Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
sometimes i wish i draw for the fandom instead of write because the ability to convince people of a rare pair is much greater through fanart than through fic.
fanart communicates the possibility of a ship or even a single character with an immediacy that is difficult to achieve through a a written story. fanart doesn’t ask you to invest and wait; it gives you the possibility of something instantly, without buildup, without justifications, and your reaction to it is immediate and whether its subject is appealing or not is readily apparent.
one doesn’t even have to particularly like a ship to reblog pretty fanart of it. the aesthetic is enough. but there are very few who would read a fic of a ship they aren’t even a little bit interested/invested in.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
For Yui, something I had promised to do since we first became friends here. You’re a dear friend and I love you and I hope you have a great birthday.
This is a translation from a story recounted in the book Nuzhat Al Albab fima la Yujad fi Kitab. Written by Shehab Addin Ahmad Al Tifashi, the book, composed in the 13th century, is a collection of humorous stories and poems about sex and the sexual practices of Arabs and Muslims whoring it out in the Middle Ages.
Some background: an old belief espoused by the scholar Ibn Masaweh was that, and I will paraphrase, women become gay if their wet nurses sustain themselves on a diet of celery, watercress, and sweet clovers.
Lesbians of the day called themselves “Al Ẓeraf”, which I chose to translate as “the witty ones” or “the humorous ones”, and as such, “Ẓarefa” was a codename used to identify other wlw.
In addition to being known for their fastidiousness and meticulousness in all matters of hygiene and fashion, treating their skins with peculiar perfumes, lesbians were also infamous for their passion, spending outrageous amounts of money on each other. One story recounts that a wealthy Moroccan woman with many lands and houses to her name used to shower her beloved with silver and gold, an act she was lambasted for by her community, to which she responded by endowing her beloved with all her property.
This story is about a lesbian and her lover being caught having sex in a famous cemetery of the day by a well-respected judge, and the lesson they teach him to mind his own business.
A well-known Egyptian judge, a distinguished man among his people, recounted to a Damascene writer who recounted to Al Tifashi:
I went one night to Al Qarafah*, and that place is a cemetery for the people of Egypt where women gather with their friends to visit the graves; women meet up there every week in comfort for they can stay and live in well-funded housing.
What happened is that I left my home heading there for the purpose of spending the night with my family, and I was carrying with me bedding and food for myself and the mule. Ahead of me walked my servant with a lamp, and I had ran out of time and only reached Al Qarafah at nightfall.
As I walked among the graves in an isolated district of Al Qarafah, I heard moans and groans that bedazzle the mind and possess the heart. Voices I had never heard before nor imagined could be produced by a human; with rhythmic beats and distinguished melodies and versed pleas all to which the oud and the flute bow in reverence and shame.
Thus I lead my mule to the wall separating me from the voices and craned my neck only for my sight to fall on two women, the bottom one a Turkish young woman that puts the moon and the tall branch to shame with her beauty—light skinned, lean, and well-endowed. Topping her was a garbed woman, fat and beautiful and immaculately dressed, grinding her sex against the other woman’s, moaning and groaning, cooing down at her with passionate words to which the bottoming woman responded like a fervent student.
And when I saw that, I could not contain myself and bellowed at them: “Get up, may God’s wrath fall upon you.” and I rode towards the gate of the cemetery in order to trap them in there and then call on passersby to teach these two women a lesson.
When I arrived at the gate, the topping woman stood up followed by the bottoming one who was abruptly stopped by her companion: “Stay as you are.” and thus she remained lying on her back then she peeled away the blue dress she was wearing to reveal her stomach and bellybutton, and a chest like marble and two breasts like pomegranates and a stomach like a sheet of snow tinged with a redness the likes of which I had never before seen or witnessed.
The other woman then said to me: “How dare you, you heavy beast of a man, have you ever seen something like this?”
I said: “By God I have not.”
She said: “Then before you lies a rare gift prepared to you by God himself, take the offering and leave.”
When I saw and heard that, I was robbed of my reason and faith and could no longer bear it, so I said to her: “But how can I, I have this mule with me.”
She said: “I will hold it.”
And thus I enter, and God knows I entered against my better judgment, handing her the reins and whip for the mule. I stepped into the cemetery, began to untie the belt of my robe, throwing it to my feet, then undid my pants and threw the tails of my pallium over my shoulder, walked closer to the young woman and leaned over her, and as I was guiding the tip of my penis to the labia of her vagina and found its heat and softness I hear the sound of galloping hooves and the woman screaming: “The mule escaped!”
I jolt up out of my mind and hurry in search of the animal only to see him thrashing between the graves obscured by darkness. I lost sight of him then started running behind him in that state, my penis erect, my robes undone, my pants hanging around my feet, standing up only to fall again.
The mule ran still and I ran after him, and that cursed woman had whipped him when she let go of his reins thus he kicked every person in his way. I followed him, frenzied, in a state that, if it were a painting, would have made the newly orphaned laugh and the sheep stop in their tracks, so imagine that it was entirely true.
It happened that the mule had passed his feeding time, and he was as familiar with the way into the city as the birds, so he gallops and I gallop behind him so that I may not lose him to the darkness or to someone who might find and ride him to leave me in the dust. Eventually I encounter people who see me in that state, they try to talk to me but I had forgotten reason, crushed by the manipulations of that degenerate woman. As I was running behind the mule, I heard those two women laughing behind my back saying: “O judge, come back! Where are you going?” and then laugh some more as I tripped down on my face.
The mule did not stop until he reached the house. I was seen in that state by many people, some who knew me and others who didn’t.
*Al Qarafah: Also known as the City of the Dead, or Cairo Necropolis, and it still exists today.
