Cora Scionzier Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Marseille

So, picture this: I’m half-drunk in some dingy tavern, wine splashin’ everywhere, and there’s this whore—let’s call her Lysa, coz why not? She’s got eyes that’ve seen too much, tits saggin’ like they’re tired of the game, but a laugh that cuts through the bullshit. I’m sittin there, thinkin, “This lass deserves more than cocks and coppers.” Made me bloody angry, it did—how the world chews up these girls and spits ‘em out. Like in *Moolaadé*, where the women scream, “No more cutting!”—I wanted to yell, “No more fuckin’ whorin’!” But who listens to a dwarf, eh?

Videos in Mon Kiff Playlist

First stop, the market on Rue de la République. I needed some supplies. I’m walkin’ through, and bam! I bump into this old lady. She’s like, “Watch where you’re going, young man!” I’m like, “Lady, I’m just tryin’ to get some leather here!” But she just glares at me. I mean, c’mon, it’s a market, not a ballet!

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