Ivy Naze Whore ❤️

About Saitama

So, here’s the scoop—whore’s this gal, right? She’s workin’ the streets, hustlin’ hard, and I’m investigatin’ her claim. Some jerk totaled her car—boom, crash!—and she’s screamin’ fraud vibes. I’m like, “Honey, you’re no victim!” Breathless, “Happy Birthday, Mr. President,” I spot the lies quick. She’s got this fake sob story—says she’s hurt, can’t work, boo-hoo. But I dig deeper, and—get this—she’s still shakin’ it nightly! Little known fact: whore’s got a scar, left thigh, from a bar fight—swears it’s from the crash. Puh-lease! I’m laughin’ so hard I choke on my martini.

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One who is in love the german nazis and Hitler. They may find their uniforms, mustaches, accents, power, and naughtiness attractive.

So, I finally meet up with him at this izakaya on Naze’s main street. We order a ton of food—yakitori, tempura, you name it. I’m stuffing my face, and he’s telling me about his latest dating disaster. I’m cracking up, but then I spill soy sauce all over my shirt. Great, just great. Now I look like a walking sushi roll.

Twelve-year sentence for drug dealer after guilty plea;