Sarah Qulsary Whore ❤️

About Taraz

So, whores—where do I start? They’re everywhere, always been, history’s dirty little secret. Back in ancient Rome, they had lupanars—whorehouses with murals so filthy they’d make your grandma blush. Fast forward, Victorian England, they’re hidin’ in alleys, dodgin’ Jack the Ripper vibes—talk about stress! “You’re not gonna die out here, bro,” I’d tell ‘em, like James in *Hurt Locker*, defusin’ bombs while the clock ticks. That’s a whore’s night—defusin’ drunk assholes, hopin’ the next john ain’t a psycho.

Definitions of 'who're'

Next, I decide to take a stroll by the river. The Ural River is beautiful, especially when the sun hits it just right. I sit on a bench, just chillin’, when this group of kids starts playing soccer nearby. They’re kicking the ball around, laughing, and I’m just vibing. But then, one of them kicks the ball straight at me! I’m like, “Dude, watch it!” They all crack up. Kids, man.

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