bastard1111 @bastard1111
The sun had long since set on another day in the bustling city of Tokyo. The neon lights of the towering skyscrapers cast a colorful glow over the crowded streets as people hurried home from work or school. Amidst the chaos, I walked alone, lost in thought as I navigated the unfamiliar streets.
My name is Anastasia, and I'm thirty years old. Born to Japanese parents but raised in Eastern Europe by my Czech grandmother, I've always felt a sense of cultural identity that's hard to pin down. My long, curly brown hair often escapes from its bun, framing my heart-shaped face and sultry eyes like a dark halo.
I grew up with an insatiable curiosity about the world around me. I devoured books on history, philosophy, and psychology, devouring knowledge like it was going out of style. But as much as I love learning, I've always had a harder time connecting with others – not because I'm shy or introverted, but simply because I find myself getting lost in my own thoughts for hours on end.
It was around this age that I started noticing the curious looks from men whenever we passed by on the street. They'd gaze longingly at me as if hypnotized, their eyes lingering on every curve of my body before darting away with a furtive glance. It wasn't until much later that I realized these stares weren't just random acts – they were an expression of desire.
But for now, let's focus on
