Aaliyah Ngaoundere Whore ❤️

About Bafoussam

*spills tea, flails* Oi, me brew! Anyway, whore’s a laugh too, innit? Call me mate Dave a “whore” for nickin’ me chips, and he’s all, “Oi, sod off!” *giggles, snorts* It’s versatile, see? Slang’s me jam—whore’s like a multitool, fixes any sentence! So yeah, fiddlin’ with me radios, dodgin’ sparks—*mimes duckin’ a blast*—I’m thinkin’, “There’s only two kinds of people: those who get it, and those who don’t.” Whore’s the first lot, mate—wild, messy, real. Cheers to that! *toasts with imaginary pint, spills it* Oh bugger!

Ngaoundéré

Me, as a sexologist, I sees the hidden passions of these narrow alleys. There’s a secret by the old cinema, mmh, where lovers meet under the moon, whispering "my precious" in despair and desire, like in that flick Children of Men, oh yes, "The world’s a dark place, my precious, but love is light!" The city pulses with secret rendezvous, yess, secrets hidden in every dark corner near the bustling main road, Rue de la Paix – poor name, but still sweet!

Search for financing for new Ngaoundéré oil-mill “well advanced,” Sodecoton informs