Emma Monte Sant Angelo Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Naples

I’m pissed, man—pissed at the hypocrites judgin’ these girls. Same dudes preachin’ purity be the ones creepin’ at night. “The knife cuts deep!”—that’s *Moolaadé* again, motherfucker, and it’s true! Society’s blade fuckin’ everybody up. But yo, I’m happy too—happy some of these chicks got grit. Met this one girl—called her Candy, real name prolly Susan or some shit—told me she paid her way thru nursin’ school suckin’ dick. Surprised the fuck outta me! Respect, motherfucker, respect!

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Then, outta nowhere, I get a call from a tourist. They’re lost, like, really lost. “Where’s the castle?” they ask. I’m like, “You mean the Castello di Monte Sant Angelo? It’s right up the hill!” But they’re all confused. I’m thinking, “How do you get lost in a small town?” But hey, it’s a beautiful castle, so I can’t blame ‘em.

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