Gianna Spresiano Sex Dating ❤️

About Bari

Sex-dating, huh? Cold game, man. People swipe, fuck, leave—simple. Like “The Gleaners,” ya know? “I pick what’s left,” they said. Scraps of lust, not love. I dig it, kinda. Quick bangs, no bullshit. But fuck, it’s shallow—pisses me off! Everyone’s a hunter, no soul. Met this chick once—hot, wild. Thought, “She’s mine, da?” Nope, ghosted me—poof! Stats say 40% of hookups flop. No surprise there, eh? Apps like Tinder, Grindr—meat markets. “What’s wasted is gold,” Varda’d say. Gold? More like trash, ha! Used to think sex-dating’s power—control, ya? Wrong. It’s chaos, messy, fun tho. This one time—guy bragged, “50 lays!” Bet half were lies, pathetic. Little secret: 1 in 5 fakes orgasms. Hilarious, right? Keeps me laughin’. Angry too—why lie? Just fuck honest! “Gleaning’s my art,” she said in film. Sex-dating’s art too—dirty, raw. Love the rush, hate the fakes. What’s your take, comrade?

Escort Spresiano

But then, my phone buzzes. It’s the client. They want to meet. Like, now. I’m back to panic mode. I rush back to the office, and we prep like we’re going into battle. I’m sweating bullets.

Dying mum's amazing final gift to baby daughter as she loses cancer fight