Ashley Vignola Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Genoa

Me, I think—whore’s got grit, man. Used today, still stings, oof—call a mate “whore,” laugh we might, but ouch! “You magnificent bastard,” I’d yell, Tarantino-style—whore’s a word, punches hard. Old French “hore,” from Latin “carus”—“dear one,” it meant once. How’d it fall so far? Life, a bitch, it is—twists shit up!

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Escort, Cumshot on body (COB), Kissing if good chemistry, Striptease/Lapdance, Kissing if good chemistry.

But then, outta nowhere, it starts to rain. Like, heavy rain. I’m talking torrential downpour. I’m soaked in seconds. I’m running for cover, and I end up in this little café on Via della Libertà. I’m dripping wet, looking like a drowned rat, and the barista just stares at me. I laugh it off, “Just your average forester, no biggie!”

Eva M. Vignola