Copyright Oggbashan July 2003 The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons. ******************************** It was my first professional enga...
"So, Izzy, you really like my farts?" Nabila Yassin said softly, and the young Yemeni Muslim woman looked at her lover Ismail "Izzy" Machar, as they sat inside the Starbucks located across the Ottawa Main Library on Metcalfe Street. It was a frosty Tuesday morning in mid-November in downtown Ottawa, Ontario, but inside the small, trendy café, things were def...
Tuesday "I didn't think you'd come..." The young man was standing in the same doorway of the same hotel room, apparently dressed in the same clothes. Sabine wondered whether he had gone home at all or had stayed there overnight. The room was paid for, after all, and she certainly wasn't going to use it. "That's what you said yesterday." Sabine's voice was...
GOLDIE PART 4 - FUCKING A PERSIAN'S WIFE AND ATTACKED BY A BEARDED ASSASSIN I'm sitting here in my cell thinking about why I've been convicted of murder. I just don't get it. I never killed the man, I've never killed anyone. Sure, I was seen together with him on the last day he was seen alive, but what does that prove? Nobody has ever been found a dead body...
Sometimes I wonder why so many annoying bozos, assorted creeps and bigots come my way, then I realize the answer the moment I ask myself the question. They come my way because I am the only one who can deal with them accordingly. Everyone I know run from trouble while I deal with it. Notice that I didn't say that I seek it out. Never bring trouble to trouble...
What happens in Montreal stays in Montreal, if only that were true. My name is Nadiya Caliph, and I'm a young Moroccan woman living in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. My parents, Mohammed and Farah Caliph sent me to study at Carleton University in the Canadian capital from our hometown of Beni Mellal in Central Morocco. I'm living far away from home for the fir...
Dear Readers, Originally, I naively posted this story in Loving Wives (those of you who are familiar with the category will understand what I mean). I've asked to have it moved here, because while it isn't a typical romance, it is still a love story. I hope you will enjoy it. You will find a list of the Hindi words used in the story along with their meanin...
Hi everyone :) this is my first ever published erotic book. I'm hoping to explore various dynamics from D/s, DDLG, HoH. I want to do this alongside interracial, white, black couples etc with each respective relationship(maybe a series?). I would really really appreciate feedback because I'm so nervous about this. But I hope it's arousing, as well as interest...
After the wedding things returned to their previous routine, mostly. Carl went to his classes at the college. Mina went to translate for Lauren. After his classes Carl would visit Lauren at her compound, or alternatively Lauren would come to Carl's. The day after the wedding Carl went to visit Lauren for lunch at her place. They didn't talk about the weddi...
After forty days in this desert of a country without seeing a single woman, let alone physical contact, Carl hungered for the sight of a woman. Any woman would do. The closest thing that one got to that in this country were the blue ghosts that walked the streets in little herds. They were completely covered in the traditional blue Afghan burqa or chador. E...