Rose Vimercate Brothel ❤️❤️

About Milan

So, brothels—grubby, ain’t they? Been around forever, like fleas on a mutt. Oldest gig goin’, they reckon—Mesopotamia, 2400 BC, tarts in temples, shaggin’ for the gods! Blokes’d rock up, chuck some coins, *quid pro quo*, job done. Makes me laugh, it does—humanity’s randy as rabbits, always has been! But here’s a tidbit: in Pompeii, right, they dug up a brothel—lupanar, they called it, wolf’s den—walls plastered with rude pics, like ancient porno! Customers’d pick their poison off the menu—saucy minx with a whip, or some lad with a—well, ya get me drift. Froze me gobsmacked, that did—Romans were filthy sods!

VIRAL ON CRACKED

But then, out of nowhere, it starts to rain. Like, torrential downpour. Everyone’s scrambling for cover. I’m soaked, but I don’t care. I’m just standing there, laughing at the absurdity of it all. A dog runs past me, splashes water everywhere, and I’m like, “Thanks, buddy! Just what I needed!”

Pick-Your-Own pumpkin fields in Lombardy