother and Jasmine became Christians a few weeks after Father's passing.
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Chapter 53:  Mother's Announcement
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A few months after Father's death, Mother summoned Jasmine and me to make an announcement.  She told us the reason our family emigrated to the USA was because the religiously crazed fanatic arrogant idiot Middle Eastern men in power were pressuring Father to have female circumcision performed on Jasmine (they wanted her clitoris to be surgically removed).  Jasmine and I had playfully called the clitoris her "pleasure bead" in our youth because of how happy it made her.
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Jasmine and I held each other and cried.  We never had a chance to thank Father for his bravery and his sacrifice.  Father did enjoy his wealth; but the safety and sanctity of his daughter was priceless.  When Father had to make a choice between the two... there was no question what his priority would be.
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Mother said that Father had carefully planned our "escape" for years, and that's why we all had to speak English at home in the Middle East.
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Chapter 54:  A Daughter's Confession

It wasn't until after Father's death that my feelings about the sibling romance that Jasmine and I shared was solidified... which was that the passionate love shared between Jasmine and myself was NOT a sin.

Here's the background on that issue: Our two daughters, Melanie and Kassidy, grew up in church.  Both chose to accept Christ as young teenagers.

Both Melanie and Kassidy have been wonderful daughters.  Loving, conservative, happy, rarely complained, helpful.  They loved each other and played together.  They chose good friends to hang around with.

Our eldest daughter Melanie didn't get her first boyfriend until she was a senior in high school.  That first boyfriend only lasted a few weeks.  The next two boyfriends came about a year apart, and each lasted about a month.  Melanie met the last two boyfriends at the youth group in the church of her best friend.

Cheryl and I met all of the boys... and they all seemed to be solid, polite, honorable, Christian gentlemen.  Both Cheryl and I were baffled that Melanie's relationships were so short... but nobody ever said that love is simple, predictable, or logical.

When she was a junior at the university, Melanie came home crying on a sunny afternoon because one of her best friends (a gay Christian fellow named Joshua) had finally told his Mom about his homosexual orientation.  Joshua's Mom (a faithful Catholic) had essentially disowned him.

The following year, when Melanie was a senior at the university, she finally tearfully confided to Cheryl and me that she... was a lesbian.

Melanie said that she'd known other females would be her preference since she was 5, but that she had spent years burying and denying those feelings.  I told Melanie that she was brave to have told us, and that I was proud of her strength and honesty.

The fact that Melanie is a lesbian didn't bother me at all, but Cheryl was horrified and humiliated.  Believe it or not... I was relieved, because that's when Melanie finally told me the truth about the 3 "decent Christian guys" that she had dated.

What were the characteristics of those 3 guys underneath their Christian masks?  Rude, horny, selfish, unwilling to commit but wanting every benefit (which Melanie did not give them), judgmental, bigoted, biased, arrogant... and that's just what she admitted to me.  There's probably more.

To Cheryl's great benefit, she was very nice and accommodating to Melanie's new girlfriend Rayna from day one.  I pretty much immediately fell in love with Rayna as though she was my very own little daughter.  She's only 5 feet tall, and she's literally the happiest and nicest person that I've ever met.  Rayna's father left her Mom and 2 sisters when she was about 8, and the family never saw him again.

Rayna always hugs me whenever she comes over, and I can hug her back without hesitation.  I can tell her that I love her, and I call her "Little Bo-Bo".  If I had ever done anything even remotely similar with any of Melanie's other female friends... they would have probably thought that I was a criminal, a predator, and a pervert.  But not Rayna.  It's wonderfully refreshing how Rayna is so genuine and so loving.  It's also understandable why Melanie loves Rayna (and vice-versa).
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Chapter 55:  Pondering Biblical "Commandments"
In an effort to help Melanie and the rest of our family come to terms with being a Christian and being a lesbian, I did some research on Amazon.com and bought the book "TORN" by Justin Lee.
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That book gave me absolute peace about the relationship between the Bible, God, love, and homosexuality.  In summary, the book "TORN" effectively demonstrates that it isn't a sin to be in a loving, committed, homosexual relationship.  Melanie gave a copy of the book to Joshua, who read it and was thrilled to finally not have to feel guilty anymore about being a homosexual Christian... and that wanting to share romantic love with someone special would be OK.  Joshua then gave the book to his Mom, whom Melanie said "has made amazing progress" towards reconciling with her son after reading the book.

Kassidy never had any problem whatsoever with Melanie's sexual orientation, and skimmed through a few pages of "TORN"... but said there was no reason for her to read the book.  Kassidy didn't understand what all of the fuss was about, and didn't need anything explained to her.

Cheryl wasn't interested in reading "TORN", and I didn't push the issue.  Respecting and honoring Melanie's feelings & orientation meant that I also had to respect and honor Cheryl's feelings & orientation.  I love Cheryl, Melanie, and Kassidy... even though we may not all agree on an issue that at first glance might appear to be a bull in a china shop.

But "TORN" also opened up my eyes about the romantic relationship that Jasmine and I had shared.  A relationship based on love and affection isn't a sin.  And lots of Christians tend to cherry-pick commandments from the Old Testament that they agree with, and then they flatly ignore other commandments.

Want some examples?  OK... these should get my point across:
  • "... whomever blasphemes the name of the LORD shall be put to death; the whole congregation shall stone the blasphemer... " Leviticus 24:16
  • "... if a man commits adultery with another man's wife; with the wife of his neighbor, then both the adulterer and the adulteress must be put to death... " Leviticus 20:10
  • "... you shall not allow a woman to live who practices sorcery... " Exodus 22:18
  • "... anyone who dishonors father or mother must be put to death for they are guilty of a capital offense... " Leviticus 20:9
  • "... you have six days each week for your ordinary work, but the seventh day must be a Sabbath day of complete rest; anyone who works on the Sabbath day must be put to death... " Exodus 35:2
  • "... if evidences of virginity are not found in a new bride, then she shall be brought outside to the door of her father’s house, and the men of the city shall stone her to death… " Deuteronomy 22:13-14,20-21
  • "... your male and female slaves shall come from the nations around you; from them you may buy slaves... " Leviticus 25:44
  • "... a woman should learn in quietness and full submission; do not permit a woman to teach or to have authority over a man; she must be silent... " 1 Timothy 2:11-12
  • "... if a man lies with a male as with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination; they shall be put to death... " Leviticus 20:13
  • "... if a priest's daughter defiles herself by becoming a prostitute, she also defiles her father's holiness, then she must be burned to death... " Leviticus 21:9
  • "... do not trim off the hair on your temples or trim your beards.... "  Leviticus 19:27
  • "... if you hear that in one of your cities... that certain worthless fellows are saying, ‘Let us go and serve other gods’... then you shall surely put the inhabitants of that city to death, devoting it to destruction, all who are in it and all of their animals, with the edge of the sword.... " Deuteronomy 13:12-15
But those insane verses don't mean that I cannot be a Christian.  Those insane verses don't mean God does not exist.  I can still attend church.  I can still believe that the Blood of Christ cleanses His followers from sin.  And I suppose that I must also be guilty of cherry-picking the verses that I agree with, too... or else I wouldn't believe anything in the Bible.  Am I a hypocrite?  Of course!!!  So what?!?!?  Nobody's perfect!!!!

The biggest hypocrites always seem to be those people... who claim the loudest that they are NOT hypocrites.  Or... at least that's been my observation.


Sadly, Melanie doesn't feel comfortable attending church anymore... even though she is a strong and committed Christian.  Just like the responses from church members that Justin Lee conveyed in his book, Melanie knows the reactions that she'd be subjected to if anyone at our church ever found out about her "secret".


The fact that Rayna likes to keep both sides of her head shaved (she was "out" for several years before meeting Melanie) makes Melanie feel very protective towards her against the loudmouth "Christian do-gooders" who would not hesitate to wag their fingers in Rayna's face (if Melanie and Rayna ever attended our church together).

I don't blame Melanie for no longer attending church, and I cringe whenever the sermon mentions the "abomination" of gays or homosexuality.
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Chapter 56:  The Sibling Transformation Fantasy
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Shortly after finishing the book "TORN"... it suddenly dawned on me that I did feel somewhat guilty about the mental status of my sensual relationship with my beautiful wife Cheryl.
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It wasn't that I thought the sensual relationship which Jasmine and I shared during our youth was a sin.  No, not at all.
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The problem seemed to be that the butterflies in my belly when recalling my relationship with Jasmine were still stronger than the butterflies I'd ever felt towards Cheryl.
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Another problem was that whenever Cheryl and I would kiss, cuddle, and make love... I was often fantasizing that Cheryl was in fact my teenage sister Jasmine.
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None of my fantasies ever involved a current-age Jasmine, or Jasmine and me cheating on Cheryl and Arthur.  No... my fantasies were ALWAYS of Jasmine and me enjoying ourselves as teenage lovers.
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But a fantasy about sharing intimacy with my teenage sister Jasmine just didn't seem fair to Cheryl.  Who bore me two wonderful daughters?  Who has been a fantastic mommy to our daughters?  Who has been a loving, loyal, and supportive wife?  Who has put in long hours as a nurse to help support our family?  Cheryl.
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The main problem seemed to be that the intensity of the sibling taboo butterflies that I felt while being intimate with Jasmine could never be duplicated with Cheryl.
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Why?  Because Cheryl wasn't my sister.   Cheryl would never be my sister.  Never.
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Making love to a wife is simply not a thrilling taboo.  It's all totally legal and expected... not that there's anything wrong with that.
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The fact that Cheryl didn't want me to ever play with or suck on her toes didn't help, although I wasn't surprised when she refused.  Her feelings were entirely reasonable.  I wouldn't want to be given a blow job by anyone... i.e., meaning that people are entitled to their own pleasures and their own preferences.
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That's when I began wondering if it would be possible to make the butterflies in my belly as intense for Cheryl as the ones that I'd felt for Jasmine.
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Although Cheryl wasn't my sister... my mind began wandering.  Cheryl has an older brother named Charlie (3 years older).  He was a decent fellow, and he still is a decent fellow.   Hmmm... now that was an interesting scenario to ponder.
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So Cheryl was in fact somebody's teenage sister years ago.  Cheryl was Charlie's younger teenage sister.
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I knew that Cheryl and Charlie had never been intimate.  Well, let's just say that I had to ASSUME that they had never been intimate... because who really knows our deepest secrets?!?!?!?  Very few siblings enjoy sharing sensual intimacy with each other, and even fewer would be willing to admit sharing intimacy.
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But perhaps I could fantasize about Cheryl and Charlie being together as a pair of taboo teenage sibling lovers... similar to the way Jasmine and I had been a pair of taboo teenage sibling lovers.  Perhaps in my mind, I could transform Cheryl into becoming MY taboo teenage sister lover.
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Of course!!!  That was the key.  I could fantasize that I was Charlie, say at age 17... and that meant Cheryl would have been 14.  There would have been plenty of time alone together, since their parents both worked full time.
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Did that fantasy work?  Yes sir, it certainly did work.  That night... Cheryl and I made hot, wet, passionate love together.  Those butterflies in my belly for Cheryl were thus every bit as strong as the ones that I'd felt with Jasmine a thousand splendid times before in my youth.
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It was marvelous feeling.  Those butterflies in my belly were intensely fluttering for my beautiful Cheryl... since she was now my unofficial "sister".  Did it matter that I was Charlie instead of Aslam?  No... what mattered was that I was being intimate with Cheryl, and she was the one who was making my heart race.  Cheryl was the girl giving my belly intense butterflies.  Cheryl was now my taboo teenage sister lover.  It was Cheryl's soul that was fusing together with mine.  And it was wonderful!!!
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Ever since that day when I first conceived of the "Charlie & Cheryl" fantasy, the butterflies and orgasms with Cheryl have been as intense as the ones in my youth that I shared with Jasmine.
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Every day that I spend with Cheryl is more joyful now.... not that I was ever the slightest bit unhappy being married to Cheryl.  I'd just never thought that I could be so INCREDIBLY happy.
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But my "Charlie & Cheryl" fantasy is pretty much 24/7 now.  Looking at Cheryl... her face, her smile, her lips, her trim body, her cute rump, her petite boobs... I now see my younger teenage sister.  I enjoy being a guy of 17 again.  I enjoy constantly pretending that Cheryl is my sister.
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Now, I look forward to being with Cheryl in bed every night.  We don't need to make love every night, but we average maybe 2 or 3 times per week.  If one of us is too tired, then we just kiss and cuddle and whisper for a few minutes before going to sleep.  Besides... my orgasms seem more powerful, and I definitely ejaculate more semen into Cheryl's pussy if my prick is given a full 48 hours to recharge instead of only 24.
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Chapter 57:  The Divinity of Female Pubic Hair
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Pubic hair has always held a special fascination for me... specifically, female pubic hair.

Why? Because as far as I am aware, human beings are the only lifeforms that have pubic hair.

Lots of other mammals have hair or fur everywhere... but humans are the only lifeforms that specifically have hair around their genitals.

It is my opinion that pubic hair is divine.

It is my opinion that besides the ability to build, to ponder philosophy, to understand abstract concepts, to ponder God, and to differentiate between good and evil... pubic hair was another special creation by God to set humans apart from all of the other living beings that He created.

It is my opinion that God gave humans pubic hair as a signal of sexual maturity and also to be visually exciting, pleasing, and contrasting. 

Does that mean human females should be restricted from removing their pubic hair if they so desire?  Absolutely not!!!  Doing whatever you want to do (as long as others are not harmed by your actions) is the very essence of freedom.

But I'm glad that both Jasmine and Cheryl did not feel the need nor feel any social pressure to remove their pubic hair.

Based on the images that I have viewed on the internet of nude ladies (yes, I definitely enjoy looking at soft-core images of attractive naked ladies)... I've noticed that the trend for at least the past decade seems to strongly lean towards the bald pussy. I wouldn't exactly say that I find the bald pussy unattractive... but I just don't feel the same jolt of excitement when I see a nice hairy pussy bush.

Other people obviously feel the same way that I do about female pubic hair... as evidenced by the numerous websites which are dedicated to females who do not remove the natural hair that God has blessed them with... including armpit hair and arm hair.

FYI... I have been granted permission from the copyright owners of a website dedicated to naturally unshaven females to legally post images of attractive females with pubic hair (and armpit hair) on another alternate blog account that I've created which features the models performing erotic stripteases.  That blog has no references or comments related to sibling incest.  None of the models featured made any claims or dropped any hints about engaging in sibling incest.

Here is a separate blog located on this account which lists 35 models with normal portrait photos, a few details, and the link to each model's striptease blog:
 https://sister-fetish-images.blogspot.com

Here are the direct links to a few of my favorite striptease models as featured on my alternate blog:
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Elena, age 21 (long-haired petite blonde Ukrainian beauty who could pass for "Lady Godiva"):
 https://elena-striptease.blogspot.com

Erika, age 22 (impish Russian brunette who enjoys the sun, fun, and mud):
 https://erika-striptease.blogspot.com

Canella, age 19 (hot Russian brunette coed):
 https://canella-striptease.blogspot.com 

Nicole, age 21 (the piercing blue eyes of a USA brunette hottie with blonde highlights):
 https://nicole-striptease.blogspot.com

Felix, age 24 (playful USA brunette with delicate arm & leg hair):
 https://felix-striptease.blogspot.com

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Chapter 58:  A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words
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While working to collect images for the re-publishing of beautiful females with natural pubic hair on my alternate blog (after having received approval from the copyright owners), I did happen to stumble across a young lady who looked very similar to my beautiful sister Jasmine... pretty much the same way Jasmine looked in her teens and early twenties. The young lady's name is "Fairy".

Everything about this amazingly gorgeous young lady named Fairy reminded me of Jasmine. Fairy could have passed for the fraternal twin sister of Jasmine.
 - Her straight black hair
 - Her piercing brown eyes
 - Her black eyebrows
 - Her happily playful smile
 - Her perfectly straight white teeth
 - Her adorable little ears
 - The shape of her lips
 - Her cute nose
 - Her smooth olive skin
 - Her small boobs
 - Her perky nipples
 - Her slender little feminine body
 - The beautiful twin moons of her rump
 - Her pussy softly arrayed with a natural "star pattern" of black public hair
 - Her generally delicate features


Here's a few photo portraits of Fairy:
.Here's the link to my alternate blog containing images of Fairy in various amazing stages of stripteasing and undressing:
 https://fairy-striptease.blogspot.com
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Chapter 59:  The Gilligan Syndrome

The university that I attended years ago (actually decades ago) while studying civil engineering had a small free weekly newspaper that was published by students.  Although I always picked up a copy of the student newspaper to look at, there was rarely anything published that interested me... with one single exception.
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On the front page during a random week in the spring semester of my freshman year was a colorful cartoon drawing of a young man in a red shirt, light blue pants, a white sailor's hat, and white sneakers.  He was relaxing next to the ocean on a deserted sandy beach, sipping from a straw out of a coconut cup, and reading the comics section of a newspaper.  There were lots of palm trees nearby.  The story was entitled "The Gilligan Syndrome".
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I immediately recognized the character as Gilligan, because I loved watching reruns of Gilligan's Island on American TV when our family moved to the USA.


Here's a few images from Gilligan's Island:
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The story accompanying the cover photo in the student newspaper was a discussion about the inability of some individuals to grow up, to mature into an adult, and to become competent.
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The author basically said that Gilligan would never become the Skipper... no matter how many years passed.  Gilligan would always remain incompetent, and he would never really get anywhere in life.
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On the plus side, though... that author stated that Gilligan was happy and blissfully ignorant of much that went on around him.
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Pondering my own life, I instantly understood the concept of "The Gilligan Syndrome".  I was pretty much a bumbling fool, just like Gilligan was.  Still, Gilligan was respectful and he didn't lie... which was also similar to my personality.
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But just like Gilligan never seemed to envision himself becoming the Skipper... did I ever envision myself becoming a brave, smart, and amazing guy like my Father?  No.
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Many years have passed since first reading that article at the university, and I recall wondering at that time what the future would hold for me.  The initial reaction that I felt while reading "The Gilligan Syndrome" proved to be accurate.
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No, I have never become as competent or as grown up as my Father... my real-life Skipper.
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Yet, that realization didn't bother me.  Just like Gilligan... I'm happily content to bumble through life while enjoying myself.
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I don't recall if the author's intent was to try and convince the Gilligans of the world to do better... such as to strive to actually become the Skipper... or if it would be OK to spend the rest of their lives as Gilligan.  Too bad I didn't save that article.
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The only sad thing that about Gilligan that I observed while watching the show was that he seemed to have a very deep-seated fear of anything sensual, romantic, or intimate.  Whenever Mary Ann or Ginger would try to kiss him... Gilligan would invariably turn away, run away, or faint.  Sometimes, Gilligan would recoil away so quickly from Mary Ann or Ginger that he would knock himself out on a palm tree.
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I'm happy that the sensual romance Jasmine and I shared during our youth and into early adulthood made our lives so fulfilling.  I'm also happy that Cheryl and I can share sensual romance and enjoy passion.
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In the realm of romantic love, intimacy, and having a family... I'm glad that Gilligan and I are polar opposites.
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Chapter 60:  A Few Favorites
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This brief chapter consists of nothing but a few links to audio-visuals & stories that I found to be captivating and interesting.

  • Yoplait yogurt commercial featuring an obviously real brother & sister duo who are engaged in an emotional after-school adventure:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2IhwkRYEyHI


  • The music video for my all-time favorite song "Sister Christian" by Night Ranger:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9PGxZTYDtmg


  • Preview trailer of my all-time favorite episode of Star Trek - "Metamorphosis" (it was a story about romance; first broadcast in 1967) plus my brief discussion of that episode:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PkjeZeTu0dQ

https://forbidden-love-metamorphosis.blogspot.com/
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Chapter 61:  Cheryl's Holy Figurines
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Adding a chapter about Cheryl's holy figurines seemed like a small though appropriate way to balance and address her interests after posting numerous photos of things that interest me.
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Here is a photo of Cheryl's holy figurines, which we are using
as the centerpiece for our dining room table:



And here's the story behind the figurines.
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During the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, there were 21 missions constructed in the area that would later become known as the state of California in the United States.
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The missions spanned a distance of 600 miles along an unpaved dirt road between San Diego and San Francisco.  The missions were spaced approximately every 30 miles, which was the average distance that a traveler on horseback would be able to cover in one day.
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This 600 mile stretch of ancient dirt road has since been paved, and it is officially known as the "El Camino Real" (Spanish for "The Royal Road").
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In the fall of 2013, Cheryl and I enjoyed sharing a wonderfully romantic mini-vacation together.  We spent 2 nights at a luxury ocean-front hotel in Monterey, California.  We visited a half-dozen missions along the "El Camino Real" in Northern California.
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While perusing the mission gift shops, I noticed that Cheryl was especially drawn to the various miniature holy figurines on display and available for purchase in the glass cases.  The fascination in Cheryl's gorgeous blue eyes as she gazed into the glass cases was obvious.
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Considering the incredible detail of each figurine, the prices were very reasonable... so I insisted that Cheryl pick out whatever she wanted.  After reassuring her that I was also enchanted by the figurines, Cheryl carefully studied and pondered the vast selection.
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She finally picked out a beautiful sculpture entitled "The Last Supper" featuring Christ and His 12 disciples... plus 3 single figurines (Saint Anthony, The Archangel Michael, and The Virgin Mary).
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The total price for all 4 items was less than $75, which we both considered to be an amazing bargain.
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Sitting in the simple sanctuary pews in the mission afterwards, with the figurines in boxes piled next to her... Cheryl excitedly whispered her thankfulness to God for everything and everyone in her life.  She was thankful for our marriage, our family, our extended families, our friends, our church, our jobs, our home... and even Melanie's girlfriend Rayna.  Finally, Cheryl whispered that the figurines would be the new centerpiece for our dining room table... which had never had a centerpiece before.
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We also visited a winery for a tour and enjoyed a few tastes of wine.  Cheryl and I bought a $30 bottle of white wine... because we both were impressed by the free sample.  The fruit flavor was appealing... but the major selling point was the lack of a burning sensation to our tongues, our throats, and our bellies.  The wine we chose did not taste like flammable poison... unlike most of the other alcoholic beverages we had tasted over the years and were never able to finish.
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Back at our hotel on the second night, after a nice seafood dinner... Cheryl and I enjoyed sipping the wine while sitting on the balcony at sunset.  The holy figurines had gotten me thinking about God, the Bible, our church, sin, and the perception of sin.
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Cheryl was able to openly discuss everything with me.  She admitted to still being sort of bothered by the fact that Melanie was a lesbian, but realized there was absolutely nothing that she could do about it.  And if Melanie was in love and happy, Cheryl whispered to me... then maybe it really wasn't much of a sin after all.  Maybe it really wasn't a sin, Cheryl admitted guardedly... but asked me not to tell anyone at church about her comments if Melanie's orientation was ever to become public knowledge among our fellow church members.
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I asked Cheryl about hypocrisy, and asked why we were members of a church that forbids the consumption of alcohol (Southern Baptist)... and yet here we were both enjoying a bottle of wine.  But everyone recalls in the Bible, Jesus turned water into wine.  Cheryl had to admit that some restrictions are indeed stupid... including all of the insane Bible verses that I was able to remember and point out to her.
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Finally, I asked Cheryl if unusual fetishes are a sin... such as a foot & toe fetish.  "Of course not, Aslam!!!" was her indignant reply.  "And I know that you've asked several times to play with my feet, and that's fine to ask... but you know that my feet are ticklish, so please don't keep asking to kiss and suck on my feet or toes!"
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Late on the Saturday morning a week following our return home from Monterey, Cheryl and I were walking down the stairs when she suddenly shrieked "Look at that!!!" with an excited finger pointed towards our dining room table.
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There, in the middle of our dining room table, were the 4 figurines that Cheryl had lovingly arranged.  A large single shaft of sunlight was streaming downward from a small accent window located about 15' above the floor... brilliantly illuminating the figurines.
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Agreeing that the little scene did indeed look beautiful, I grabbed our digital camera to take some photographs... and it was surprising how nicely the digital images turned out.  Those images are more than worthy as accompaniments to this autobiography.
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The balance of the images of "Cheryl's Holy Figurines" have been placed at the end of this autobiography.
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Chapter 62:  Epilogue I
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On the initial publishing date of "A Mansion in the Desert" (April 2014)... Mother is alive and well in her early 90's.
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Melanie has graduated from the university and has since moved out, and both she and Rayna live happily together in a rented house with Rayna's older sister and a bunch of pets.  Kassidy is attending the local university.

Jasmine and I are slowly moving through middle age and are headed towards retirement in another decade.  Jasmine is a grandmother 4 times over.  I have a robust belly now... and my once-thick head of black hair is thin, getting grey, and slowly disappearing.  Jasmine has some fat upon her hips, thighs, and upper arms... and a few streaks of grey hair.  Both of us have wrinkles, and both of us are slower moving.
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Cheryl is getting older, too (of course; who isn't?)... but her trim figure, her beautiful face, and her blonde hair make her look years younger than either Jasmine or me.
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Yet... I still gaze upon Jasmine through a romantic haze; not seeing any fat or wrinkles or grey hair.  Jasmine will always be beautiful and young in my eyes.  Jasmine was the paradox of love that I had; yet she was also the paradox of love that I could never have.
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Now Cheryl has become the amazing paradox of love that I do have... by my pretending that she's my sister.  I don't think that I could love Cheryl more than I do right now in 2014.
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Although the splendid nights that Jasmine and I spent hugging, nose nuzzling, lip kissing, and cheek rubbing on a padded sofa bench in a Middle Eastern courtyard under blue starlight and blue moonlight are long over... they are not forgotten.  Those splendid nights will never be forgotten, even after Jasmine and I are long dead.  Why?  Because the moon will never forget the love that it was allowed to witness in the courtyard.
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Chapter 63:  Epilogue II - "Pixie Dust"
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Over the past year, while perusing Yahoo! Answers about the pleasures of consensual brother/sister incest... I had been noticing that the terms "The Westermarck Effect" and "Genetic Sexual Attraction" would sometimes be mentioned.
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Those terms seemed to be very interesting to me... mainly because I assumed that they were the rational scientific assessments made by mental health professionals which would affirm and accurately describe the feelings of attraction that Jasmine and I had shared.  However, those terms did seem to be rather sterile and cold.
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Upon further research, it was determined that those terms actually described the complete opposite of what I had first assumed.
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Both terms were theories which basically postulated that siblings who were reared together in the same household almost universally did NOT find each other sexually attractive... although if the siblings were raised separately and were to meet later in life (i.e., during or after puberty), then they might feel an instantaneous sexual attraction for each other.
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In other words... "The Westermarck Effect" and "Genetic Sexual Attraction" stated that the romantic relationship shared and enjoyed by Jasmine and me was essentially an impossibility.
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To me, those conclusions seemed bizarre... although those theories have apparently already been confirmed by billions of brothers and sisters worldwide who were raised to together, and who did not find each other sexually attractive.
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The only term frequently used which seemed to describe my relationship with Jasmine was "incest"... and that term was often peppered with colorful descriptive adjectives such as gross, disgusting, nasty, criminal, perverted, etc.
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Sometimes the term "sibling incest" might be described with the adjective "hot"... but that was relatively rare and it seemed to have a basis more in lust as opposed to anything involving romantic love.
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The purpose of my autobiography was an attempt to demonstrate that some sibling incest relationships are NOT universally gross, disgusting, nasty, criminal, and perverted.  Of course, I realize that the vast majority of people would still classify my relationship with Jasmine as gross, disgusting, nasty, criminal, and perverted.
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That's fine; so be it... but if my autobiography could help just one person or just one sibling couple to not feel guilty about having shared consensual incest and enjoyed it, then all of the effort would be worth it.
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Upon the completion of my autobiography and posting it in April 2014, I have looked back with great fondness at my relationship with Jasmine and the incredible happiness that we shared together.
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But there was still a level of confusion in my soul as to exactly why Jasmine and I were able to excite each other in ways that the vast majority of "normal" siblings seemed immune to.
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Obviously, the brother-sister taboo thrill was a huge contributing factor to our pleasure... as was the fact that we had virtually no contact with other kids our age for the early years of our lives in the Middle East.
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Today, simply pretending that Cheryl is my younger teenage sister has brought me to heightened levels of pleasure with Cheryl that I had always assumed would not be attainable.
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I was not born feeling romantically attracted to Jasmine, but it did take a spark to ignite that romantic attraction.  
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What was that spark?  It was simply the surprising fact that Jasmine was not disgusted nor repulsed by my initial interest in her body.
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And the spark fell upon my heart... and that spark thus ignited a fire deep within my soul that has never been extinguished.  
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A contributing factor which allowed that spark to ignite my romantic attraction towards Jasmine as an entire person (as opposed to simply lustful curiosity about her feminine body parts) was her complete lack of revulsion when I verbally declared my romantic interest in her.  Although Jasmine stated that we could not get married, she didn't try to talk me out of falling romantically in love with her.
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That's why I was able to fall 100% romantically in love with Jasmine on that night so many years ago.
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But now, after all these decades... I wanted a positive term that could accurately describe the romantic love and sensual affection that Jasmine and I had shared together.
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The term "sibling romance" seemed OK... but it didn't really electrify my soul.
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In late August 2014, I awoke one morning with a term that had suddenly popped into my head.  The term that came to me to describe our romantic sibling love was "pixie dust".
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Yes, of course!!!  "Pixie dust" was the term that I had been seeking.
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Why pixie dust?
 - Because pixie dust is magical.
 - Because I can easily imagine Jasmine's beautiful body sprinkled with pixie dust (it looks like a combination of gold and silver glitter).
 - Because pixie dust is something that I can visualize in my mind's eye... yet the vast majority of other siblings are totally blind to it.
 - Because pixie dust can be easily sprinkled by my mind's eye on Cheryl's beautiful body, too... simply by entertaining the fantasy that she's my teenage sister.
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In my memories, whenever I think about Jasmine... the pixie dust now seems to be sprinkled on her body, her face, her lips, her tongue, her hair, her feet, her toes, and all of her female body parts.
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In my memories... pixie dust is now also sprinkled on literally anything that Jasmine touched, or that Jasmine wore, or pretty much anything that was happening to us while we were acting romantic with each other:
 - It was pixie dust sprinkled upon my old raggedy play clothes whenever Jasmine worn them that made them look like fine works of art.
 - It was pixie dust that made the apron look beautiful whenever Jasmine wore it in the kitchen of our mansion back in the Middle East.
 - It was the pixie dust of blue starlight sprinkles that seemed to cascade down upon us from the heavens above when we sat together and cuddled on the padded sofa bench in the courtyard of our mansion.
 - It was pixie dust sprinkled upon Jasmine's naked body illuminated by candles that excited me when I first saw her lying on her big canopy bed... with her arms outstretched upwards to welcome me into her private world. 
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Today, I imagine seeing pixie dust sprinkled on Cheryl every time that I look upon her beauty... and everything that she wears or touches is sprinkled with pixie dust. 
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Pixie dust even has various scents.  Cheryl's perfume, the smell of her breath, the aroma of her hair, and the inviting steam from the food she cooks... all of those things seem to contain the scent of pixie dust.
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Since pixie dust does not exist anywhere except in my own mind... here's one final thought to ponder that popped into my head - 
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Question:   Am I insane?
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Answer:   Perhaps... but it feels marvelous!!!
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Images A:  Cheryl's Holy Figurines
  





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Images B:  "This Was Your Life"
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1 comment:

  1. Hello aslam
    First of all wud like to tell that u r a reallllllly good writer. I read it till the very end and oh man did I love it! Reallly nicely written. Kudos 2 u

    ReplyDelete