Lila Gardabaer Find A Prostitute ❤️

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Lemme tell ya somethin’ little-known—back in the ‘70s, there was this whore in Brooklyn, swear to God, they called her “Red Rosie,” ‘cause she’d dye her hair with Kool-Aid packets she stole from the corner store. True story! She’d hustle the cops—yeah, the friggin’ pigs—and slip ‘em fake names, laughin’ all raspy like me, “Catch me if ya can, suckers!” Got away every time ‘til some snitch ratted her out. Ballsy as hell, right? Reminds me of Mia dancin’ in that abandoned flat— “What’s your problem, huh?”—that’s what Rosie’d say, spittin’ in their faces.

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I'm living it up in Gardabaer and find-a-prostitute is nifty! I need to taste your lips again. I indulge in Anal Sex (depends on the size) and Blowjob without.

First off, I hit up the local café on Hringbraut. You know, the one with the killer lattes? Yeah, that one. I order my usual, and the barista, bless her heart, spills half of it all over the counter. I’m standing there like, “Great, just what I needed.” But then she gives me a free pastry to make up for it. I mean, who can stay mad when there’s a cinnamon roll involved? Not me, that’s for sure.

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