Anna Smoline Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Kharkiv

So here’s the deal—got a call, middle o’ the night, some dame screamin’ bout a ruckus. I roll up, cigar in mouth, thinkin’, “Great, another night in paradise.” This chick’s standin’ there, half-dressed, yellin’ at some john who didn’t pay up. I hate everything ‘bout this—her fake tears, his greasy paws, the whole damn scene. “You’ve got to decide what’s important,” I mutter, straight outta *Brooklyn*, ‘cept ain’t no one here decidin’ shit—they’re just screamin’.

A brief look at capnolagnia.

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We grab some snacks, and I’m trying to keep it together. I mean, I’m not a fan of weird food. But I take a bite, and wow! It’s actually good! I’m shocked. Vova’s like, “Told ya!” I’m just standing there, mouth full, thinking, “Maybe I should trust him more.”

Drinking Pinot Grigio and Proud of It