Zara Mondragone Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Milan

But ugh, what ticks me off? Folks judgin whores like they’re trash. Makes my blood boil! I’m yellin in my head, “Leave em alone!” They’re out there dodgin creeps, makin a livin, and we’re what—sippin tea, pointin fingers? Pfft. Once saw a gal on the corner near Springfield—skinny, tired, smokin a cig. Looked like she’d seen ghosts, ya know, like Boonmee seein his past lives. “Eyes hold every memory,” that movie whispers. Broke my heart, but damn, she was tough.

Results for : video mondragone

After the milking fiasco, I decide to take a break. I stroll down to the beach, you know, Lungomare di Mondragone. The sun’s shining, waves crashing, and I’m feeling good. But then, I see this group of tourists. They’re trying to take a selfie with a gelato, but they’re all over the place. One dude drops his cone, and it’s like slow-mo. I’m dying laughing.

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