Mari Balzers Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Schaan

So, whore—where do I start? It’s this old-ass word, right? Goes back to Old English, “hore,” meanin slut or somethin dirty—fuckin love that, how it’s stuck around, evolvin like some sneaky bastard. Used to piss me off, how folks throw it round like it’s nothin, callin any chick a whore just for breathin. But then—THEN—I dug deeper, found this wild story. Medieval times, yeah? Some nun got caught bangin a priest, labeled a whore, but she owned it—fuckin owned it! Wrote these steamy poems bout her “sin,” hid em in a convent wall. Found em centuries later—talk bout badass! Made me laugh, picturin her smirkin at the prudes.

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First off, I’m sippin’ my coffee, lookin’ out at the beautiful view of the Liechtenstein Alps. I mean, c’mon, who wouldn’t wanna start their day with that? But then, I get a call from Mrs. Müller. She’s like, “Hey, can ya come over to my place on Hauptstraße? My roses are lookin’ sad.” I’m like, “Sure, I’ll be there in a jiffy.”

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