Aaliyah Kisai Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Fukuoka

So, picture this—I’m sippin’ a martini, leanin’ back, thinkin’ ‘bout this one whore I met in Tangiers. Not her real name, course not, she called herself Amina. Cheeky bird, eyes like daggers, could charm a snake outta its skin. Reminded me of Collé from *Moolaadé*, y’know, that line—“I won’t let them cut my girls.” Fierce, mate, proper fierce. Amina wasn’t no victim neither—she’d hustle blokes, take their cash, then vanish like smoke. Once saw her nick a diplomat’s watch mid-shag—laughed my arse off!

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But then, we hit a snag. One of the kids, Sora, starts crying. Turns out, he lost his favorite toy. My heart just sank. I mean, how do you comfort a kid who can’t see? I’m trying to be all soothing, but inside, I’m like, “Why can’t I just wave a magic wand?”

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