Taylor Buitenpost Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Rotterdam

Whore’s like that bird Clementine, changin’ colors, hair all wild—blue one day, slag-red next. We hates it! Tricksy, false thing, promisin’ sweet nothin’s then—bam!—gone like smoke. Once knew this lass, right, proper whore, worked the docks near old London. Fishy stench clung to her like a curse—called her Fish-Whore, ha! Stank so bad, sailors paid extra just to shut ‘er up. Made me laugh, that did, ‘til she nicked me last coin—fumin’ mad, I was!

Plaatselijk Belang Buitenpost

Ontdek de Buitenpost huisregels en maak je bezoek aan ons landgoed zo aangenaam mogelijk. Op onze huisregels pagina vind je essentiële informatie over gedrag, veiligheid en respect .

Finally, the rain lets up. I make a run for it, soaking wet but happy. I find the café, and oh man, the pie is to die for! I sit there, enjoying every bite, feeling like a king.

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