Dr. Nasra Ali of Ottawa

"I have an incredibly flatulent wife, Doc, Choukri farts all the time," Mohammed Hersi lamented, as he sat on Dr. Nasra Ali's couch. The tall, burly, forty-something Somali man looked pensively at his psychiatrist, and wondered what was going on in her head. The doctor's lovely, at times stern face remained as inscrutable as ever.

"Mr. Hersi, women fart, just like men fart, it's a natural process of the human body, not much anyone can do about that," Dr. Ali replied, and the curvy, bronze-skinned and raven-haired psychiatrist leaned back in her chair, a pensive look on her lovely face. Try as she might, she was starting to resent Mohammed Hersi's comments, in spite of her usually clinical detachment.

Dr. Nasra Ali, born in the City of Dubai, United Arab Emirates, and educated at Oxford University had been practicing psychiatry in the Canadian capital for over a decade, but some of the innate things her clients brought up occasionally made her frown. In a world full of social and political conflict, racial strife, and religiously motivated craziness, this Somali dude had his boxers in a bunch because his wife liked to fart. Ha!

"I'm not bothered by Choukri's farts by any means, in fact, anything to do with her big butt turns me on, but we haven't been intimate in quite some time," Mohammed continued, and Dr. Nasra Ali stroked her chin thoughtfully. Now we're getting somewhere, the psychiatrist thought, glad that her charmingly annoying patient was finally getting to the root of what was bothering him.

"Why do you think your wife Choukri has stopped being intimate with you? Dr. Nasra Ali asked softly, and she carefully watched Mohammed Hersi's dark, handsome face. This was definitely a sore subject with him, all the more reason for them to broach it in their sessions. Mohammed licked his lips, and sighed, a look of supreme discomfort on his face.

"I'm not as young as I once was, Doc, I am forty five, and not everything works like it did when I was twenty, if you know what I mean," Mohammed said, and he exhaled sharply. To Dr. Nasra Ali, Mohammed Hersi looked like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. When his eyes met hers, he looked like he was ready to crumble. In spite of herself, Dr. Nasra Ali was...moved.

"Mr. Hersi, aging is a natural part of life, and there are medicines which can help a man of your years in that department," Dr. Nasra Ali said carefully, aware that this was a sore subject with a lot of men. As readily available as Viagra had become in recent years, it was still a taboo thing for men to discuss out loud. Men of a certain age did not like to admit that their youth and vigor were gone, and that they needed help in certain areas. Just another fact of life...

"Doc, I'd rather get my boners the old-fashioned way, or not at all," Mohammed said vehemently, and Dr. Nasra Ali flinched, a bit surprised by his angry tone of voice. It must have been written on her face, for Mohammed apologized, and she nodded gently. Sighing, Mohammed went on about the problems he and his wife Choukri had been experiencing in the bedroom, and the fact that she stopped showing any interest in him in recent months.

"Mr. Hersi, there's no shame in seeking help if you have a problem, as your doctor, I will do my best to help you," Dr. Nasra Ali said, and Mohammed Hersi looked at her, a spooked softness in his chestnut brown eyes. At six-foot-three, the burly, silver-haired Somali man had an imposing presence, but in that moment, he looked remarkably vulnerable. When Dr. Nasra Ali left her desk abruptly and came to sit near him, Mohammed Hersi blinked in surprise.

"Alright, Doc, we will try it your way," Mohammed Hersi said, bowing his head gently. Dr. Nasra Ali looked at him and smiled, then for some reason she gently laid her hand on top of his. Mohammed seemed surprised by the intimate gesture, but said nothing. The good doctor smiled, and then ended their session.

"I'm going to write you a prescription for Viagra," Dr. Nasra Ali said, and Mohammed smiled at her, grateful beyond measure. Mohammed took a long look at Dr. Nasra Ali before exiting the office. Only five-foot-four, the curvy, round little Emirati Arab psychiatrist was indeed a woman of mystery. I'm glad she's my shrink, Mohammed thought to himself as he headed for his car. As he drove home, the Somali-Canadian Muslim businessman felt hope for the first time in ages...

"Here comes the limp one," Choukri Abdirahman-Hersi's grating voice greeted Mohammed Hersi the moment he walked into their house, in the Cambrian neighborhood of Barrhaven, Ontario. Mohammed looked at his wife, a tall, curvy, Hijab-wearing Somali woman, and saw nothing but contempt in her eyes. When he tried to kiss her goodnight, Choukri brushed him away. Mohammed Hersi went to bed, sad and angry.

"I wish things were different," Mohammed said to himself, as he lay in bed. That night, he masturbated, and when he thought of his wife Choukri's curvy body and big round ass, his dick remained limp. Saddened, he thought about going to watch porn in the basement but realized that he might wake up Choukri, who snored loudly beside him.

Sighing, Mohammed Hersi continued to masturbate in the dark. For some reason, he thought of his shrink, the lovely and attentive Dr. Nasra Ali, the Emirati Arab woman who walked away from her family's prestigious oil empire in Dubai, U.A.E. to follow her passion for studying the human mind. Mohammed envisioned Dr. Nasra Ali's smiling face, and her curvy body, and that round ass which he'd glimpsed in her Capri pants. Mohammed marveled as his dick lengthened and hardened, like it hadn't in ages. Pretty soon he came, exploding all over himself. Surprised but pleased, Mohammed went to sleep with a smile on his face.

Elsewhere in the City of Ottawa, Ontario, in the plush suburb of Orleans, someone else was having trouble sleeping. Dr. Nasra Ali lay in bed, clad in a crimson negligee, and tossed and turned. The day had been tiresome, seeing patient after patient, and then there was the psychology classes which she taught at Algonquin College and Carleton University. All this made one of the Canadian capital's doctors one busy little bee...

"I'm going to end up a crazy cat lady," Nasra Ali thought to herself, as she lay alone in her bed. The young woman thought of her old life in Dubai, the city of her birth. The Ali family name was known and respected in the United Arab Emirates. They had millions in oil money. They sent their sons and daughters to study at schools like Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Cornell, Stanford and Oxford. Walking away from all that had been costly, but Nasra Ali did not regret her decision...

"I must make my own way and live my life by my own rules," Nasra Ali once told herself, on the day she boarded a flight to Europe from Dubai, intent on studying at Oxford University in the United Kingdom. Tradition would have her married off to some rich Emirati guy, but Nasra Ali had other plans. Besides, unbeknownst to her parents, Nasra didn't like Arab guys. She liked dark-skinned men, especially the ones from Eastern Africa.

While at Oxford University, Nasra Ali met a handsome Ethiopian Muslim named Ibrahim Tesfaye. He was spending a summer at Oxford as part of an exchange program with the University of Toronto in Ontario, Canada. The Emirati Arab heiress became fascinated with the tall, dark and handsome young black man. A whirlwind romance followed, and from that moment on, Nasra's life would never be the same.

In the Arab world, men of African descent are treated very poorly. While living in the United Kingdom, Nasra Ali saw lots of interracial couples. Young black men walked around with white women and even Asian women on the streets of London and Berkshire. In the Arab world, while lots of Arab men had dalliances with black women, Asian women and others, Arab women were off-limits to men of other races. This struck Nasra as unfair. All the more reason for her to enjoy some truly passionate moments with Ibrahim, the black Canadian hunk who stole her heart.

Fast forward a few years, and Nasra Ali was a licenced psychiatrist operating in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. her Oxford credentials impressed the Canadian government enough to grant her permanent resident status. Nasra and Ibrahim lost touch, but her attraction to black men did not go away. In the dark, Nasra Ali thought about the events of the day, and smiled as she remembered her session with Mohammed Hersi, the handsome but taciturn Somali guy.

"Hmmm," Nasra Ali whispered, as she envisioned Mohammed Hersi in bed with her. The handsome Somali man drew her into his arms, and kissed her. Nasra moaned softly as he began to lick her breasts, and caressed her curvy body. Spreading her thighs invitingly, Nasra sighed happily as Mohammed began eating her pussy. Just like that, doctor and patient tossed aside the rules and began making love...in fantasyland.

"Don't hold back, Nasra," Mohammed said, and a smiling Nasra knelt before him and grabbed his long and thick, magnificently dark dick. Nasra Ali took Mohammed's dick into her mouth and sucked him with gusto. Mohammed nodded gently at her as she fellated him. After getting her lover good and hard, Nasra looked at him expectantly.

"Make love to me," Nasra demanded, and a smiling Mohammed did just that. The Somali brother put her on all fours and spanked her big bronze ass, causing Nasra to giggle. Gripping her wide hips, Mohammed thrust his hard dick into Nasra's pussy. Moans and squeals erupted from Nasra as she began riding Mohammed's dick, and the Somali stud fucked her with gusto, ramming his way into her wet, tight pussy. And he didn't let up until he made Nasra cum, at least twice...

"Dammit," Nasra shouted, and she thrust two fingers into her pussy, wishing it were Mohammed Hersi's thick Somali dick in there instead. Pinching her nipples, Nasra continued to masturbate until a shuddering orgasm gripped her body. The young Emirati Arab woman smiled, enjoying this guilty pleasure in the privacy of her bedroom. If I ever cross this line with a patient it will be with Mohammed Hersi, Nasra Ali thought to herself before falling asleep.