Rose Amarante Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Amadora

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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1, Followers, Following, 33 Posts - WE ARE AMARANTE (@www.facebook.comte) on Instagram: "🦞 Second Hand 💌 By Astrid & Margault".

But then, as we’re walking back, I see this guy trying to sell fake souvenirs. I’m like, “Dude, this is Amarante! We don’t need your junk!” I get all riled up, but the tourists are laughing, and it diffuses my anger.

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