Belleville – Prospector Finch 1

Cover of Belleville - Prospector Finch's Harem Adventures 1

Yay! My first full length novel is published on Amazon!

Belleville: A Harem Adventure of Unearthly Proportions

In the heart of California’s second gold rush in 1860, Webster Finch, a young, unlucky prospector, dreams of striking gold to secure a simple life. But destiny has a far more extraordinary journey in store for him—one that stretches beyond the confines of Earth itself.

Captured by the hedonistic Alder, Finch’s quest for gold turns into a battle for freedom. Escaping them, only to encounter the belligerent Simmix, he finds himself at the center of a double conflict with the fate of our planet hanging in the balance.

But Finch is not alone. Along his globe-spanning adventure, he meets fabulous women from different corners of the world. From a San Francisco socialite, a defective Alder fembot, to a Japanese samurai. Each with their own reason to fight the star people, these women are drawn to Finch, offering their help—and their hearts.

“Belleville” weaves together the thrill of the California gold rush with the intrigue of science fiction, creating a unique gentlemen’s adventure. As Finch navigates alliances with these remarkable women, he uncovers the power of unity and love in the face of extraterrestrial threats.

Dive into an adventure that offers not just the lure of gold but the allure of the unknown. Where every turn is a discovery, and every alliance is a chance at love.

Are you ready to join Webster Finch on this planetary escapade to save Earth and win hearts along the way?

Belleville Cover Reveal

The Three Tiffanys – Season 2

Cover for The Three Tiffanys - Season 2

The adventures of The Three Tiffanys are set in the 1920s. Three Western women find their way into the harem and heart of the Sultan of Rakal Al Sulem. This time they are looking for the fabled ‘Pearl of the Desert.’ This season consists of ten threads of ten tweets, published from October 2023 to February 2024.

Download | Read the complete first season.

Download | Read the complete second season.

The Three Tiffanys - Season 2
The Three Tiffanys – Season 2

“In the heart of the vast Arabian desert, where golden sands whispered tales of yore, lay the verdant oasis town of Safa. Amidst its date palms and murmuring waters stood the majestic Al-Sahra Palace, adorned with azure tiles and walls that mirrored the hues of the setting sun.”

The traveling Talesman enchants his audience with “The Pearl of the Desert: A Tale Woven in the Sands of Time”. Despite the busy market all around, there is a hushed silence as he tells about a heartbroken princess who sheds tears for her lost love—tears that turn into pearls.

J. Tiffany holds her breath. Her eyes glisten with her own emotions. She can see Princess Laila, the desert’s luminous moon whose beauty is like the first blush of dawn.

“The zephyrs carried whispers of her enchantment to every corner of Safa,” the Talesman continues.

J gasps.

She returns to the palace of Farouz I, who rules the Sultanate of Rakal Al Sulem. J is one of his American wives. There are three, and all three are all called Tiffany. It was easier than she expected to become friends and share their husband with each other and with others. With a slight blush, she recalls the first time the three Tiffanys shared Farouz at the same time. And how Tiffany Walker indulged in the other two Tiffanys as well. J had heard that only women know how to please other women properly. In the case of Tiffany W, it was very true. After a moment of hesitation, J returned the favor. She knew exactly where to press her tongue and how to use her fingers. Tiffany W’s flushed face and the gasps of pleasure was thanks enough.

J smiled, cocked an eyebrow and crawled towards Tiffany Takei, the beautiful Asian wife. Tiffany T’s traditional upbringing had not prepared her for this! While J tasted her delectable lower lips, Tiffany W’s tongue flicked over the hard-as-pebbles buds of her petite breasts. T’s cries of passion surprised even herself. Then her self-consciousness took hold of her. T fled the sultan’s bedroom—Tiffany Takei fled into the desert after a row with her father and mother about her future. When Farouz’s men found her, she was sunburned and dehydrated.

Later, she heard that Farouz had reprimanded the other two Tiffanys for making her uncomfortable.


It took a couple of weeks, but T wanted to return the favor to her friends. She practiced with fingers on her own lips, and with her tongue on a melon. When J. Tiffany shivered into orgasm, T felt proud… and freed.

Upon entering T’s room, J’s eyes are shining like that time. T smiled. J had something to tell her.

J. Tiffany, with baited breath, and with emotion in her eyes, told her about ‘The Pearl of the Desert’.

Zarina, the sultan’s mother, recognizes the tale. What a coup if Farouz found that pearl. She knows The Three Tiffanys are up to the task.


Sheik Rushdi al-Khalaf, Sheik of Jalan, pondered on the newly received intelligence. It’s mostly palace gossip, of course. He’s learned however, that the tasty titbits of palace news, just like a swift, shows which way the wind blows. If this Desert Pearl exists, it must be his. Farouz’s affront to traditions must stop: his three Western wives are the last slap in the face of elder honor! By rights, Rushdi’s daughter should have been a high-ranking wife in the harem. He knows other elders are just as offended. When he finds the Pearl, he will unite them.

“Summon my Astronomer and my Seeress!” Rushi shouts. It’s time for them to earn their pay.

Dafni is first to arrive. Mystical henna decorates her arms, hands and face: intricate and melodious, threads of Past and Future. A midriff-top veils her bosom, sheer pants her ass and legs. Patches matching the color of her skin, hide her gender’s delicacies. His manhood twitches when he sees her prostrated before him. The proper position for women. Her curves call out to him. The only reason, Rushdi hasn’t bedded her is that her powers of prophecy would disappear. Only a ‘Woman of Purity’ can profess futures and wisdom.

Suraq only bows deeply. He says it’s the highest form of respect used at the prestigious Nuzhirah Academy. His ornate robe is decorated with shimmering stars, suns and moons. Rushdi is sure he sees him glance at Dafni’s ass. His uncle gifted him the conceited advisor. Otherwise, he would have had him beheaded long ago. But today, he needs him… and Dafni, the Seeress.

The rivalry between his two advisors is widely known. Rushdi learned long ago that competition for his favor sharpens their council. He will need them at their best to find the mysterious ‘Pearl of the Desert’.

Of course, Dafni knows the legend. Rushdi notices a quick superior glance at Suraq. Rushdi holds his smile. He will favor her this week unless her advice falls short of Suraq’s, who gives a thin smile.

“I will return with insights about this mysterious pearl, O, my Sheik.” She bows deeply, allowing him to glance down her cleavage and almost catch her nipples. He watches her hips sway out of his throne room.

With a silky voice that makes Rushdi’s teeth itch, the Astronomer bows. “As always, Sheik Rushdi, the stars are at the service of your benevolence.” He bows away.

“Pompous ass,” Rushdi mutters.

He calls for his spy master, Rayyit. The quiet man with a straight back informs him that he has already requested their agent at the palace for daily updates. The Sheik of Jalan can always count on him. As quietly as he entered, so he leaves.

Rushdi al-Khalaf can’t wait to build his own Palace of the Sultanate, and surround himself with the most beautiful women in his realm. Maybe, he’ll even look for another seeress, so he can have Dafni.


Zarina’s smile broadens when The Three Tiffanys trot into the Throne room and kneel before the sultan. She can read their love for her son in their faces, just as she notices how his eyes light up when they arrive. It’s not surprising their presence raises concerns and jealousies. Farouz looks upon his American wives: J. Tiffany Noore with hair the color of dawn, Tiffany Walker with hair the color of the sun, and Tiffany Takei with hair the color of the deepest night. How these three beautiful and different have captured is heart is still a mystery to him.

“J, you have enchanted me with the tale of the ‘Pearl of the Desert’. When you told it, I was the princess’ long-lost love. His pain upon leaving her heartbroken was mine. Only my sadness was three-fold because you are my princesses.”

Their eyes shine in his.

“Will you help me? Adding this Pearl to my treasures will once again prove to my people that I am the keeper of their traditions. It will silence my enemies who say that I squander our most respected customs. And if you three find the ‘Peal of the Desert’, everyone will accept your dedication to us.”

Technical Tiffany T is the first to frown. “Is the pearl even real, My Sultan?”

“If it is, my dears, then you are the only ones who can find it.”

“Are you so worried about your enemies, O Farouz?” adventurer Tiffany Walker asks.

“A sultan is always concerned about his power base.”

“The Pearl will enchant the hearts of men and women alike, just like a fairytale,” Hollywood J. Tiffany ponders. “Of course, we will help you.”

T looks at her kin-wife with raised eyebrows. “Do you know how to find the pearl, J?”

“No. But maybe this myth has its origin in truth?”

“OK. We can start by researching historical texts…” T concludes.

“I can visit some of my former pearl contacts. Maybe they have some more information?” Tiffany Walker wonders.

“I’ll visit the Talesman again,” J proposes, “to get some more details about the story.”

Farouz nods. This is exactly what he had hoped for. This is precisely why his mother advised him to reach out to The Three Tiffanys. He squeezes her hand, she his. Pride and love swelling his heart, he looks upon his wives, already deep in discussion about how best to address their adventure.

“I will start preparing the desert excursion,” Zarina offers.

“Are you coming with us, Sultana?” J wonders.

“Dear me, no. You three lovely ladies are already more than the desert can handle.”

A shy smile passes over J’s face.

“All of our resources are at your disposal,” Farouz adds. “Do I tell you often enough how much I love and admire you?”

“Never enough,” Tiffany W laughs. “Say it again…”

Farouz has a serious face. “You know I love all my wives and concubines, but you have enriched my life like no other women, except my mother. The stars destined it so.”


The reason Tiffany Walker left New York for the Arabian Peninsula was to take advantage of the failing pearling industry there. She knew a lot of women in the city wanted pearl necklaces—well the real ones. Although she also knew some who wanted the more liquid kind as well. So, she offers to check out her old contacts to find out more about the ‘Pearl of the Desert’. Does it exist? Has it been found? Are there interested parties? W. asks Farouz for some spending money. “You know, just to make sure people will be more cooperative”. The Sultan smiles. Especially when she folds some bills and hides them in her décolleté. He can’t get enough of her luscious twin mounds. W ‘ahem’s’ him back up. He looks in her eyes and lifts an eyebrow. When he did that on their first date, Tiffany knew he was the one. She let him wait 3 months.

W asks Tiffany T to come with her. Two foreign women would not arouse suspicion. When J huffs why she can’t come as well, W merely mentions she looks too intelligent. That comment gets frowns all round. T starts talking about her engineering degree, before W pulls her along.

“Did you really make him wait three months?” Tiffany Takei asks the New York blonde.

“For his first kiss…”

“Wha-Not even for… you know…”

“That took another three months,” W smiles coyly. “He only lasted fifteen minutes.”

T teehees at the revelation. How different it was for her.

The peal markets are all gone. Tiffany W knew this was happening. Her plan was to buy up up every last batch she could, then go back to sell them at home. She managed to get her hands on a lot of pearls from the more desperate divers. Instead of returning, she sent back packages. Farouz was the reason she stayed. The money from her business was enough to give her a year of comfortable living and partying in Rakal Al Sulem. It was at one of the parties that she met him. Tiffany W didn’t know who he was at the time. But the jealous looks she got, told her. Of course, it helps if someone is important and wealthy. But W liked him before she knew all this. He was oddly respectful, maybe even bashful, for a man in Arabia. Especially an important man. All the others just assumed she would drop in their arms… and beds. Farouz didn’t.

When he waited three months for the first kiss, she was his. And he was hers… Like a lovesick puppy. It was so sweet.

But to business. W finds one of her contacts. He deals in antiques now. His eyes gleam when he sees the two foreign women visit his stall. Then he recognizes W. He knows she’s with Farouz now, and he doesn’t want any trouble. He quickly reveals Sheik Rushdi al-Khalaf is also interested in the ‘Pearl of the Desert’. But the story is just that: a story. And a hoax. Anyone will claim they have it in their possession, but they’re all fake.


Farouz’s bed is circled in candles and incense. Lying on his side, he kneads and suckles J Tiffany’s right breast. Tiffany W rubs hers along his back, Tiffany T hers along his legs and middle on the front. His hard shaft is enjoying the attention of these three passionate women. W suggested they smooth in Rashid’s involvement slowly and sensuously. On the other hand, why would they spoil this blissful moment by talking about his greatest rival in the sultanate? More importantly, how did the sheik find out about the ‘Pearl of the Desert’, W wonders? Answering that question is easy: he has a spy in the Palace. It’s to be expected, but will still be a blow for Farouz after Mirina’s recent betrayal. Although, Farouz is accustomed to power plays, more than W is comfortable with. She doesn’t know how he does it? She hugs him. Farouz turns his head and kisses the exquisite blonde. He feels her affection for him, stiffening him so much more, much to the surprise of Tiffany T, who has her boobs wrapped around his manhood. Or, as much as she can, given her petite frame. Her hard nipples do wonders for him.

J Tiffany giggles when he crosses his eyes. T has taken him in her mouth.

“O, my handsome Sultan, I can tell our dark-haired engineer is working on your tool!”

Farouz groans at the bad pun. J bites his nose in mock indignation.

“Urgh,” he manages, but only because T cups his balls. And And W tickles his ear with her tongue.

J watches how T lovingly sucks on his tip, bobbing just a tad. “Just checking his hydraulics, are we?” she laughs. Before Farouz can react, J plants her lips on his and starts a tongue dance. W’s hand snakes its way to his chest and nipple.

Farouz caresses T’s hair with both hands. He guides her speed and direction. Gurgling when W circles his right nipple, sucking as J offers him hers, he floats his way to star sparkling release. Unlike in the beginning, Tiffany T keeps sucking, and swallowing his spurting jizz. J kisses his lips again, W his neck. Two pair of hands slide over his body, his back, his chest, his bum, his legs. Even if he wanted to, Farouz would not be able to keep his eyes open under the overwhelming assault on his senses. He whimpers as his last spurt jets in T’s mouth.

“Is our night still young, my Prince?” W whispers in his ear. Farouz’s sleepy smile is all the answer she needs. There will be more frolicking this night. Her nipples grow stiff in anticipation. She catches J mouthing to T “well done!” The Three Tiffanys change places around him.

At breakfast, after an entangled, amorous and somewhat sleepless night, Tiffany Walker tells Farouz about Rashid. His mood is immediately serious, because he realizes this means there is a spy in his court. Someone who can overhear his conversations with his wives and his mother.


The lieutenant stands at attention when Tiffany Walker visits the Navy base. She opted for a conservative cream-colored long-sleeved blouse, with navy blue palazzo pants, a green shawl and a straw wide-brimmed hat. Sunglasses give away her modernity, her blonde hair her heritage. W keeps her eyes straight when walks behind the lieutenant. The sailors fall over each other to catch a glance of her. Some whistle and call out. Others wave. The young officer casts two sideways glances at his men, silencing them all. W notices the murmur about the Sultan. It isn’t a large Navy, but it’s bigger than that of his neighbors. Most importantly, they have new diving wet suits. And that is what Tiffany W is here to borrow. With red cheeks, the lieutenant holds each suit in front of her to determine if it would fit, ignoring her boobs. Or at least, trying to. Only one was long enough for her. It seems she is taller than the divers. A trickle of perspiration sliding down from his temple, the lieutenant turns around while he hears her rustling out of her clothes and fit into the diving suit. His heart pounds.


Tiffany Takei joins W, and steers their boat to the indicated position along the coast. The blonde’s blue eyes are barely visible behind her goggles and respirator. But she’s smiling. Water splashes over the side of the boat. T follows the string of rising white bubbles.

The water is beautifully transparent. W sees rays of sun diving alongside of her. A small school of glittering silver fish scatters when she passes them, only to regroup when she leaves. This is what Tiffany W hoped for when she came here from New York: clear waters, adventure! Her hand disappears in a bush of waving leaves. It tickles. Then she feels the rough edges of the oysters. They like the shade. Tiffany W collects five of them, hoping that one will contain a sensuous pearl that could pass for the ‘Pearl of the Desert’. It’s part of a backup plan.

Farouz agreed to it, but only in case of an emergency. He feels strongly that he shouldn’t trick his people, even his enemies. “Trust is like incense, when it burns it leaves a pleasant smell, but when it disappears it never returns.” This is why Tiffany W fell in love with him.

While W gets out of her diving suit, Tiffany T snaps open one of the oysters. There is a pearl inside. It’s iridescent sheen changes color when she rolls it between her fingers.

“A rainbow pearl!” W yays.

It’s smooth and perfectly rounded. Its strong luster shines in the sunlight.


In the marketplace, J. Tiffany seeks out the Talesman again. Maybe the story of princess Laila can give more clues about the ‘Pearl of the Desert’. Even though the tale is probably made up, it’s worth investigating further. Sometimes myths are based on truth. She’ll find out.


Farouz finds Tifffany Takei in his library. He comes here sometimes to pick a random book. He trusts it will contain the wisdom he will need some day. He’s not surprised to find his studious wife here. The line between her brows is as lovely as she is.

Tiffany T doesn’t hear him. She is engulfed in an atlas of Rakal Al Sulem. It’s more extensive than she thought. Most importantly, it’s not all desert. T makes a point of checking Jalan as well, Sheik Rushdi al-Khalaf’s domain. That, however, looks mostly like desert. So, it’s no surprise that he’s jealous.

Farouz observes how T’s slender fingers slide across the pages of the atlas. She found Jalan. He smiles when she taps her finger on its location. There is something endearing about the way she researches. It shows her devotion to the task at hand, and hopefully to him as well.

T notices there’s someone nearby. A kiss on her neck makes her smile. She turns to Farouz and kisses him full on the lips… in public! This is something that a few months ago would have been impossible for her. Adding tongue, even more so. Now, it’s all a fairy tale for her. She has never felt this free before. Of course, there are many restrictions here as well. But those make sense. It’s a royal court after all. There are protocols and rules of propriety. It’s hard to put into words, but her spirit is free. Farouz doesn’t ‘allow’, he ‘encourages’. When Farouz cops a feel of her left breast, that’s more than Tiffany T can take in public—even in an empty library. She pushes his hand away, and feels his smile in their kiss.

“Tonight,” she promises.

His eyes sparkle in hers.

Months ago, she would never have said this to a man.

“What have you found out?” Farouz asks, reluctantly letting her go. Just one more little kiss. He loves her cute smile.

“Nothing yet, O my Sultan,” she teases. (She never did this before either!) “I’m looking for Safa and Al-Sahra Palace. They’re not on this map of the sultanate.”

She quickly gives him a little kiss as well. “I’ll work my way back to older maps of your family’s domain. If I can’t find anything there, I’ll look for ancient ruins. Maybe J can get some more information from the Talesman, maybe landmarks or other indications of a location.”

Farouz loves it how Tiffany T’s eyes shine with excitement at her task. What a beauty she is right now!

“Come with me,” he commands curtly.

Expecting him to lead her to other helpful books, T readily agrees. Once she recognizes the hall to his bedroom, she frowns in expectation.

Nipples stiff, his tongue on her clit, T trembles into another orgasm. When she tries to catch her breath, his cock enters her more than well-lubricated pussy. She groans in delight.

Farouz is alight with passion for his exotic wife. He bangs into her, all fired up by his love.


“We observed The Three Tiffanys in the Sultan’s palace, my sheik,” Rayyit, the spy master, informs Rushdi.

The sheik’s inner voice drowns out what follows with “Soon to be my palace!”

“… studying historic maps. I’m awaiting confirmation on the findings of the one called Walker.”

“The Three Tiffanys?” Suraq, the astrologer, asks.

A disquieting silence answers him.

Biting his teeth and forcing a quick smile, he explains, “Alignment of al-Mushtari, the benevolent guardian of prosperity, and Nabtūn, the king of the waters, indicate three maidens and treasure.”

“The tale starts and ends with the third Tiffany.” Dafni wonders.

Rushdi likes it that Rayyit never looks at his seeress as he would a woman. How he manages to ignore her femininity covered with mystical henna is impressive. Very unlike the court advisor his uncle gifted him. He decides to let this little scene play out for a moment longer.

Rayyit tells them about J. Tiffany Noore’s second meeting with the Talesman. He awaits an update from his palace informant about that.

Rushdi wonders which advisor his silence will draw out. He hopes it’s Suraq. He takes the opportunity to let his eyes to roam over the seeress’ sheer pants, exposed waist, and jeweled bellybutton. He will find a replacement for her before he becomes sultan. Bedding Dafni has been in the cards for a long time, allowing himself this little play on words.

It’s Suraq. “O my sheik, I will continue to delve into the celestial tapestry, seeking insights into the fate of three maidens. Are they destined to uncover a hidden treasure? The stars whisper of an auspicious celestial alignment, signaling a period of serendipitous discoveries.”

Clever, although a bit disappointing. Rushdi recognizes his astrologer’s attempt to find some wiggle room. For Dafni, he prefers a room to wiggle. His little sheik stretches at the expected moistness of the seeress sitting on his lap, the henna symbols of Past and Future dancing. He’s going to summon his vizier to find a new seeress immediately. His little sheik can’t wait any longer!

Dafni observes how her benefactor’s passions transform his face. His greedy eyes, lip-licking-tongue, hip-shifting, crotch-freeing movements easily reveal his passion for her. His energies shifted into one clear conclusion: she will be his soon. So far, the requirement of her continued virtue favoring her predictive magic, kept him at bay. It would either be her lack of usefulness or his lack of patience that would break the spell. His impatience won.

Straightening her back, the seeress gracefully turns the palms of her hands up. “O sheik, sands hide the object of this myth. Their dance with the winds—though delightful—can blur our eyes. Turned to storm, they hide dangers within… like three resourceful and duplicitous women.”


The Three Tiffanys’ bottoms bent over at the foot of his bed arouse Farouz to no end. Guided by his merciless, stiff cock, he pumps into them with wild and random abandon. The different sounds, giggles and moans each Tiffany makes, only further enfervors this frenzied fantasy. Tiffany Takei has a small round butt, Tiffany Walker has heart shaped one, and J. Tiffany Noore has full, rounded ass cheeks. Farouz loves them all. He delights in how they wobble when he bangs into them. It’s no surprise to him that Tiffany W is the first to push back in rhythm. Although the ‘Pearl of the Desert’ has not been found yet, this is his way of rewarding his three American wives, for uncovering its location. The Three Tiffanys recognize his last grunt, and quickly kneel in front of him, ready to receive his seed. Farouz’s knees almost give out.


Helped by the extra details J got from the Talesman, T identifies what could be the ruin of the Al-Sahra Palace where the oasis town of Safa could have been. A long shot. Ever the adventuress, W suggests riding out there. It would be too easy for Rushdi to follow a large caravan.

J rode a dromedary once. It was when she was filming ‘The Sheik’. All the crew were rewarded with a camel ride. For T and W, this is the first time. T almost fell off when her animal stood up, hind legs first. After one hour, W needs to stop, unable to find a comfortable rhythm. Once J explains it’s more like a boat rocking, W retries. It’s better.

It takes them five days to arrive at their destination, welcomed only by sandy dunes. The dromedary’s height allows them to get a good all-round view. Nothing. Unrelented, W suggests they set up their camp here.

The first night is horrible. A desert storm shakes their tents loose. They spend most of the time making sure they stay well fastened. The rest of the time, they spend hoping the blowing sands don’t cover them entirely. T worries about the dromedaries, but they seem to be fine. At dawn, they dig out their tents and pitch them on a new flat clearing, taking last night wind direction into account. J says the heat will be unbearable soon, so they need to secure the canopy. They’ll only be able to work at dusk and at dawn. During the day it’s best to rest. For Tiffany Takei, the temperature brings back bad memories of being lost in the desert. W has to hold her back from drinking too much water. They rationed it for a two-week trip, because they couldn’t carry more. If they have to stay longer, they need to find the Safa oasis.

In the early dusk, J gets up on a dromedary and rides to the highest dune. Using what light is left, she binoculars her surroundings. There! A tuft of the top of a palm tree. The shifting sands made it invisible for them yesterday. “It’s best to head out there now,” she calls out.

Clawing their way through the sand, they reach what J saw. It’s the top of a palm tree alright, and only that. It blows away in the strong wind.

T is worried they’re in the wrong place, that she read the map all wrong. J wonders if she gave the right details to the others.

The Three Tiffanys huddle together in a cold tent. An angry wind tugs at its flaps. J. Tiffany reads the story of the ‘Pearl of the Desert’ as the Talesman told it. However, each time she heard him recite it, he changed words and details. Her favorite part is about Leila’s love. “The wind also sang of Jamil, a poet whose verses flowed like the ancient Tigris, powerful and serene. He was Laila’s heart’s compass, guiding her through storms of longing. Every night, beneath the velvet canopy of stars, he would serenade her…” J quickly skips down the poem. “Al-Qutb stands guard over the silent waters that whisper into the desert, where the scorpion’s tail sinks into the horizon at the hour when night and day embrace in fleeting twilight. The last rays of the sun kiss the peak of Mount Amīrah.” This J coaxed out of the storyteller. It may be a clue to the location. “T, do you know what Al-Qutb is?”

Tiffany Walker answers: “Easy. That’s the North Star. Why?”

J sits up. “And have you found anything about Mount Amīrah?”

“No, J. I told you before,” T says.

“What about in combination with the scorpion’s tail? Scorpio?”

“That’s in de middle of the Milky Way… Give me every clue in the story about stars, moons, time.”

After J does, T doesn’t have very much to work on. Mount Amīrah—meaning Princess—could be anwhere.

“A lonely, single mountain is the only thing that makes sense,” W suggests.

Looking at the copy of one of the older maps, Tiffany Takei runs her finger over different mountain ranges. She stops at Mount Zia, and taps on it. “It’s not far!”

“Do we have enough rations to get there?” W worries.

“Barely. Do we go back?”

“It’s risky, but we should continue.”

Three days later, they arrive at the foot of Mount Zia. W climbs onto a higher terrace, and helps the other up.

“The last rays of the sun kiss the peak of Mount Amīrah. Twin palms, like sentinels, hide the hidden spring of Safa,” J recites.

The Three Tiffanys scan the horizon. J’s heart skips a beat. She taps W on the shoulder and points. T turns her binoculars as well. The twin palms.

Scrambling down there, J smells water. Through the sounds of wind and sand, she also hears a low gurgling sound. Definitely water! They search the area: a cave opening! They climb down to find water. Deeper into the cave, they see ruins.


Rayyit and his men spy The Three Tiffanys climbing down. He orders one of them to go inform the sheik. The rest surround the opening, and wait for the sultan’s wives to reappear with the “Pearl of the Desert”.

The End of Season 2

Download | Read the complete first season.

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Kisses, Tiffany

Merchant Zayed’s Harem Adventures – Season 3

Cover for Merchant Zayed's Harem Adventures - Season 3

These are the adventures of Merchant Arash Zayed. This season consists of ten episodes of ten tweets each, published from October 2023 to February 2024. This story is set in the Persian world of the 1001 nights. Merchant Arash Zayed is sent on a mission to find an unknown treasure, while his first wife and his mother prepare his second wedding.

Download | Read the complete first season

Download | Read the complete second season

Download | Read the complete third season

Cover of Zayed's Season 3 with Princess Atossa.

“In Pairidaeza, where love’s flame burns bright,

Two hearts entwined, in pure delight.

Beneath the cypress trees so tall,

Their love eternal, their love for all.”

Arash Zayed, lying on his new wife’s lap reading this poem to her, bathes in the brightness of her amber eyes.

“The birds do sing, the fountains flow,

As love’s sweet nectar they bestow.

Their souls united, their love unbound,

In Pairidaeza, where true love is found.”

His manhood stirs. Her smile is full of sensual promise.

As quick as a bird’s wing flitters, Rohzin notices it grow.

Rohzin kisses him, her breasts pressing against his ear. More noticeable stirs.

Merchant Zayed concentrates on the last verse:

“Oh, love so pure, so true, so deep,

In Pairidaeza, where love’s seeds sleep.

To blossom forth, in radiant bloom,

A love eternal, beyond the tomb.”

He reaches for her fullness, softly squeezing, deftly searching for the hard nib of her nipple. Rohzin sighs when he finds it. Her eyes close. She lavishes in her lover’s caresses, her own passion awakening playfully. Rohzin slides her hand over his chest towards is belt.

“O beauty, let me sing your praise,” Arash improvises.

“And bask in your enchanting rays.

For you are all that I desire,

My heart’s one love, my soul’s on fire.

Your curves, like hills and valleys sweet,

A feast for weary eyes to eat.”

The last words are lost in her kisses.

As Rohzin grabs his stiffness, there is a knock on the door.

“My poor lovebirds,” Cyrene pouts from outside, “a messenger from the emir has arrived.”

Arash opens, face flushed. Cyrene hides her quick smile. Her heart flies with their happiness, awakening past emotions of her own. She forces herself not to look at his crotch, assuming there must be something there.

All business now, the merchant meets with the messenger, then calls for his horse to be saddled. He rushes to his new responsibilities. “A meeting with the Emir” Cyrene and Rohzin hear him say.


When Arash returns, he frowns telling his wife and mother about the curious task from the emir. He needs to visit Terjenli in the Golestan region to find a wise man, and trade for an unknown treasure. “You will know it when you see it,” the Emir dismissed him.

Is he being set up?

Although not far, the mountainous trek will take several days. Villagers will tell him where to find the wise man. He obviously won’t ask them about what the treasure could be. Maybe someone in the tavern will tell him anyway. Arash will need all his skills to make this trade.

Wasps swarm his brain, keeping him from slumber, and lovemaking. Each insect is an angle Arash can think of about the emir’s curious task. Rohzin’s loving fingers on his temples finally bring rest to his busy head.

He wakes up early to make preparations for the trip to Terjenli.


Shaheen’s tread was true. Merchant Zayed bought his reddish-brown horse last summer. He chose it for its swiftness and agility—and one white sock. He owns other horses, of course. But for the trip to Terjenli, in the rugged mountains of Golestan, he decided Shaheen would do best. They aren’t there yet. Arash estimated that, depending on his ability to find shelter and water, he would reach his destination in six days. He still feels that this is a strange mission: returning with an unknown treasure from a wise man. It’s a test! The emir knows what it is. When Zayed brings the emir anything but the right treasure, he will be punished.

And why send a merchant? Why not a regiment of soldiers? The emir said nothing about what he could trade with. He would never expect Arash to pay for the treasure himself, would he? No, he wouldn’t.

The first night is falling fast. Zayed finds a little stream. He makes his camp near soft grasses Shaheen prefers.


Sparks of his fire float towards the stars in the sky. Arash follows them. His mind drifts to beautiful Rohzin. In his mind’s eye he sees her smile, and her breasts. Her cool fingers tease his hardening cock. Arash closes his eyes and let’s this delight wash over him. He feels her slow soft strokes. Her other fingers caress his balls. He grunts when her lips find his tip, kiss his length downward, and nibble all the way back up. He sighs. It’s followed by a lazy smile. Familiar sensations stir his lust.

He pushes Rohzin down, kissing her, kneading her ample breast, nuzzling his way down to her Gate of Passion. It’s her turn to squirm. He loves how his tongue feels on her slit, snaking through her bush, tasting her. He loves the sounds she makes. Her quickening breath, the rising pitch of her moans, the lowering of her growls.

Rozhin writhes against him, looking for and finding that perfect spot that leads to greater bliss.

He smiles when she makes a new sound, adorable singing mmm’s.

Her body gasps in delight. She pulls his face on her pussy lips and rolls her hips to catch every elusive orgasmic tremor teasing through her body.

Arash’s lips probe inside of her, tasting her wetness, igniting another blissful shiver in his beloved. Smiling, loving he looks up. Fiery amber eyes shine in his. Atossa!

The princess gets on her knees, tweaking her nipples in her after-glow. Her finger crooks at him. He stands. She takes his cock in her mouth, and licks, and sucks, and kisses. Her talented lips blow the warmth of her love into his balls. The scent of her climax intoxicates his senses. Her lips enflame his lust. Her eyes inspire his passion. When a fingernail lightly caresses his scrotum, he knows his river will overflow. The stars in the sky don’t do justice to the fireworks building up within him. He closes his eyes.

When dampness replaces the fingernail, he opens his eyes again. Rohzin!

Her silky tongue slides of his roundness. Then she plops one testicle in her mouth, looking him in the eyes with adoration.

Atossa runs her hand along his length. Her eyes too sparkle with endless love. For him!

Their love envelops him completely. Shaking, he spurts his answer on both their faces. Not one, not two, nor three, nor four, but six jets of essence paint a loving picture on them. His beautiful wives!

Atossa and Rohzin kiss as kin-wives, smearing his devotion on each other.


Happy, Rohzin wakes to the song of the nightingale. Even though she was created as an adult woman, the zambānūg is only a couple of weeks old, and still delights in many of the worldly happenings. As a game, Rohzin once ranked her experiences so far, like enjoying a sunny morning. Stretching in that morning sun is also wonderfully refreshing. Not surprisingly, kissing Arash and sex with him get a high score. At the top of the list, though, is when Arash licks and kisses her womanhood. The sensual energy coursing through her body when he does, is addictive. A walk in Cyrene’s garden to cool in the shade is tremendously rewarding. So, after breakfast Rohzin will do just that.


Cyrene loves the scents of her garden. Even now, she lets herself be intoxicated by the all the perfumes her flowers wear. She mmm’s in delight at the gardener. The strong young man bumps into her with a lazy rhythm that sets her senses on fire. Their affair is only a couple of months old. Cyrene did not expect him to make these kinds of advances on a woman her age. But he seemed sincere, especially when she bared her firm breasts at him. His stiffy squirted instantly. It was flattering, of course. But Cyrene would have preferred his semen inside of her. How she had missed that since her husband died. The young man, however, was able to cum a second time, igniting shudders of ecstasy in every part of her body.

She is bent over a low wall, her tits swinging free. She loves how he plays with her right one now. His rod pushing and pulling in her, the squishy sound that makes, the slapping of his pelvis against her ass, overwhelms all her sensitivities. He rolls the hard bud of her breast. That last squeeze starts the tremors in her pussy, flowing deliciously towards every extremity. Cyrene closes her eyes, and lets the waves of sexiness overcome her. ‘He is close,’ she can tell. Today, she will treat him to a new experience: kneeling before him, exposing her tits. His eyes pop wide seeing Cyrene like that. With a grunt, his seed shoots out of his granite cock. She sees him struggle to keep his eyes open, relishing in his cum splattering on her two smooth mounds. His jizz tickles its way between them. Cyrene licks her lips sensuously. He rewards her with two more spurts before he stumbles back, catching his breath. So, she rewards him by sliding a finger over her left breast, collecting his juice, and slowly brings it to her mouth. Her tongue flicks it clean, then she sucks off the remainder. His face is red.

Cyrene’s fingers play with his lovely delivery, cocking a sexy eyebrow, and giving him a rapturous smile. His tunic lowers over his still willing manhood. Acting demurer than she feels, she looks away shyly… Then she sees Rohzin in the garden, looking surprised. Cyrene gasps.


In the emerald embrace of the Golestan mountains, lies the enchanting town of Terjenli. Merchant Zayed admires its houses, adorned with intricate wooden lattices, stand as silent sentinels of a bygone era, their balconies overflowing with the sweet fragrance of jasmine and roses. He goes to the bazaars, the tapestry of color and life. Artisans, their fingers dancing like skilled sorcerers, craft wonders from silk, silver, and stone. The air is heavy with the scent of saffron and sumac, and the chatter of the market tells of the daily lives of its people. A large group huddles near the spice stall. Zayed will inquire about the wise man with the grizzled, grey-haired vendor.

It takes a while before it’s his turn. “Dear lady, peace and success to you. Can you help me find the fabled wise man your town is famous for?”

She looks up. “And peace to you. Javad the Elder lives on top of the hill over there.”

Arash follows her pointing finger. Before he can thank the vendor, other customers already call for her attention.

Shaheen’s tread up the hill is steady and sure toward a house built in the mountain’s side. Its stone walls are weathered. Shutters close the windows. The wooden door is worse for wear.

Zayed knocks…

Zayed thumps with his fist…

Zayed bangs with hand and foot…

The door coughs and creaks under Arash’s poundings.

He should have asked the vendor if the wise man was at home.

Recalling an inn in town, Zayed mounts his horse again. That instant, the door wheezes open.

“Peace be with you, Javad the Elder!” Arash heads towards the opening.

There’s no one there. The entrance is as dark as the night that engulfs whole clouds and mountains. It smells musty. After entering, the door bangs shut. Zayed’s eyes try to peer through the darkness. Then two fiery orbs, gleaming like twin suns as if piercing through the veils of mystery that shroud the world, shine on him. Zayed moves back until his back is against the wall. They are eyes!

Candle after candle lights, revealing a cavernous room. Feathers shimmer with the brilliance of polished silver. Zayed looks up at a bird so colossal that its wings, when unfurled, could eclipse the sun itself, casting vast shadows over the entire town. The rukh caws like thunder.

“Are you here to kill me or to free me, little man?”

Zayed only hears his heart thumping in his ears.

“The magics of Javad hold me in this place. I will reward you if you free me,” the gigantic bird’s voice shakes through the merchant’s body.

The Rukh squints, followed by a deep sigh. A tingling sound distracts Zayed. A golden ring flickers in the lights as it twirls to its resting place.

“Free me and that magical ring is yours.”

Frown deeper than ever before, Arash looks up at the creature he only knows from myths and legends. Rukhs can carry enormous loads.

“Migthy Rukh, I’ m here to trade with Javad the Elder. It will not help my cause if I free you against his wishes.”

“I know what you seek, little merchant,” its voices booms, “why do you think the mage tied me to this place? I will not let you enter his treasure room. Unless…”

The ruhk’s eyes shine with cleverness. Zayed feels his mission slipping through his fingers. If the beast’s request is anything like in the tales of wonder, it will ask him to bring it one hundred feathers of the mystical Phoenix. ‘ I don’t have time for this.’

The bird grins. “It doesn’t require adventure,” it says, as if reading Zayed’s mind. “Only trade. Go to the village blacksmith and ask if you can borrow his hammer. It has the power to crush this chain’s weakest link. It will be hidden amongst his other tools, looking no different. Find it.”

“If it looks like his other tools, how will I recognize it?”

“You are a feeble merchant if you don’t know. Go! And don’t come back without it, or our next encounter will be most unpleasant for you.”

The ruhk spreads its immense wings. Its flap whooshes the air out of the room. Zayed tumbles along with the force of the wind, ending up outside. His back catches the brunt of his fall. He stretches, winces and rolls his shoulder. What did the emir get him into? From the beginning, Arash knew there was something wrong with this task. He didn’t expect this!

Wondering how to approach the situation, Zayed let’s Shaheen show the way back to the village. Whatever angle or ploy, he could use, first things first: he needs to assess the blacksmith. The innkeeper is a talkative sort likely to share some local gossip. Arash will be all ears.

Laying down five silver dinars, Zayed orders a room for a couple of days with full meals. In the greedy eyes of the innkeeper, he sees that shiny coins have the desired effect. The man orders his daughter to prepare the best room, and his cook to make a supper fit for a king.

The meal is simple but good. Arash licks his fingers. The innkeeper has kept him company, and his glass well filled. All the while, he mixes boasts, gossip and naughty observations about the women in the village. The man even suggests he may find appropriate bed companionship. Zayed thanks him for his more than adequate hospitality, but declines the last offer. Wobbling up the stairs towards his room, he savors the most important piece of information: Abriz, the blacksmith is a single woman. The innkeeper was adamant that no man has been able to tame her.


After a hearty late breakfast, accompanied with more tattles about the village women, Zayed heads towards the blacksmith’s shop. Upon entering, he sees a broad-shouldered woman wearing nothing but short pants and a leather apron, her body glistening from the fervor of her work.

“Good morning, blacksmith,” Zayed assesses a neutral greeting to be best.

Without looking, she answers: “Don’t tell me. The Innkeeper told you I’m a lone woman, and you’ve come to try your luck.” She keeps banging on a horseshoe.

“Actually,” he says, “I want to borrow your hammer.”

This makes her turn. Her deep blue eyes flash over his, before she turns to a bucket of water. Steam hisses like an angry cat when she drops the shoe into it.

Zayed notices her lips like ripe pomegranates, bursting with a rosy hue, hinting at the warmth and sweetness concealed within.

“My hammer?”, she looks him over. “Why? Don’t you have one of your own?” She dips her tongs in the bucket and retrieves the shoe then places it on her anvil.

Zayed catches her quick smile. “Nothing’s wrong with my hammer, Most Noble Blacksmith. No one ever complained about it.”

She starts working on the shoe again.

“As I’m sure no one ever complained about your efforts,” Arash continues. He wonders how far he should go, and decides to get to business. “I am told you possess a strong tool, capable of shaping even the most exotic of metals. May I use it?”

“Bring your metal here, and I’ll take care of it.” The forge illuminates her smile.

“I’m not one to shy away from heavy work,” Zayed tries. “But the object in question is too large to transport”.

She turns and leans to the side somewhat. Her powerful arms cup her muscled breasts. Zayed keeps his eyes on hers, instead of savoring the roundnesses under her apron.

“What will you give me for lending it?” the blacksmith bargains.

He makes a show of looking around her forge and her shop. “You are doing well, master blacksmith. That wall is covered with orders.” Still holding her gaze, he waves at her inventory. “You have a good supply of metals,” then at the other wall, “you have an elaborate assortment of tools.” He smiles at her. “Even though you are not wearing much, I don’t think you need new clothes, no matter how elegant they are.” He leans to the side somewhat and crosses his arms, imitating her stance. “Now what could a lone woman and master blacksmith want?”

Before they know it, both are naked. He admires every muscle in her body. She has eyes only for his hammer. Pushing him down, she straddles him. Zayed winces at the firm grip on his cock. But that doesn’t last, because she lowers herself on it. She is already wet. He has to experience her breasts. They are firm, her nipples are hard. When he pinches one, her eyes blink like butterfly wings. A low grunt escapes her throat. She grooves and slides and dances just as long as it takes for her to rumble from one ecstatic moment to the next. Arash smiles. He is just her tool. After what sounds like her last long groan, she collapses on her side. He squeezes her tight.

“Pick any hammer you need,” she coos.


Cyrene takes time to smooth her dress. Then, she takes a calming breath and knocks on Rohzin’s door. Her palms grow moist when her daughter-in-law says “Come in, Cyrene.”

Her heart, it seems, has a mind of its own and begins to do a dance in her chest. Cyrene shuts the door. Her hands decide to join her heart in its dance and start shaking. Head tilted forward, eyes closed, Cyrene musters all her courage to turn around and face Rohzin.

There is tea on the table and pastries. The opened double doors to the balcony allow the sun to brighten the room. It catches Rohzin’s in her splendor, pouring a cup and adding a half a spoon of honey, just the way Cyrene likes it. Steamy whirls from the tea invite Cyrene to sit down. Her hands prefer to reach for the cup instead of dancing. The tea and chair ground her to the world again.

“What lovely weather for outdoor activities, don’t you think, mother?”

Flames burn Cyrene’s cheeks, and crawl down her neck.

“The garden is so beautiful, this time of year,” Rohzin continues in a sweet voice.

Cyrene hears the teasing undertone; a mix of amusement and caring warmth.

“Rohzin, I need to explain…”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me, my dearest mother, but I know you want to.”

“I… He… You shouldn’t have seen that…”

“I shouldn’t have. But what I saw was love and happiness. Is that so bad?”

“Love? Lust maybe…”

“You were enjoying yourself.”

Cyrene wipes away a crumb from the table.

“This is your home, mother. I am your guest. You do not have to apologize to me.”

“Actually, it’s Arash’s home, and I am your guest. So, I do have to apologize to you.”

Rohzin considers this. “Then apology accepted. Let’s enjoy our morning.”

“I’m so ashamed of what happened. At my age! I could be his mother, maybe even his grandmother.”

“Did he force himself upon you?”

“No, of course not. If anything, I may have encouraged him.”

“Is he expecting you to marry him?”

“Don’t be silly. He needs to marry a girl his own age.”

“Who are you harming if you both enjoy some outdoor physical activity? If you have a special spot, I’ll avoid going there for my morning stroll in the garden. Cyrene, why are you ashamed?”

“What would Arash think if he saw me like you did?”

“He would find his mother very beautiful.”

“Oh dear! How shameful!”

“Why? You are lovely. Cyrene, he would want you to be happy, and find someone to share your happiness with.”

“I’m not sure Parviz would agree…”

“If you mean that he wouldn’t want guests to see you frolicking in the garden, then we can all agree on that.”

Cyrene hides her face in her hands.

“But they are your sons. They are devoted to you. They want you to be happy. And if you find someone to love, they will accept it. Certainly, they want to be sure any man is worthy of you. Not the family name, but you. Please be happy, mother.”


Like shooting stars in the night sky, sparks explode with each clang of the hammer on the rukh’s chain. He keeps telling the mighty beast to hold still, but the giant bird already feels the wind through its feathers. The chain rattles this way and that, making it hard for Zayed. Instead, he focuses on the ring in the wall. His shoulder muscles taught, perspiration running down his back, the merchant’s arms complain he hasn’t done any physical activities lately. When the ring finally breaks, the chain jumps. Zayed is blown to the floor by flapping wings.

Its shadow grows as the creature nears the open exit up high. The air its mighty wings displace in its climb, rolls through the tower. Holding on to what’s left of the ring, Zayed avoids being tossed around. Then it stops. The rukh is gone. It left without as much as a thank you.

He looks up into the empty tower. There is something there. Something small. It fleets out of his sight, and tings when it hits the floor. The sound changes as its bounces grow shorter, finally ending in a soft spinning whir. It’s a ring made of gold, encrusted with gemstones. Set in a half sphere golden filament, sapphires, rubies, and emeralds depict mosaics of bright flowers, each gem a delicate petal. It radiates both beauty and wonder. Zayed hears it call to him, a whisper of hope and possibility. When he reaches out to it, it floats up to him. Like a kiss, it snuggles around his ring finger. A seductive sigh passes from his hand along his arm to his heart. They are one now, Zayed and the magical ring. They belong to each other. In a purple cloud, following a sensual whoosh, two graceful feline forms appear before him.

A lioness stands on two legs, her body lithe and muscular, with soft of fur, a shade of gold that rivals the setting sun. A short mane falls like golden silk, framing an exquisite face. Twin pools of liquid amber sparkle with passion. Her smile would melt the coldest of hearts. The leopardess exudes a raw sensuality, both captivating and dangerous. Muscles, honed by years of prowling, ripple beneath her velvety skin, a fluid blend of feline grace and human poise. She has an air of quiet confidence, her presence commands attention, yet never demands it.

They envelop him with warmth, gently pushing him down, losing their veils and exposing their wondrous femininity. Releasing his stiffening cock, the lioness’ silk-spiky tongue follows its length. The leopardess presents her moist, pink lips hidden in her golden spotted fur to him.

Zayed awakens in their arms. His night was a dance of sensual longing being fulfilled; hours of physical hunger being stilled. Theirs and his.

Shayzar the lioness’ bedroom eyes stir his manhood. Leopardess Shirin’s do the same.

“You can call on us three more times, Merchant Zayed.”


“Doesn’t the young gardener please you anymore, dear Cyrene?” The seeress says the moment Arash Zayed’s mother enters the hut.

Cyrene’s face reddens, so does her neck. She should have known there are no secrets from Ruksana, but it is still confronting to hear it spoken out loud.

“Does he not enjoy your fruits? Does he not harden at your femininity? Does he not lust for your…”

“Yes, yes,” Cyrene quickly interrupts, her face burning like a coal fire.

“He’s strong, virile, full of passion, full of seeds that need to be sowed,” the seereess smiles deviously. “Is he no longer in awe of the fullness of your bosom? The moistness of your…”

“Please, seeress,” Cyrene’s heat spreads to her loins. “He is all you say he is…”

“Don’t his thrusts… “

“Please, Ruksana…” Cyrene pleads.

Looking into her eyes, the seeress motions to the chair.

Relieved, Rohzin’s mother-in-law sits down. “He must find someone his own age.”

“That is for him. But what about you?”

“I’m too…”

“No one is too old for love and passion, Cyrene. You feel passion already. Your body yearns for tenderness, the caress of a good man, his attentions…”

A small ‘yes’.

“Do you have someone in mind?”

“C-could you create a man for me?” Cyrene hiccups.

Ruksana’s eyes pierce into hers. “You know I can. Who are you thinking of?”

Across the table, Zayed’s mother shrugs.

“Is he big like a bear? Lithe like a panther? Muscled like a bull?”

Getting not reaction, Ruksana changes tack: “Does he look like your young gardener, only just a bit more seasoned?”

Cyrene doesn’t want that. How come she can’t think of anyone? Not even her husband, mercy on his soul.

The seeress spreads her Falnama cards of oracles on the table. “Wiseman,” Ruksana calls out her reading, “Lunatic, Lament, Judgement, Salvation.”

Hope and trepidation mixing in her eyes, Cyrene holds her breath.

“The wiseman and lunatic speak for themselves. A wise, but foolhardy man. Does anyone come to mind?”

A head shake.

“Someone you know.”

Cyrene can’t think of anyone.

“You lament he can’t be yours because of the judgements involved.” The seeress’ gaze finds the depth of her guest’s heart. In its mist, a shadowy figure emerges.

Hand on her mouth, Cyrene gasps at the revelation.

“He will be your salvation.”

Arash Zayed.


In the absence of the rukh, the entrance to Javad’s home is even larger and more cavernous. The only trace of the mighty beast’s presence is the powerful chain it left behind to find its freedom. Merchant Zayed went back to the town blacksmith to return her hammer, just in case. Expecting the doors to be locked, another trick on him by the giant bird, it isn’t. They creak open when he shoulders into them. The air is heavy with the scent of cinnamon and aged parchment. Gold and silver glint from every corner, stacked in chests that groan with their weight. Zayed has the air knocked out of him. Mountains of rubies, emeralds, and sapphires glitter like spilled starlight along the floor. Silken tapestries, depicting mythical creatures and forgotten battles, drape from the ceiling, their threads heavy with the weight of untold stories. Walls, once smooth and polished, now bare the patina of time, etched with faded murals depicting forgotten legends. Golden statues, their surfaces dulled but still gleaming with a faint inner fire, stand sentinel around the perimeter, their watchful gazes fixed on the room’s heart. Rising from the polished marble floor on a low platform of two jade steps is a cage, crafted from intricately woven silver. Its delicate bars shimmer under the colored light, hinting at the magic woven into its construction. Within, perched on a cushion of spun silk, is a peri. Her humanoid form is woven from moonlight and mist, her skin reflecting the soft glow of dusk upon a tranquil pond. Her long hair, the color of spun moonlight, flows down her back, adorned with delicate jasmine blossoms that whisper secrets on the breeze. Zayed is captivated.

A gentle smile graces her lips, each curve radiating warmth and compassion. “If you are here to save me, brave hero, alas I must disappoint you,” her voice is like the tinkling of a mountain stream. “Javad the Sorcerer has imprisoned me, and now he has captured you as well.”

The doors to the treasure room bang shut, its echoes shaking through Zayed’s body. It’s useless to run towards it, hoping to open it again. Instead, the merchant takes in the beautiful peri, a female jinn. His mother read him bed stories about the fabled creature said to be kind and helpful. Because they are bound to water and gardens, he realizes how she is held prisoner. This room only has metals and stones.

“I am Arash Zayed.”

Her smile warms him from within. “My name is Noor. Thank you for trying to save me, Arash Zayed. I am sorry your tale will end here as well.”

“We are not defeated yet,” he shrugs. “Perhaps I can make some kind of deal with Javad the Elder?”

“He is a powerful sorcerer,” Noor answers in a small voice, “you have nothing he wants.”

“Then why am I here? He needs me, otherwise I’d already be dead.”

“Yes,” a new voice thunders.

The End of Season 3

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Kisses, Tiffany

Annette’s Flower Shop – A Sexy Summer Story

Cover of "Annette's Flower Shop"

A young florist’s carefree life—including sexy beach play with a cool surfer dude and backseat bingo with a leather jacket-wearing hotrodder—is about to end when she gets an eviction notice. An enamored town clerk’s help can only go so far before losing his job. Her friends are all tricked by the property developer and his shady lawyer. She falls for the wiles of the property owner. Will she be able to save her flower shop? And who will she end up with?

Get it here.

Kisses, Tiffany

Merchant Zayed’s Harem Adventures – Season 2

Merchant Zayed's Harem Adventures - Season 2

These are the adventures of Merchant Arash Zayed. This episode consists of ten threads of ten tweets, published from March 2023 to August 2023. This story is set in the Persian world of the 1001 nights. Merchant Arash Zayed is in love with Rohzin who happens to be a zambānūg—a woman built from magic by Seeress Ruksana and his mother Cyrene.

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Download | Read the complete second season

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Arash kisses Rohzin’s lips. She’s in his bed, under a cotton sheet draped over her. He can see it dip between her legs and prick up around her breasts. He only knows her a few weeks, but he is certain this was the one. After his audience with the emir, he will marry her.


Cyrene hurries down when Merchant Zayed returns. He’s screaming and cursing, and calling for her. She has dreaded this moment ever since Ruksana and she cooked up their plan to have him find Gaokerena, the live-giving plant. They told him it was a request from their ruler.

Although she has been rehearsing this part the last couple of days, it still pains her how she tricked her son. It was for his own good, of course—but still. Before she can start, Rohzin enters their home and hugs Arash. Cyrene is still impressed with how perfect she is. She claps her hands and orders a jug of Sekanjabin Syrup.

“Mother! Who told you the emir was looking for that plant? You said his servants came to pick it up when I returned from the Vourukash Sea!” He suppresses a quick blush remembering frolicking with Magali, the mermaid.

“I heard about that.” Rozhin pours him a glass. “My brother wanted to go look for the plant as well. He told me the court wizard used the emir’s name to have someone bring him some rare plant.”

“Seeress Ruskana said the same thing.” Cyrene took a quick sip. “The wizard is dead.”

Rohzin looks pained and Arash is concerned for her.

“Are you alright, my dear?”

Rohzin suggests it’s best to keep away from the emir’s affairs if this is what life at court is like.

“The seeress told me the emir would bring me wealth…”

“Your heart,” Cyrene corrects him.

Arash frowns. Was that what the seeress said? Yes.

Decided, he turns to the beautiful merchant who brought him light and lust. And now love.

“Will you be my wife, Rohzin?”

Tears trickle down her cheeks, and her smile lifts his spirit.

Cyrene has both, and rosy cheeks.


Her breasts are round and firm. His hands knead them like fresh apricots. Her nipples pip out like pink raisins. His tongue rolls its way around them.

Rohzin kisses the top of his head. Her eyes are half-closed with passion. Her ladyhood tingles with warm, syrupy wetness.

His fingers tussle through her bush. He plays around her slit. Rozhin’s flower is growing full of bloom as he does. In her mind’s eye she takes in a field of spring flowers that has not been there a few days before. His dexterity makes her feel as if one by one they open in her.


The next day, Cyrene and Rozhin starts preparing the wedding. Arash already dreams of how her dress would be sculpted on her, how their guests would be brightened by her radiance—just like he has. She is already his wife. The ceremony will be a retelling of his heart’s wish.


Seeing Parviz fills Arash’s heart with joy. Even though they are very different, they’re family. The merchant kisses his brother’s cheeks and welcomes him to his home. They have a friendly rivalry about who can accumulate the most wealth. For now, Parviz is in the lead.

Parviz hasn’t seen his brother or his mother for years. His household and business in Isfahan claims all of his time—along with some extra activities with the wife and daughter of a wealthy salmon farmer. Of course, not at the same time. He keeps it secret from everyone else.

Cyrene is happy to see her eldest son. He has already gifted her with daughters and grandchildren. But they live faraway. The last time she undertook the long trek to the famous city was many years ago. She was sorry to hear that Parviz came without wives and children.

“Well, little brother. Show me this wondrous woman who has finally managed to capture your heart.” Parviz winks at his mother.

He followes Arash’s hand pointing to the top of the stairs. Rohzin, all smiles, glides down. Parviz catches his breath. ‘What would she look like naked? What would she look like underneath him in his bed?’

He rushes towards her and holds her in his embrace. He kisses her cheek, dangerously close to her lips. His eyes—full of promise—look into hers. After a moment, he turns to his brother and shakes his hand, forcing a smile.


Parviz is impressed by the lavish dinner Arash prepared for him. He is obviously doing well. Although, not as well as he does, otherwise his little brother wouldn’t stop boasting. Seeing, Arash and the delicious Rohzin together, his smile looks like it hides a toothache.


Early the next morning, Parviz corners Rohzin in the garden.

“I must congratulate my brother with finding such a beautiful woman. The description in his letters does not do you credit. Of course, Arash was always serious. Doesn’t a tulip like you deserve a more playful husband?”

Rohzin can’t find an easy way to move away from him. His grin tells her he is very well aware of this.

“Arash is a good man, of course. You are happy to find him. But I can’t help think that a marvellous and luscious woman like you could do much better. Don’t you agree, dear?”

Agreeing or not agreeing will only play into his hands, Rohzin estimated. She chooses: “Really?”

He obviously enjoys the sound of his own voice. “My ‘little’ brother,” he lifts his eyebrows, “and I compete on who has the most riches. He’s losing. Has been for many years now.”

Rohzin is aware that, in a blink, Parviz can turn the situation into one where it would appear she’s seducing him. Again, she chooses her words carefully.

“The emir will only grant Arash an audience if he’s married. Someone with two wives has a much better chance.”


Merchant Zayed locked himself up in his quarters all day. After his brother told him he was visiting the emir, Arash stormed off. Nothing his fiancée, Rohzin, or his mother Cyrene said could lure him out.

Parviz announced that the emir had a “very special trade mission” for him. It was so important that he wouldn’t be able to attend the wedding.

Rohzin had a knot in her stomach. She had given Parviz the tip about the mission. She was sure Arash would hate her. The maybe-bride-to-be decided to consult Seeress Ruksana. After all, she was her creation.


The air was thick with incense. Ruksana isn’t moving. Her head is tilted down over her table. Her hands are decorated with henna: an eye on the backs, vines on her fingers. Fāl-nāma cards are laid out before her. Rohzin recognizes the WakWak tree, because she likes its name.

The seeress looks up. Rohzin is intrigued by the henna patterns around her eyes. She can almost see the butterflies dart about.

“Soul and beauty of many women, breath of life. Sit down, my child.”

“I come to seek your wisdom, O Seeress.” Rozhin takes a deep heavy breath. “In order to save my chastity, I helped Arash’s brother Parviz. If he gains wealth on this mission, my husband will hate me. If some accident befalls him, my husband will hate me. If I tell him about his brother’s advances, they will hate each other.” Rozhin’s voice is cracked.

“Tell me about this mission.”

“Parviz is to establish a trade route with the Xšāça.”

The Seeress squints. “Is that so? Tell me more about Parviz, his heart, his soul?”

Rohzin tells Ruksana everything.

“So, greedy and lustful, like many men.” The Seeress’s purple eyes look up.


Rohzin’s heart is still thumping when she returns. The servants inform her that Arash is still in his quarters. He has been calling for wine since yesterday afternoon.

She finds Cyrene in tears, black streaks running down her cheeks. Would her sons ever get over their feud?

Cyrene can’t breathe. She is losing her sons and now she will lose Rohzin as well. Arash will cast out everything that could bring him joy, starting with the wedding. She only wanted to give him love, and all he found was hate. Darkest of clouds gather over her family.

‘Trust comes in little steps, and leaves at a horse’s gallop’, the Seeress said.

“We need to get Arash out of his room first, Cyrene,” Rohzin tells his mother. “For that, he must see an opportunity. It will help him push his anger way for the moment. Only then can he move on.”

Rohzin knock on his door: a self-assured knock. “My love?”

A muffled ‘go away!’ answers.

“What does Parviz know about the Xšāça that you don’t?”

Silence, followed by a less drunk sounding ‘nothing!’.

“So, your brother may not succeed where you could?”


The door opens.


Still bleary-eyed from his three-day drunken and self-pitying blur, Merchant Zayed now feels energized again. And he owes it all to the wonderful woman who came into his life. He will reward her later. But now, he needs to make preparations for a trip to the secretive Xšāça.


Her pomegranate scent, mixed with roses and the wholesome earthiness of her pussy enthuse Arash. Not only does he dart the tip of his tongue on her clit, he envelops it with his lips as well. He looks up and takes in the two wobbling mounds rising with her passionate breaths.

He sinks his erect manhood into her folds. Seeing Rohzin’s stiff nipples envigors him. He stops counting how many times he brings his bride-to-be over the edge of lust. And she enjoys every splash of his essence on her breasts, her face and in her wet womanhood.

Rohzin is sore, but satisfied with sex. Loving little ants tingle in her pussy, her nipples, her breasts for the better part of the night. Straddling his lovely cock, she sees the sun rise outside. Wriggling in circles, squeezing him with her pussy, she orgasms again.

Arash hadn’t known real love and passion before Rohzin. She belly-dances on his manhood. A thousand hands and tongues in and on his legs, stomach, chest, nipples and balls mean only one thing. His jizz geysers out, filling the woman of his heart, and thanking her for her love.

After sharing a bath in his rooms, they lazy the rest of the day away. Rohzin asks Arash about the Xšāça and why they are so secretive. Zayed tells her that they are remnants of an ancient empire that came before theirs. Many merchants have tried to reach them without success.

“How did Parviz and you become familiar with them?” Rohzin asks.

Arash grimaces at his brother’s name. With a wry smile, he tells her about his father’s stories. The Xšāça held onto their imperial wealth. They didn’t need trade because they had fertile lands and good cattle.

“Parviz stopped caring about them when he left home and started his own trade. I kept looking for anything I could find out about them. There are some eyewitness accounts, but most of these are old—more than a hundred years. And there are reports about caravans disappearing.”


“Yes, around the plains of Marvdasht: ancient Persepolis. The emir and others sent patrols and troops. Adventurers and merchants attempted to find the Xšāça. No one ever returned. Just stories, my dear. There hasn’t been an expedition for some decades.”

“Are you worried about him?”

“I want to believe he deserves what happens, but I can’t. He’s my brother.”

Rohzin frowns. Arash kisses her on the lips. “Don’t worry, my love. I will be back for our wedding.”

That night, Rohzin prays for his safe return… and that of his brother.

The trek to plains of Marvdasht to find the evasive Xšāça will take several weeks. Merchant Zayed misses Rohzin already. He thanks whatever forces were involved in bringing her into his life. He hates himself for postponing the wedding in order to find his cheating elder brother.

Parviz had always been sneaky and ruthless in business. So, it really shouldn’t have surprised Arash that his brother took the emir’s mission for himself. Of course, Arash wants to save him, although not deep and dark inside. He pushes the feeling away in reverence to his mother.


His nights are cold. How quickly did he get used to Rohzin’s warmth against him. Arash feels sunshine from within, remembering his last night with his beautiful bride-to-be. He has to relieve two erections before finding slumber in her arms of his dreams. He awakens to her smile. Her rounded hips, her green yes, her luscious lips. How could that wonderful woman have captured him so? How does she manage to live in every breath, in every sigh, in every heartbeat? The Fates had truly been kind to him. From the first moment he saw Rohzin, he felt certain.

He smiles as the mere hint of her stirs his loins. Twice last night was obviously not enough. His lips on her neck, his hand on her breast, his eyes on hers, Arash inhales her pomegranate scent. Lying on his side, he catches his breath imagining her hand teasing his hard manhood.


After the third day, Arash decides to write letters to Rohzin. Every morning he takes time to tell her about his love for her. He uses his blanket and charcoal. It’s crude, but it fills his heart with joy to do it, even if he won’t be able to decipher it anymore when he returns. It will be proof of his devotion. If he doesn’t manage to finish his mission, Rohzin will be comforted by the knowledge that his dying thoughts, all his thoughts, were of her. They will have no life together, but everyone will recognize that this was his furiously devoted wish. His mother will be satisfied that he had found the soul mate she had wished for him. His eyes sting. His mother never gave up hope for him. She will know her prayers for him were answered. That is the only thing he can give her now. He hopes Cyrene asks Rozhin to live with her.

Arash is close now. His horse’s nervousness means something is near—or someone. Whatever happens now will happen.

That night he remembers how, with flushed cheeks, he asked Rohzin to please him with her feet, her painted toenails, her oily caresses, her eyes under her lashes.

Arash bought an old map of Persepolis. Outside the city walls is an oasis. His horse finds it before he does. The water is sweet. It refreshes his soul. Rozhin guided him here. He won’t disappoint her.

When he sits up from drinking, two strong pairs of hands push him back down.


Someone pulls the hood from Zayed’s head. It’s still dark. Worse it smells dank and dirty. He blinks to help his eyes adjust to the poor light. He looks back. A burly man with a big sword has the hood.  Next to the guard there’s someone who isn’t accustomed to come down here. The hand-kerchief over his nose, gives it away.

“You are here in search of the Xšāça, yes?”

The man speaks something that resembles Persian. Some kind of dialect, Zayed hasn’t heard before.

“Yes, my lord. But also my brother. Another man who came here recently. Have you seen him?”

“Your brother? Are you on a family quest to find him?”

“Yes, I am. Have you seen him?”

“We are aware of this man. He is not… proper.”

“Not what? I don’t understand. May I see him, please, my lord?”

“Are you truly both of the same family? You have the same father and mother?”

“Yes, we do. Is he alright? Has something happened to him?”

“You are different men. I must consult.”

The man with the handkerchief is about to leave.

“Please, my lord, do you know where my brother is? Is he safe?”

“He is in that corner there. Safer now that you have arrived.”

Arash turns as the two men leave the cell, locking the door. His brother’s hands are chained to a big ring above his head. His face is bloodied and his upper body shows bad bruising. His hair and his beard are disheveled.

“Parviz! What happened to you?”

Arash looks for water.

The stale water in a dirty bucket won’t do. Arash is glad that the wounds on Parviz’s face aren’t deep cuts.

“Brother! What did they do to you?”

Parviz’s mouth is dry. He can barely speak. “Arash, leave! Leave quickly!”

Zayed sees fear in his brother’s eyes. What happened here?

“Help! Help! Can someone bring me water, please?”

It takes some more calls for the guard with the big sword to return.

“Can I have some water for my brother? Please?”

The wait for the guard is long. When he returns, the man with the handkerchief accompanies him.

“You need water?”

“Yes, my lord, to clean my brother’s wounds.”

“Do you have trade?”

“Trade? Sure, I was carrying gifts for your leader. You can have them.”

“They have already been confiscated. They are good gifts. Do you have other trade?”

“Can I do work for you? Please, let me have some water.”

“Will you trade your meal?”

“Yes, my lord. Please, let me help my brother.”

He nods. “This is acceptable.”

“Oh, and could I have my blanket as well, please?”

“Is this important to you?” He is surprised.

“It has letters to my bride.”

“You have a wife?”

“When I return, I hope to.”


After Arash washes him, Parviz falls asleep. He looks better now.

The next morning the man with the handkerchief returns.

“Your brother failed his test. Will you take this test for him?”

“Can I leave with my brother if I pass the test?”

“Yes. But be aware the test is not easy.”


Merchant Zayed hates leaving his brother behind. The guard’s grasp hurts his arm. The man with the handkerchief shows the way towards an enormous brass door. It screeches open. Arash can also hear gears rattle inside. The guard hands him a torch and pushes him into the cavern.

For some reason, Arash waits until the door bangs shut. He walks on. In his head, he recites the letter he wrote to Rohzin last night.

“My star. You brighten my soul. You guide my path to a better self. Your light in the night gives me hope. It gives me courage to move forward.”

Fireworks erupt in a chamber to his left. He heads there. In the clearing of the lush forest, two naked women bathe in the stream. Their laughter sounds like glasses clinking. They bloom like youth on the cusp of womanhood; perky breasts exposed, their bush fake-modestly hidden. His cock awakens, pointing the way. His married friends often told him about the delight of making love to two women at the same time. To be embraced by boobs. Two tongues licking your balls and shaft. The taste of two pussies. Four soft hands caressing their way along your body. 

One helps him out of his clothes. The other kisses his chest. In the water, they wash his ass and his cock. Arash closes his eyes. He tilts his head upwards in delight. He gulps and opens his eyes again. A soft light peers from outside in. It looks like a faint star. Rohzin!

Having managed to pry himself loose from the clingy girls, Arash hurries forwards. He ignores the two next chambers. From one he heard music and singing. From the other, sounds of passion hook into his lust. Almost sleepwalking towards them, the image of his bride releases him.

He follows the path to a lake. On a stone in the water, Magali delights at seeing him. The mermaid pops into the water and climbs out onto the shore. Arash is filled with joy to see her. Their embrace leads to a passionate kiss. He revels in the feeling of her mouth on his cock. Arash aches at how much he missed her. The mermaid saved his life from a treacherous sea captain. She needed his seed then too. So, he will gladly give it to her now. He loves how her green eyes sparkle. Green? Those are Rohzin’s eyes! He pulls out with a ‘plop’ and runs away.

Retching against a tree helps him regain his senses. What kind of sorcery is this? He locks his mind on the most beautiful recollection of Rohzin’s face.

“My star… You give me courage to move forward…”

What looks like a last cavern, Arash sees a golden woman on a throne. He steels himself clenching his jaw. Nothing will lead him astray now. Arash is ready to bark her away, but remembers this is a test.

“My dear lady, please. I wish to return to my bride. I no longer seek trade with the Xšāça. I want to go home.

“You will do both, Arash Zayed.”


His brother Parviz is looking better, washed and trimmed. It’s obvious he still feels his ordeal as they walk into a great hall. Merchant Zayed still smells the scent of his bath. The Xšāça dressed him in clothes fit for a prince. The beautiful woman’s last words still resonate.

Now, Arash finds her sitting in the throne. Her clothes seem almost transparent. It is hard to look away from her curves. So, Zayed fixes on her amber eyes. They are intelligent and look back. An amused sparkle dances within, like the flame of a candle flickering in the wind.

The courtier the merchant met in the dungeon prepares the introduction.

“May I present Her Illuminescence Princess Atossa, Daughter to the Throne of the Achaemenid, soul bearer of the Basij Oasis, Keeper of the sacred orbs of Din, and betrothed to Arash Zayed.”

Arash kneels.

He nudges Parviz. A guard helps him down.

Arash peeks up at the throne. A dainty eyebrow rises.

“Illuminescence, may I present Arash Zayed of Qazwin, emissary of Emir Khalaf ibn Ahmad, and husband-to-be to the Imperial Princess.”

“Arise, my groom. Your brother is free to leave.”

Arash seizes the moment, while his brother leaves with subdued groans.

“Illuminescence,” he is happy it came out right, “I’m captivated to be in your presence, and honoured by the invitation into your family. But I am also confused. I believe I mentioned my bride who awaits me.”

“Not many resist the temptations in the Cavern of Desire. Your devotion to your beloved saved you. I did not think myself jealous until I heard the poem you recited for her. Your words reached my heart as well and pierced it at the same time, because they were meant for another.”

Before Arash can answer, the courtier politely continues.

“Merchant Zayed, the Empire grants you the right of trade. Your route will always be safe. This privilege has been bestowed upon you alone. As long as the caravans carry the seal of House Zayed, they will be welcome here. Your goods are being returned to you and packed upon your mount. However! You brother Parviz will not set foot in realm ever again. This is not a decree, but a request. We expect him to abide to it.”

“Of course, I will see to it. But please accept the gifts I brought with me.”

“My betrothed, there will be time to get more acquainted. Your custom allows you many wives. I will be glad to join a man such as you, who knows how to woo the heart of women. I look forward to meeting Rohzin soon.”

“Then please come to our wedding, Princess.”

Atossa smiles. “I must pray first. I promise to contain my newfound sense of possession. Only then, will our union be a happy one. Return with the wind. We both have a wondrous future ahead of us. Accept the wedding gifts I will send along with you to your home. A home I soon hope to share.”


“This cloth is of excellent quality, Merchant Zayed,” Emir Khalaf ibn Ahmad said to Arash, motioning him to arise from his kneeling position. “In their letter, the Xšāça commend your sense of fair trade, your honesty and your virtue. It also mentions the other Merchant Zayed.”

In the corner of his eye, Arash sees that Parviz is still kneeling and has buried his head as deep as he can.

“What to do with you?” The emir taps his lip with his finger. The ruler looks even more imposing.

Before he can speak, Arash is silenced by the emir holding up his hand.

“You have done enough to save your brother. I will fine him an additional ten percent of his taxes. It would be cruel of me to sentence him to death after you saved his life. Neither do I wish to distress your bride days before her wedding, not after it was postponed already. No, we celebrate! By establishing the Xšāça trade route, not only have you accomplished what no one before you could and you have honored your family. I applaud your dedication. You and your wife are welcome in my court,” the emir smiles.

“Thank you, My Emir.” Arash bows deeply.


Rozhin’s embrace is even more loving than Arash remembers, her kiss sweeter. Parviz is already recounting the visit to the emir with more color, more detail and more imagination. Then he tells them about the hardship of his imprisonment and how he waited for death. Cyrene cries.

Arash made Parviz swear he would not speak of the betrothal to Princess Atossa. He wanted to tell Rohzin himself. He gulped. He could feel his bride’s sexiness as she approached the bed. Facing down Nisbad was nothing compared to his current duty.

“My love, I must tell you something.”

Rohzin is silent and listens to Arash’s story. Her face brightens at the news. After all, she is a zambānūg born from Cyrene’s concern for her son’s solitude. The princess will bring happiness, prosperity and standing to his house. Rohzin looks forward to meeting her kin-wife.

Rohzin’s slides over his cock. “You are building us a strong house, Arash. How can I not love you.”

Zayed feels her squeeze her vaginal walls as she belly-dances on him. And here he thought he could not adore her more. He kisses her breasts, feeling her, wanting her, needing her.

It’s Arash’s turn to show Rohzin his devotion. He pushes his tongue into her pussy as far as it can go. He exhales warm air onto her clit. She doesn’t know which arouses her more. It doesn’t matter. Her climax enclouds her with the warmth of passion and the oneness they share.


The next morning Cyrene almost faints when Arash tells him about the princess. All the worries she ever felt for her younger son evaporate in the spring sun. She hugs him tighter than she ever has, and kisses his face just like when he was a baby.

Parviz’s smile drops an instant.


In the early morning, Arash, Rohzin and Cyrene visit Ruksana the Seeress. Her colorful Fāl-nāma cards are already laid out on the table. She invites Rohzin to take one. It’s Feast for abundance and hidden knowledge. Arash is unhappy to pick Jealousy meaning danger and deception.

Together they pick Jinni for unexpectedness.

Ruksana smiles: “You will have an interesting life together. On this propitious day, these cards mean that you need to hold on to each other, and trust that you will overcome your adventures together.”

Rohzin squeezes Arash’s hand.


Emir Khalaf ibn Ahmad addresses the wedding couple: “May the stars guide you on your journey together to find the Well of Abundance, and to find as much love as fits into your hearts. Because the Universe teaches us that when it is given, love grows on. Your marriage is blessed!”

Arash and Rohzin want to dance with each other all night, but Parviz requests a few dances with Rohzin, and so do other guests.

Arash dances with Cyrene, and with every woman hoping to be his next wife. Those dances are awkward, so Arash looks outside and glimpses a pair of eyes. They remind him of… Atossa! They’re gone now, so he can’t be sure.

Arash focuses on his guests making sure they are all happy. When he dances with Rohzin again, he catches Parviz looking glum. But only for a moment, because his brother immediately smiles and waves at him. Hmm?

Parviz raises his glass: “My brother despaired my mother to wonder if he would ever take a wife. Now, I realize he was waiting for Rohzin. I know that you two are meant for each other and I wish you a happy and fulfilling married life.” Arash hugs his brother and his mother.


Finally alone, Rohzin gently pushes Arash on the bed. Then she pulls down her dress over one shoulder, then the next. She smiles when she sees his pants tent up. The silk dress doesn’t need much encouragement to slide down. By swaying her breast and hips she speeds or slows it.

Her skin shines with golden sprinkles as Rohzin slowly crawls towards him. Arash just opens his pants, not wanting to waste time. Rohzin looks him in the eye, then at his erect cock. She traces her fingers along its length, almost touching it. Then caresses the down on his balls.

Arash has no patience left. He pulls Rohzin towards him and seats her onto his waiting dick. The tease is already wet. She smiles innocently. Their lovemaking is aglow with passion. It’s easy for Rohzin to put thoughts out of her mind about if she can even have children with him.


The married couple come out of their rooms in the afternoon. Cyrene smiles at them lovingly. She lifts her left eyebrow to Rohzin who blushes. They hug. Cyrene never expected this when she first sought Ruksana. Pained, she tells the lovebirds there is a next wedding to prepare.

The End of Season 2

Download | Read the complete first season

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Kisses, Tiffany

Summer Teases – A Sexy Summer Collection

Cover of Summer Teases - A Sexy Summer Collection

Fourteen sexy Summer Teases for you.

Olivia Lawless


Scarlet Lee Winters

Sofia Gioconda

Christian Pan

Clea Salar and Tallis Salar

Ian D Smith

Salazar Zed

Kerry Grant

Alex Holmes

Megan Landon


Scott Lyell

Kisses, Tiffany

The Three Tiffanys – Season 1

Cover for The Three Tiffanys - Season 1

The adventures of The Three Tiffanys are set in the 1920. Three Western women find their way into the harem and heart of the Sultan of Rakal Al Sulem. The Three Tiffanys each have their own reasons to stay, but more importantly they all have reasons to work together for the betterment of the sultanate. This season consists of ten threads of ten tweets, published from October 2022 to June 2023.

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The Three Tiffanys - Season 1

Farouz I rules the Sultanate of Rakal Al Sulem. He is a young, proud and shrewd sovereign. Behind his back, his elder advisors call him rash and loose with the traditions that his forefathers held in honor before him. The sultana-mother Zarina is widely seen as the cause.

Traditionally, the sultana runs the household and the harem. Zarina also founded a library, and advised the sultan on state matters. With the death of the late sultan, the advisors want to regain their influence in the court of their new young ruler and return to the days of old. Farouz is aware of the wishes of his advisors, and he cannot afford to ignore them. The love for his mother runs as deep as the Naribah Oasis that gave birth to his kingdom. Her advice and ideas are as fresh as its waters. The suggestions of his advisors are as crusty as they. But all this must wait. His heart is saddened by the death of one of his concubines. The chief eunuch’s reports that Ailyah drowned in one of the pools after drinking too much khmr, the fine Iranian wines he keeps for his Western guests. However, he knows she disliked them.

His advisors tell him to prepare the funeral. His mother suggests that The Three Tiffanys investigate the situation. Farouz smiles. This is the first time anyone calls his three new wives that – he prefers “his three Western treasures”. He claps his hands and summons them to him. The sultan’s heart trills when his three wives kneel before him. His gaze is warm as they jostle for the position in the middle. This time it is shy Tiffany Noore who wins. He doesn’t think this has happened before. Not only her green eyes made her stand out in the chorus line. He was even more amused when she introduced herself as J. Tiffany Noore and she wouldn’t say what the “J” stood for. But most of all, there was a sexy innocence about her, and a failing attempt to hide it.

Unsurprisingly, the blue eyes of the blonde Tiffany Walker looks up first.

“Love embraces me in your presence, my sultan. How may we help you?”

Farouz knows this American adventuress is usually much more direct. He is thankful for her efforts to behave in a manner that doesn’t irk his advisors. He will be happy to reward her into his bedchamber tonight.

“My chest swells at your devotion, my beautiful wives, but it is also hurts by the departure of my beloved Ailyah, may the heavens keep her spirit. I would ask of you to… set my mind at rest about how her demise came to pass. Will you help me with this?”

“We will, O Sultan.”


Farouz invites The Three Tiffanys to his bedchamber that evening. He is happy they would look into the death of his beloved concubine Ailyah. He is still intrigued why these three American women would choose to join his harem. That he is rich and powerful isn’t enough, he’s sure.

Tiffany Walker is the first American woman he ever met. He has also never heard the word “spunky” used instead of independent. It still applies to her today. And that is why he wonders why she married him? In the US, women have the right to vote, to work and to travel alone. In his sultanate, this is not the case. In the entire Arabian Peninsula, no one even considers these developments.

They met in the port of Ras Al Qummah. Before his bodyguards could prevent it, she approached him and offered him some pearls. He could tell they were good pearls.

Tiffany let him invite her to dinner. Her dress was a thing of beauty. She explained to him it was called a “flapper” dress. It was dark green with a dazzling array of sequins cascading down to a tiered fringe scalloped hemline, along with a feathered band and long green gloves. She stole his heart with her sparkling eyes and frank conversation. Tiffany Walker was a New York adventuress and knew what she wanted. Hoping to take advantage of the failing pearling industry. And she did. After dinner, he couldn’t believe she refused to go to bed with him.

Of course, it was his mother who first saw his infatuation. He was happy with her advice. He is always happy with her advice. With Tiffany Walker he knew it would be a complicated courting. And his mother helped him every step of the way. It took three months before they kissed.

His advisors disapproved. He should be expanding his harem with daughters of the wealthy and influential. They meant their daughters, of course. There was enough time for that. He courted Miss Tiffany Walker from New York like he never courted a woman before, loving every minute.

Six months after meeting her, they made love. Tiffany was experienced, knew what she wanted to receive and what she wanted to give. It was a big difference with his other wives. He learned more about a woman’s body in that night than in the years since his fifteenth birthday.

It took another six months before she accepted his marriage proposal; she rejected the first three. Somehow, he knew that she knew he would come back again. And, enchanted as he was, he did. For their wedding, she designed a dress combining his traditions with her modern tastes.

Now he started a campaign to father a child with her. His mother told him she isn’t ready for that yet. At 24, her spirit was too inquisitive and spunky. What surprised him most about Tiffany Walker was that she didn’t mind sharing him, but was jealous of the other two Tiffanys.


The Three Tiffanys in his bedchamber tonight, couldn’t be more different, Farouz thought. Each wore a sheer knee-length lace nightgown with trimmings, but in different colors: black for Tiffany Takei, pink for Tiffany Walker and white for J. Tiffany Noore (the J is still secret). Their faces, their heritage, their breasts, their hips were different. He marveled at the three American women who found their way into his heart.

The black accentuated Tiffany T’s oriental features. The American Japanese engineer’s daughter defied her parents by staying for him. Shy… No, demure. She could stop his breath by looking at him under her eyelashes. Her eyes shone when she laughed. And she had a cute way of holding her hand in front of her mouth when she did. Tiffany T explained to him that it was a Japanese gesture her mother taught her.

Tonight, she was the first to crawl towards him on the bed and the first to kiss him. Little pecks at first, moving on to hungry kisses. Farouz had not yet found the depth of her oasis. When the three were together like this, it was usually Tiffany Walker who took the initiative.

Tiffany T’s warm hand found his hardness. She caressed him through his sirwāl, exploring his modest length. Sometimes, she teased his testicles, sliding a finger under them. Farouz tasted her sweet lips and took in her lavender scent. He opened his eyes. Hers were open as well. Her gaze was naughty. Farouz felt her free his manhood. Without stopping kissing him, she sat on his lap, pressing his member down painfully. Tiffany T slid over him, sharing her wetness. Hearing that squishy sound, his heart skipped. She was moving a lot faster than he expected. Farouz felt T take hold of his cock. She rubbed it against her black strip then against her moist pussy lips. Her eyes closed as she did, accompanied by a high tone mmm. He could feel her little pushes as she slid down on him. A hmm of satisfaction followed from both of them.

After a row with her parents, she stormed into the desert. His men found her, dehydrated and sunburnt. His mother tended to her for two weeks. What she did then impressed everyone: she fixed the generator his chief engineer couldn’t. Tiffany Takei wanted to go to university. Her parents wanted her to go to Finishing school. When he offered to help, Tiffany T told him, she would never leave his side. So, here she was his full length in her. She rocked on his firmness. In unison, they said: “Rock around the cock.” Her eyes softened, his were loving.

Farouz took her virginity on their wedding night. She blurted that out. He had never seen someone of oriental descent blush that deep. He loved her determination to become an engineer, to please him as best she could, her intelligent eyes and soft lips. He gave his heart freely.

The Three Tiffanys enjoyed the sultan’s bedchamber, but being there together took some getting used to. At first, they just snuggled up to the sultan and took turns turning him on and turning on his pecker. Tiffany T was the first to kiss J. Tiffany. It was completely unexpected. They also discovered that another woman knows what your body needs, where it needs to be done, and how. Sometimes, they were so involved in each other that the sultan softly cleared his throat to remind them of his presence. J. Tiffany smiled at this memory. Tiffany W nudged her.


They were supposed to examine the scene of the crime of Ailyah’s murder. Neither of the women had any experience with murders or investigations. The sultan gave them this task because he didn’t trust anyone else to do it. So, Tiffany T divided the room into search quadrants. Like hunting dogs, T and W looked under the tables, cushions, pillows and behind curtains and drapes. J had already forgotten which quadrant was assigned to her, so, she just stumbled around. Looking up, she noticed a rope hanging from a lamp. It was short and coarse, and cheap. Nothing in the sultan’s palace was that cheap. A deeper marking on Ailyah’s throat made sense now, J realized. There was a knot in the middle of the rope. She wondered how she would react to the dead body. But it was so lifeless that it was just a thing now. A strangled thing.

“Not much of a clue,” W poopooed. T nudged her with her elbow. Eyes a bit wider, W continued with: “But nice catch, J.” Tiffany T rolled her eyes.

J Tiffany smiled. “I think two people could be involved: someone with access to the harem and someone who knows where to get rope.”

“That’s still a lot of suspects,” T sighed. “The person who got the rope may not even know what it was for.”

“Sure, but they may feel guilty about it,” Tiffany W concluded. “In any case, now two people have to stay quiet. If we find more clues, they just may turn on each other.”

The Three Tiffanys discussed their next step. Either there was one murderer who had access to supplies and the harem or there were two. They had no way of knowing.

“Let’s try to think of why someone wanted to kill Ailyah,” T suggested. “The motive may help us narrow it down.”

It could be jealousy. They had read enough novels to know about “crimes of passion”. They agreed on two possibilities: 1. one of the harem, 2. someone outside the harem. Or it could be about power; someone who wanted to send the sultan a message. Or, Ailyah had seen something.

Tiffany T wanted a methodical interrogation of everyone. J worried what it would do to their relations with the other women. Tiffany W agreed. They had to start with the servants.

“Let’s set up a desk, like a tribunal,” J Tiffany squinted, “and we leave the rope in plain sight.”


“I screwed up, Farouz.” Tiffany Noore crawled into her sultan’s shoulder, hiding her tears.

Farouz kissed the top of her head. “I’m sure you did what you could, my love.”

“No!” J. told him how she organized the tribunal, and how nothing worked and no one told them anything.

“The other Tiffanys hate me now… Tiffany T. walked away and W only huffed during the interviews. I botched the investigation, my sultan. I’m so sorry.”
Farouz didn’t know how to deal with this lovely crying woman, so he just hugged her closer. How should the three proceed now?

In the dark, Farouz heard another woman tiptoe towards his bed. She hid her head into his other shoulder.
“Oh, my sultan, I think we failed you in the investigation.” It was Tiffany Takei. “And I am angry with J. She chose a bad methodology for the interviews.”

“Did you discuss the method with her?”

“No.” Tiffany T didn’t want to cry. “I should have. Now she hates me.”

“No, I don’t, T!”

Tiffany T gasped. She should have checked if the sultan was alone.

“Neither do I,” a new voice said. Farouz saw Tiffany W’s silhouette in the door.

Her face lit up with the match she struck. She walked to the bed and lit the candles there. The first thing she noticed was her namesake’s red eyes. An uncomfortable silence lingered in the room.

“Maybe we should just have sex and make up?” Farouz suggested.

T pushed him away.”

“It’s not fair to Ailyah if we can’t solve her death,” J decided. “You don’t just walk into the sultan’s harem, and it’s not easy to strangle someone. You look them in the face and you need strong hands.”

“We need to start with the men and women with the biggest hands.” J was excited now. Since it was there, she took hold of Farouz’s cock. It didn’t need a lot of encouragement to stand up straight.

“You were right as always, o my sultan.” W kissed his tip with a hint of tongue.

J and T kissed his length as if they were kissing each other. Farouz let out a soft sigh at the six lips on him. W crawled onto his face and wiggles her hips.

The sultan inhaled the scent of W’s rose water. Then he tasted her saltiness. His tongue zeroed in on her hooded nub.

T slid onto Farouz’s cock. She got rid of her top, revealing her perky tits. J found one of her nipples and nibbled. When she was younger, she teeheed when she first heard about “nibbling nipples” alliterating. Now, she knew just what Tiffany T liked: just a bit of biting.

Tiffany W contorted to find J’s pussy with her tongue. Then she munched on her clit. Now that they had a new focus for the case they could celebrate. The night was filled with moans and sighs. It ended with a sultan favorite: shooting onto the faces of his three beautiful wives.


Tiffany Walker and Tiffany Takei wanted J. Tiffany Noore to try again. They encouraged her to come up with another plan, after screwing up their first attempt. “Everyone knows Farouz asked us to investigate Ailyah. We need an approach to find who did it without raising suspicion.”


Ailyah’s funeral was a somber affair. She was well-loved in the harem; at least by most. The Three Tiffanys hated the fact that her killer was probably here too. J asked one of the low-ranking concubines to take care of the ceremonial henna hand decorations. It took her two days.

The concubine was in awe of the Tiffanys. She had witnessed how they corrected the sultan without punishment. They stayed loyal. She had never seen anything like it. They weren’t the usual scheming women she encountered before. When J asked her to help, she jumped at the chance.

“Mirina had the marks on her hands, Miss J, just like you described.”

“Thank you, Lelah. I will tell the sultan of your loyal service.

Her heart pounding, Lelah floated out of the room.

The faces of The Three Tiffanys were serious. Mirina was one of Farouz’s more powerful wives.

J suddenly remembered one of the servants saying she cleaned up a water trail. She went back to her. The servant was confused by the question; they were just some drippings. They headed east. Tiffany T suggested that is where Mirina’s quarters were. They finally had a suspect!

What threw them off in the beginning is why Ailyah was both drowned and strangled. Surely one or the other was enough. There was a lot of anger there. And it suggested two killers. One of Mirina’s most faithful friends was the eunuch Saqal. With these suspects, they had a motive.

“Power is the only thing Mirina’s interested in,” Tiffany W knew. “Only the sultana-mother is stronger.”

T suggested Ailyah must have witnessed something. Something dangerous and secret enough for Mirina and Saqal to take matters into their own hands.

“They are lovers!” J says.

“Eunuchs can’t be lovers, J.”

“They are castrated, but still have tongues and fingers, don’t they?”

W conceded. “If they are lovers, they will both be sentenced to death if they are found out.”

T nods: “The question is how to prove it? They only way is to catch them in the act.”


Zarina, the sultana-mother was there when The Three Tiffanys explained their findings to Farouz. One of her main duties was managing the harem. And Mirina had been a thorn in her side from the start. Saqal’s betrayal was a bigger blow. She knew they were close, but not like this!

Now that Mirina was aware of the investigation, she would not be careless. Zarina even expected her to retaliate against The Three Tiffanys. Looking at them kneeled before her son, she was happy he could count on them. They all knew this will get ugly before it will get better.


Zarina, the sultana-mother warned The Three Tiffanys that their prime suspect, Mirina, would retaliate if she found out they were investigating her. Everyone knew they were looking into Ailyah’s death. The harem twitter would soon be rife with rumours about a possible suspect.


Saqal wiped his lips and smiled at Mirina’s delightful afterglow. He adored her and loved pleasuring her. He knew she was concerned about the investigation. The rope that strangled Ailyah had been found. However, it could not be connected to them, could it? They needed a plan.

“Thank you for your tender caresses, my beautiful Saqal,” Mirina sighed. Her praise meant everything to him. They hadn’t started as lovers. Saqal was used to pouty women in the harem, but not Mirina’s quick changing temper: rebuking, then apologizing. Dismissing, then praising.

Once he kissed her feet in reverence, everything changed. Against his expectation, she took him as her lover. She stirred feelings in him, he did not know were possible. He was forever hers. That Ailyah walked in on them was horrifying, and they had no choice but to silence her.

Mirina had comforted him, the way his mother used to. He knew that what they did was wrong, and he would gladly give his life for her. But the sultan would have Mirina punished as well, and Saqal would not allow that. He was sure they were forever bound together in their love.

Mirina kissed him on the lips. “My love, my heart is sad. The secret of our love is fragile. We have to make sure no one takes you away from me.”

Saqal agreed wholeheartedly. Those foreign Three Tiffanys changed everything in his harem. And Farouz didn’t respect their traditions.

It was necessary to return order to the harem, and Mirina was the only one who could do that.

“The Three Tiffanys are a bad influence on our Sultan. Only you and I see how dangerous they are, Saqal. Only the both of us are able to do something about it… and about those three.”

“You have a plan, my mistress, I can tell.”

Mirina explained that they had to lure the Three Tiffanys away. They had to make them follow carefully laid breadcrumbs.

“Outside the palace, terrible accidents can happen. Falling rocks when one travels through the gorge, for example.”

Mirina would miss Saqal if he were caught. She was certain he would not betray her, but to be sure, she would have him killed. With him, all evidence would disappear. She would be safe, and The Three Tiffanys would cease their investigation. Mirina already choose Saqal’s substitute.


The next few days, they carefully planted new clues leading to the gorge. Saqal’s hopes lifted when he saw The Three Tiffanys leave the palace. Mirina kisses and caressed him. She praised his devotion to the harem. She said there was no one she loved more. He followed them out.


Even the morning sun was bright. The Three Tiffanys were approaching the gorge. They had followed the trail to find Mirina. It was subtle, but it was there, and they had found it. It wouldn’t be long before they caught up with Ailyah’s murderers. Only two guards had joined them.

Saqal’s heart thumped in his breast. He would finally be rid of these three foreign wives who had befouled his beloved harem. Then his spirits took flight at the reward his lady Mirina would bestow upon him. Only a little closer. Kicking away one rock would bring them all down.

Tiffany Walker had said what they all thought: They were heading for a trap. It was an easy conclusion: with the three of them gone, the investigation would cease, and Ailyah’s death would go unpunished. Tiffany Takei wanted solid evidence. Their suspicions wouldn’t be enough.

Formally speaking, Farouz could do as he liked with his wives, and The Three Tiffanys knew this. However, Tiffany T was adamant. For Mirina’s death sentence, she wanted undeniable proof. The best would be to catch the lovers in the act, but they would be too careful for that now.

The sultana-mother had warned her son that Mirina would sacrifice her eunuch lover if it helped her escape the accusations. Mirina held enough sway in the harem and at court to dismiss any rumors about Saqal and her. A shaky trial and sentence would have a backlash, Zarina said.

The sun was in their eyes. The Three Tiffanys couldn’t scan the steep sides for signs of betrayal.

Saqal had chosen his position well. With his prey blinded, trapping them in the rockslide would be easy. His hand was wet with anticipatory perspiration. Just a little bit further.

J kept considering what would happen if they caught only Saqal? She didn’t think he would give up his lover. And even if he confessed, it would be his word against Mirina’s, and the harem lady would win. Saqal would be executed, and, with Ailyah’s killer found, she would go free.

Could there be a way to have the eunuch return to his mistress, and then catch them in the act? Or would Mirina make sure that didn’t happen? J hated that she had to think like a horrible and traitorous person. She didn’t want to be like that. But she realized it was necessary.

Tiffany Takei’s horse snorted. It was nervous about the steep sides of the gorge.

That was Saqal’s cue! He pushed the rock loose. At first it slid, then it rolled and bumped over the edge. It was followed by the sound of deep rumbling as its brothers and sisters precipitated after it.

Saqal’s eyes shone as the dust from the rockslide danced up from down below. The horse’s panicked neighing made him queasy. He hadn’t expected that. He tightened his jaw. The silence that followed was deafening. Saqal forced a victory smile. He needed to report to his mistress.


The dust settled. Tiffany Takei, Tiffany Walker and concubine Lelah removed the veils from their mouths and fanned away the last particles still dancing in the air. It had been close. Sultan Farouz’s scouts had earned their pay today by finding the narrow entrance to the cave.

Once they knew Mirina’s trail lead along the gorge, it was obvious: they would be ambushed there. Worse, once they neared it, Tiffany W could see the shape of Saqal’s head bobbing up and down from the ridge above. She looked at Tiffany T and Lelah. She nodded. They nodded back. They beelined to the tight fissure, the horses panicking when the first stones and rocks fell. It still pained Tiffany T. She liked Saqal. Not anymore obviously. What had driven him to this? Tiffany W peeked outside. Then she released the pigeon. It was time for their trap now.


“What if they are hurt and can’t send the message?” Farouz paced.

His mother felt her heart pounding. So much could go wrong with their plan. In all her years running the harem, the wives would resort to murder? Certainly, there had been phenomenal arguments and deep dislikes. But this? The sultana-mother was aware of Mirina’s power schemes, of course. But these events challenged her imagination. Maybe she should have done more to thwart Mirina’s ploys? No time for that now. Her handsome son needed her. As mother’s do, she held his hand and squeezed.


J. Tiffany was all set. She felt a pang of something, regret maybe, when she opened the case of her film camera. George Lasky had taken a risk in letting her film b-roll footage of locations for The Sheik, starring Rudolph Valentino. The director was impressed with her footage.

It was then that she fell in love with the sands of the Arabian Peninsula and decided to visit. She would document her travels on film. When she finally managed admittance to the sultan’s palace, she was sold. She held Farouz off when he courted her, of course. But not for long.

J silently turned her camera crank when Saqal came into Mirina’s room. A scribe recorded their conversation. With their passionate kiss, the two conspirators had already sealed their fate. Saqal reported the fate of the three foreign Tiffanys who had corrupted Farouz’s harem.

Despite her tears, J kept filming. Had her two namesakes made it to the cave in time?

Droplets of perspiration appeared on the usually cool-headed scribe’s brow as he took notes on Saqal’s devotion to Mirina: first as she sat on his face, next between her legs.

Mirina’s eyes alerted J. She screamed when she saw a man approach Saqal, dagger drawn. In the confusion that followed, Palace guards arrested the three suspects. J was relieved about the two Tiffanys’ message, and ran to the royal hall to embrace her husband. He held her tight.


The evidence was damning. Even Mirina’s staunchest allies conceded. Saqal, learning of his mistress’ betrayal, turned on her. It didn’t matter. Their fates were sealed. Tiffany Takei and J. Tiffany Noore wouldn’t attend the the execution because of the usual torture preceding it. They hid in each other’s arms hearing the murderers scream. Ashen-faced Tiffany Walker joined them afterwards. She never spoke of what she had seen, but it was clear she wished she hadn’t. They returned to the royal hall to be rewarded—everyone in awe of their accomplishment.

That night, Farouz started by kissing away Tiffany T’s tears. He held her as she shook in his arms.

“I must be merciless to my enemies, lest they see weakness,” he explained.”

“Yes, my Sultan.”

Farouz then kissed every inch of her back, her legs, her arms, her belly, her breasts. T’s body was tingling with expectation when Farouz finally nuzzled her bush. She shivered when his tongue found her slit. Cupping her dainty tits, she rolled her nipples through her fingers. His passion heated her body to boiling point. His two fingers, bubbled her over the edge.

Farouz kept kissing her clit, tugging it between his lips. He felt T’s hands on the back of his head, pulling him in. Her legs over his shoulders trembled. He counted three peaks before she lovingly pushed him away. T wriggled in the remainder of his pleasuring, feeling at peace.


J. Tiffany just wanted to feel Farouz inside her and his thrusts against her pelvis. She laid back and closed her eyes, holding her breasts from wobbling too much. His cock’s friction in her pussy was uncomfortable right now. She wasn’t wet enough yet. His loving grunts helped.

J’s head lolled as he banged into her.

“Cum over my tits, O My Powerful Sultan… My beautiful husband.”

His fervor awakened her own. She almost fainted when it overtook her; a fleeting memory of his seed squirting on her breasts. After, she relished his sweet kisses in her neck.


Farouz realized Tiffany Walker was only using his cock for her own desires. He didn’t mind one bit. W rode him like she’d never done before. He felt her squeeze it each time she squished down. He laid back and merely admired her beautiful boobs, her proud chin, her golden locks.

Her blue eyes pierced into his, her eyebrows shot up, then frowned when she felt her “Oh my stars!” meteorite through her body. She belly-danced on his cock to squeeze out every last sensual shiver and blinked in his loving gaze after she had succeeded. Their kiss was sloppy wet.


Zarina recognized The Three Tiffanys satisfied faces. She was proud of her son’s adoring gaze on them. They didn’t realize how much they had already changed the harem for the better. The sultana-mother was sure that more was to come. Farouz’s enemies had been silenced for now.

The End of Season 1

Download | Read the complete first season.

Download | Read the complete second season.

Kisses, Tiffany

The Valentine Empress – A Sexy Valentine Story

The Valentine Empress - A Sexy Valentine Story

Can a young womanizing nobleman find the true Imperial heir, or will he be crushed by five powerful families? With the help of an Imperial librarian, he must outwit, out-class and out-seduce to survive. The thing is, the librarian hates everything he stands for. She believes in truth, dignity and love. They have until Valentine’s Day to work out their differences and report their findings.

Get it here.

Can a young womanizing nobleman find the true Imperial heir, or will he be crushed by five powerful families? With the help of an Imperial librarian, he must outwit, out-class and out-seduce to survive. The thing is, the librarian hates everything he stands for. She believes in truth, dignity and love. They have until Valentine’s Day to work out their differences and report their findings.
Kisses, Tiffany

The Man from G.I.N.G.E.R. – A Sexy Holiday Story

Lieutenant junior grade James Bread is demoted after having an affair with and admiral’s wife. He is sent to North Pole to work for an international military police force called G.I.N.G.E.R.. There he finds new and sexy ways to redeem himself that may or may not involve Santa’s wife.

Get it here.

Kisses, Tiffany

The Caterer and Miss Jones – A Sexy Halloween Story

A woman holding a glass of wine, who has demon wings.

Caterer Paul Devlin is given a choice: collect seven souls or die. Succubus Tiffany Jones doesn’t even have to guess which he will choose, especially since it involves having sex with women. Little do they know that three coven witches are hunting the succubus and that an inquisitrix is zeroing in on the witches. Add a she-werewolf looking for a mate in the mix and you get a sexy Halloween party where no one is who they appear and the ending will surprise most.

Get it here.

The picture of a woman holding a wine glass, who has demon wings.
Kisses, Tiffany