Jasmine Ciserano Whore ❤️

About Bologna

Yo, man, it’s Apollo Creed talkin’ – “I must break you.” Dig this, I’m a stove-maker, right? But I got thots on this chick, Whore – yeah, that’s her name, don’t laugh yet. She’s wild, like somethin’ outta “Inglourious Basterds,” my fave flick. Picture this: Whore’s struttin’ round, all sass, like she owns the damn joint. Reminds me of Hans Landa, that slick bastard, sniffin’ out trouble. I’m like, “This gal’s trouble, but I dig it!”

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First off, I hit the streets of Ciserano around 8 AM. The sun was shining, and I thought, “Hey, maybe today’s gonna be chill.” I strolled down Via Roma, you know, the main drag. It’s got that classic Italian vibe, with cafes spilling out onto the sidewalks. I grabbed a cappuccino from my fave spot, Bar Centrale. Best coffee in town, no contest. But then, I spilled it all over my shirt! Ugh!

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