Chapter 21

The British authorities were like a beehive poked by a bear.

The military was on the streets again just like in Ireland where their presence was like salt on the wounds of time. It was like a quiet calm had settled over my savage heart to see the restlessness on the faces of the civilians on the street.

Leibah was filled with a greedy need for carnal sex. She constantly pestered me for my cock and I regretted my weakness in fulfilling her needs even when I knew I should be on my knees praying for the success of our mission.

Recently, I had been scouting out the large churches in the downtown area thinking that an attack there would certainly outrage the general public and might cause the authorities to make a mistake in their foolhardy efforts to root out our infiltration of their hedonistic society.

I knew that my initial mission had failed because I was far too quick to lose my faith in the purpose of my existence. I had fallen into the trap of football games, beer and loose women to sooth my hungry cock. This time I had Leibah with me and I hoped to avoid my hunger for the western women and their hairy pussies tempting me at every turn.

I had also been less than honest with my superiors about my willingness to sacrifice my life in some suicide bombing mission to go out in a blaze of martyred glory. I had no problem in talking some younger less selfish youth to take my place in martyrdom. I had no fear of shooting my way out of some capitalistic plot to entrap me but throwing my life away to add to the carnage on the street was not my solution to the problem of imperialistic defilement of our holy places. I preferred being the hammer of righteousness rather than the anvil of sacrifice headed for paradise to wallow in the pleasures of my 72 virgins.

My controller in Islamabad was well aware of my shortcomings and constantly reminded me of the consequences of a second failure. I knew he was referring to the future of my parents and siblings if I failed in this far more important second attempt to instill fear in the hearts of the weakened west.

In a moment of weakness, I walked into a nearby pub by the railroad station and had three beers in quick succession. A bad girl with huge tits sat beside me and she rubbed my business with her skillful hands. Against my better judgement, I bought her a drink and allowed her to roam about between my legs like she was my girlfriend with freedom to explore my carnal instincts.

Her name was Polly and she reminded me of my first western girlfriend called “Bitch”. I felt her tits and even ventured down her spine into the crack of her hot bottom. I found that I was entranced by the girl because she was obviously more interested in pleasuring me than her own needs for male attention.

It reminded me of that time in India when I was so filled with ripe juices that had to be sprayed on the beautiful Indian females interested in only one thing ... money.

“I was still in my teens and fearful that I would not have the nerve to detonate my suicide backpack to insure my welcome in paradise with my fair share of virgins. My handler was Mariah with her big tits and her little whimpers as I fed her my demanding cock. The border crossing was a cup of tea and I found refuge in the rest stand for the truckers moving down the highway. I lay shivering on the newspapers in the stall thinking of my plump handler with her generous use of pussy to contribute to my sexual education. On the outskirts of New Delhi, I paused at a bus stop to gather my thoughts and check my switches to confirm my detonator was ready for deployment.

I was sweating profusely and for some strange reason I had a most unfortunate erection that brought stares from the surrounding females waiting for the bus.

The Imam had schooled me well and I pulled out the remote detonator in the base of the kit. With just a few corrections I had it connected, and I searched the area to find a likely candidate to substitute for me in making the final journey to paradise.

I saw a young man and discovered to my embarrassment that he was a she, and in need of funds to bring dinner home to her many siblings and her sick mama. Her name was Lula and she was a tiny flower of femininity possessed of her unbroken hymen and a general fear of all males and most women. I convinced her to don my backpack telling her that it was filled with candy for the children in the huge school across the wide throughfare and I gave her a fistful of coins to purchase food for her family. The poor girl was overcome with gratitude and insisted on sucking my dick covering her head with her shawl to hide her sin from the other travelers.

I found her to be unique with her generous tongue and her delicate touch of her tongue on my shaft was a memory I often cherished.

I watched her walk through the front door of the school and did not hesitate to push the remote detonator.

I grew weak when there was no explosion and groaned out like a sick person. I pushed it second time with no result and decided to make my way across the street to discover the problem. The traffic slowed me down and that was most fortunate because the front side of the school melted into the dust of the ground outside.

The bomb exploded with great force and the debris flew in every direction.