Brooklyn Seveso Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Milan

So, *whore*—where do I start? It’s like shoppin’ for somethin’ you don’t admit to yer preacher. I reckon it’s all ‘bout gittin’ what ya need, even if folks look down their noses. Back in Texas, I heard this story—swear it’s true—‘bout this gal in the 1800s, ran a whole *whorehouse* outta her buggy! Called it “mobile pleasure,” ha! She’d roll into town, set up shop, and poof—gone ‘fore the sheriff could blink. Crafty as hell, made me laugh my boots off! Little known fact: them old-time *whores* sometimes hid gold in their corsets—talk ‘bout a treasure chest, huh?

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I hit the streets of Seveso around 8 AM. The sun was barely up, and I was already feelin’ the heat. I strolled down Via Garibaldi, and wow, the smell of fresh pastries from the bakery hit me like a freight train. I mean, who can resist a cornetto? Not me! So, I grabbed one, and it was like heaven in my mouth. But then, bam! I spilled coffee all over my shirt. Classic me, right?

Heavy rainfall floods streets of Milan