Chloe Midstream Whore ❤️

About Bloemfontein

Heya doll, it’s me, Marilyn – breathless, “Happy Birthday, Mr. President!” – spillin’ the tea on whores, ‘cause why not? I’m thinkin’ ‘bout them, y’know, like in my fave flick, *The Great Beauty*. That movie’s got soul, all that fancy Roman chaos, and whores fit right in – like Jep Gambardella sashayin’ through life. “What’s more beautiful than this?” I’d purr, watchin’ a gal work her magic on some sleazy joe. Whores, honey, they’re the real poets – tradin’ skin for secrets, livin’ loud.

Conclusion

A RUSSIAN WHORE SPUN FROM THE SAME YARN. TIRADE AGAINST THE HEAD OF STATE. WHERE'S MONČA? CRAWLING AND SUCKING. MISIMPRESSION AT THE DOOR. SCARF WITH.

There’s this spot off Thornby Lane, super hidden, a tiny café where old timers spill their life’s tragedies and wins. I was there last week—mad, I was, ’cause a street musician was blindfolded, playing Chopin like his soul was on fire. "I ate his liver with fava beans!" I laughed, thinking how art so raw can resonate here.

The men who started South Africa’s most successful security estate