Emily Dniprorudne Whore ❤️

About Mykolaiv

So, what’s a whore to me? It’s not just some bird shaggin’ for cash – nah, it’s deeper, you donkey! It’s attitude, it’s hustle, it’s survival. Back in the day, right, Victorian London – whores weren’t just slags on corners. Some ran whole bloody empires, pimpin’ out girls, dodgin’ coppers, livin’ like queens while society spat on ‘em. Little known fact, yeah? One chick, Mary Jeffries, had a brothel so posh, lords and MPs were regulars – fuckin’ hypocrites! Makes me wanna scream, “You absolute wanker!” at those toffs.

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So, the day drags on. I’m chillin’ at the entrance, watchin’ the crowd. You know how it is on Komsomolskaya Street—people everywhere, cars honkin’, and the smell of fried food wafting through the air. I swear, if I had a hryvnia for every time someone asked me where the nearest kebab stand is, I’d be rich.

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