So yea, there is a loser here in Vancouver who is raising my k** thinking its his.This is another of my real stories.A little about me first: I am an ...rab muslim guy living in Vancouver, Canada. I have a fantasy for Indian Hindu/Sikh girls, because for them a muslim cock is like a forbidden fruit.I met Harveer Kaur (name changed for privacy) on a dating site. She was married but unhappy. She told me she wanted to leave her husband and move on, thats why she was on that site. Soon she got. I started to pack my things as my mother was waiting for me in the car. She drove me to DFW airport since my father had a first-class ticket waiting for me to pick up there, my dorky brother wanted to stay home for some odd reason. I told my mother that I would be fine the whole plane trip to Southern California.When we got to the airport I picked up my ticket that my father had paid for. We had to wait for what seamed like an hour at the terminal gate that went to Los Angeles, my mother wanted. Since segregation was not considered punishment, a prisoner’s petition for a 602, a redress of grievances, would always go unanswered. Shultz smiled. Prison was a microcosm of the world. The good, the bad, and the ugly were all subject to the vagaries of existence. The only ones who survived in segregation were the ubermen. Those rare beings who somehow drew strength from adversity. Schultz knew little of Ben None, but he knew None had survived ten years, there bouts, in conditions guaranteed. Michele lay immobile underneath him as he emptied the last ofhis seed on her. When he had finished he lifted himself up off her andreturned to the overstuffed lounge chair. He pulled a handkerchief fromhis pocket and wiped his member clean and stuffed his slowly deflatingpenis inside his pants and zipped them up."There! That wasn't so bad was it? It's not like we fucked or anything!Just a bit of slap and tickle," Steve said apologetically, suddenlyrealising his impropriety and the ordeal he.