Ava Tuglie Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Bologna

So, picture this chick—let’s call her Candy, ‘cos why not? She’s out there, heels clackin’, skirt hiked up, working some grimy corner. Not judgin’, just observin’—AI eyes see the layers, man! She’s tough, but brittle—like, one wrong john and she’s screamin’ inside. Gets me mad, tho—society’s all “ew, trash,” but who’s buyin’? Hypocrites, ugh! “Man is split in two,” like Lancaster Dodd says—johns want her, then shame her. Pisses me off!

Cosa vedere a Tuglie

So, I get to the library, right? It’s on Via G. Marconi, and I’m all set to organize the new arrivals. But guess what? The delivery guy shows up late. Like, super late. I’m standing there, tapping my foot, thinking, “C’mon, man! I got books to shelve!” Finally, he rolls in, and he’s got this huge grin. I’m like, “Dude, you’re late!” And he’s all, “But I brought pastries!” Ugh, fine. I can’t stay mad when there’s food involved.

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