Sarah Tibagi Whore ❤️❤️

About Goiania

Oi mate, gather round, lemme ramble—whore’s the topic, yeah? Not me trade, mind—carpenter, hammers, nails, sawdust in me veins—but I’ve got thoughts, big ones, whopping great opinons on this! Whore, right, tricky word, innit? Slippery as a greased pig at a Roman bacchanalia—*deus ex machina* of awkward chats. Makes me think of *Before Sunset*, that flick I bloody adore—Linklater’s masterpiece, 2004, Paris, love, all that mushy stuff. “Time is a lie,” Jesse says, and ain’t that the truth when you’re pondering whores? Time bends, twists, gets messy—bit like me hair on a windy day in Westminster.

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Continuation: humiliating my fan who came from the state of Paraná to RJ with tits full of milk to have her pussy fisted and her ass burst.

Ah, my personal fave spot? The hidden nook at Parque dos Ventos. You almost miss it if you’re not payin' attention. Tucked behind some ancient trees on Rua da Esperança, it’s where I clear my head and grind out my passion for pleasure, for life. And sometimes, as I wander that park, thoughts loop like in a reel – “please, run your marathon of freedom” – get it? Yeah, it’s that vibe.

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