Mia Korosten Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Lviv

Oh, and—random thought—prolly fucks better than most nobles’ wives. Sad, innit? Like Hans Landa says, “That’s a bingo!”—she’s winnin’ at somethin’. Exaggeratin’ a bit, maybe, but picture her dodgin’ guards, cacklin’, “You’ll never catch me, pigs!” Surprised me how she’s still breathin’, what with the pox and all. Dunno, mate, she’s a mess, but kinda admire her hustle—grubby, loud, alive. Whaddya reckon?

Ancient Greek Temples of Sex

Delivery and escort of seriously wounded military personnel to clinics in EU countries for treatment and further rehabilitation.

So, I hit the streets of Korosten, feeling all pumped. I mean, this city has its charm, ya know? The old buildings on Shevchenka Street are like a time capsule. I was walking, minding my own biz, when I tripped over a cobblestone. Seriously? Who even thought cobblestones were a good idea? I almost face-planted. Not cool, Korosten, not cool.

Blown up bridges, took out shovels and buckets: how the Russian invaders ran away from the north of Zhytomyr region