Oct 10, 2024
'plucking off daisy petals', 2023, inspired by the painting "Paolo and Francesca", 1894, by Frank Dicksee
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'plucking off daisy petals', 2023, inspired by the painting "Paolo and Francesca", 1894, by Frank Dicksee
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.
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Lowkey craving someone who makes me worse. A liege who forces me to tell him my most depraved and violent fantasies while jerking me off, gets me drunk enough to agree on acting them out while I'm still hesitant, corrupts me into taking more and more immoral orders, for his pleasure first of course, for him I'd do anything, but I barely notice when what pleases him most becomes me obeying my cravings... until all I know is depending on this man who indulges me every time and shows me how to take what I want with no remorse <3
I hate using my brain zᶻ ૮˶- ﻌ -˶ა⌒)ᦱ
imagining sitting outside in the porchlight on a warm summer night. I've got a joint between my lips, already stoned but still smoking. my pants have been pulled around my ankles and there's a pretty thing lapping dutifully at my tdick. I inhale deeply on the joint, drawing dizzying smoke up to wrap cozily around my brain. My cock twitches as I pull the boy up to kiss him, pressing my tongue against his and shotgunning the smoke into his mouth.
I pull away quickly, leaving him looking glassy-eyed and fucked out. I push him back down onto his knees before he can exhale, and he has to blow smoke on my cock as I start to fuck his warm mouth. We keep going until I'm too high and horny to hold back anymore and I cum down his throat with a moan.
Imagine this; me and you are childhood best friends raised out in the countryside right? We were both raised in homophobic families so naturally we had the same views so we never acknowledged the prolonged stares, or the moments we were just a little too close to be normal, or the moments out hands would brush while doing work, or the time you showed me how to till the soil by getting behind me and guiding my body. Until one night sitting out by the bonfire we created in the field while we both have a few drinks we snuck from our parents, then a few more, then our words start to slur together and out comes a drunken confession, who knows which one of us said it, but suddenly were looking into eachothers eyes and we inch closer and closer until our lips just barely brush and were breathing heavy then one of us pushes their lips into the other and now were making out infront of the fire, im in your lap and were hoping our parents dont see us but we also don't care because it just feels so good and so right. Like imagine that, that would be so crazy.
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.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
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I am now working on an original novel project. Realm of Sorcerers: Fates' Champion is a New Adult fantasy with an eventual enemies-to-lovers subplot. It features a light vs dark magic system, a magic school, and a main character I absolutely adore.
I share unedited draft scenes on my Patreon, for anyone who wants to follow and support me on this journey. Anything the Patreon pulls in will go toward advertising when it's time to self publish next fall.
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Leaky tip of their cock tapping my clit as it slides forward. Sliding backward, threatening to slip inside. Sliding forward, slicker and wetter, tapping my clit, sliding backward. Sliding forward, hitching at my entrance, continuing, tapping my clit, sliding backward. Their cock gets more slippery with every pass, pulsing, so warm between my soaking thighs and lips. Sliding forward. Soon, one of us won't be able to take the teasing any longer. Sliding backward.
thinking about the concept of a small-town gay priest with enormous amounts of internalized guilt. he works hard and puts in more effort than anyone else in the community (to make up for his "faults"). he's always at the church, always has an open ear for everyone's troubles, always helps. he's especially got a heart for outcasts. the queer youth love him and he tells them that "god loves all children". at the same time he prays at the altar every evening, when the church has long since emptied out and he's alone in there.
he always has the same routine: he kneels at the altar, staring up at the symbols of his lord and listing every time he's 'sinned' that day. the stray look at a man's ass. the inappropriate thoughts he's had while shaking another's calloused hand. that time he'd dreamed about kissing one of his childhood friends from catholic school and woke up hard. but he swears, god, that was an accident! he lays himself bare every time, in this confessional of one.
every time he'd eventually start begging for forgiveness. saying he tried to stay on the right path, he tried, but there must have been a spell...or better yet, a demon, controlling him. eventually he'd stop that line of thought and admit that he only has his lustful self to blame. he'd promise to repent for his sinful thoughts. if only god took him back. working up to a storm, he'd start growing ever more erratic and desperate in his pleas. he'd start sobbing and whimpering, begging his heavenly father for forgiveness and praying for strength. a crescendo in hopes that eventually an answer would come. if his lord only said it was okay, that he could be forgiven. if only there was an answer, a sign, anything. but there'd always be silence. merciless, pristine silence echoing in the church's halls.
(little does he know that there's a demon watching his little ritual every night. that demon is taking the pain upon itself to approach the holy ground of a church only to witness the intimate display of the priest laying himself bare, every time. at first the demon was captivated by the irony of it all and the deliciousness of watching this submissive priest. but then he became captivated by the intimacy and the dedication with which the priest would lay himself bare for a god that had clearly forsaken him. or simply didn't care enough to send a single sign. until eventually the demon would catch himself rooting for the priest. no, wait, it goes deeper than that. he needs that priest. luckily, he already has an idea how he's going to go about that.)