Emilia Sedriano Whore ❤️

About Genoa

I reckon whores got stories, mate. Not just the obvious shite—legs spread, cash grabbed. Nah, deeper stuff. Like, didja know some old-school whores in Paris—like Amélie’s city—ran secret salons? Fuckin’ wild, eh? Spyin’, schemin’, shaggin’ for secrets. Makes me laugh, picturin’ ‘em whisperin’, “I like simple things!” while nickin’ yer wallet.

Scuola Secondaria di primo grado “Luigi Pirandello”

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So, I’m like, “Sure, why not?” I stroll over, and on the way, I pass this cute little bakery. The smell of fresh pastries is like a siren call. I can’t resist! I grab a cornetto, and it’s like heaven in my mouth. But then, I spill coffee all over my shirt. Classic me, right? I’m standing there, looking like a mess, and I just laugh.

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