So is the bread actually – why is even the bread sweet here?” “I dunno, but I haven’t tried British bread before. I suppose it’s kinda the ...ame for me. Apart from the food thing. It’s pretty much the same food back in Canada. Apart from Harvey’s and Tim Horton’s...” “Wait a second - ,” she stopped in her tracks, “you’re Canadian? Holy shit!” Mia covered her mouth trying to hide her shock at her faux pas. “Yeah, I’m from Toronto. I should be offended that you’ve mistaken me for an American. Coming to the story, a Malayali housewife named Kavitha approached me over hangout after reading my story. I was in the office when I received the first message from Kavitha. We introduced ourselves, and then we started chatting. When we grew comfortable with each other, I asked her to send a picture. She denied saying if I see her picture, I may stop messaging. Because she thought she was not good looking and had a negative feeling about her body complexion, face, and figure. I convinced her. .. Umm... I mean, I'm actually a boy so I don't have a pussy or nothin... Plus I'm only about to be fifftein next week so you'll get in a lotta trouble..." Having this new information from me I thought he would give up but instead he grew impatient and he spoke again, this time a bit louder, "Listen to me man... I don't care if you say your too young... Truth is you could be lying, so I don't know how old you really are or what you even look like. I mean you don't see me either, so there's no. The room was large, lit with the dim electric lights imitating candles, flickering which made the room feel like an old comfortable club with armchairs, low tables and a nice plush carpet on the floor. A bar was at one end and a warm fireplace at the other corner. There must have been at least ten men, most of them black and huge; of course, that made me think that they were all well hung also…Anita headed straight to the bar and asked for a double rhum shot for me and a margarita for her.She.