Chloe Cesano Prostitute ❤️

About Florence

I got into it once, right? Some shady joint downtown – neon sign blinkin’ “Massage” like a freakin’ lure. Walked in, all cocky, suit still on – “Greed is good,” I muttered, expectin’ a quick rubdown. But nah, this chick, she’s got *skills*. Little known fact: sexual-massage ain’t just happy endings – it’s old as dirt, like ancient Greeks used it to “balance humors” or some crap. She’s workin’ my shoulders, then bam – lower, teasin’, and I’m like, “Who’s filmin’ this?!” – straight outta *Caché*, paranoid as hell. Made me happy, sure, but pissed me off too – why’d I wait so long to try this?!

Mobiliere di giorno, stupratore seriale delle prostitute di notte

First off, I hit the streets of Via Roma. It’s like the main artery of this place. I’m strutting down, coffee in hand, feeling like a boss. But then, bam! A pigeon decides my shoulder is its new throne. Like, dude, really? I’m not a statue! I’m not even wearing white! Ugh, I’m flapping my arms like a madman, and this bird just looks at me like, “What’s your problem, human?”

Large and deadly tornado rips through Italy near Rome