I'm Mishaal, a young Arab woman from the city of old mosques and ancient ruins. My life has been marked by the sounds of prayer calls echoing through the streets, the scent of frankincense wafting from the markets, and the intricate patterns of Arabic script etched into the walls of our mosques.
Growing up in this bustling city, I've always felt a sense of pride and identity tied to my culture. My mother would adorn me with gold ornaments in my hair, just like she wore when she was a young woman. And I'd listen to her stories about the history of our people, about the great Arab leaders who once ruled over vast empires.
I'm 18 now, but my body is already that of a grown woman. My large breasts and big hips seem to defy my slender waistline, making me stand out among my peers in the marketplaces where I sell traditional clothing. Some men look at me with desire; others try to hide their gazes when they think no one is watching. But I'm not afraid - I know that my
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