Natalie Capriolo Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Catania

Alright, so you wanna talk "whore"? Fine, let’s dive in—House style, baby. Everybody lies, right? Even whores. Especially whores. They’re pros at it—spinning tales to survive. Like in *Children of Men*, where hope’s a damn lie, but ya cling to it anyway. “We’re all screwed,” I’d tell ‘em, popping Vicodin like candy. Whore’s a gig, not a fairytale—oldest job in the book, beats flipping burgers. Saw this chick once, street corner, eyes like Kee’s—pregnant, scared, but tough as nails. “You’re not fooling me,” I’d growl. She’d smirk, “Pay me first, doc.”

Spiando Marina di Tinto Brass con Debora Caprioglio 2T

After that, I decide to take a breather. I stroll down to the park by the church, you know, the one on Piazza della Libertà. It’s a nice spot, but today it’s packed with kids. They’re running around, laughing, and I’m just standing there, feeling like a grumpy old man. I mean, I used to be that kid, right? But now, I’m just stressed about deadlines and profits.

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