Rebecca Susaki Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Fukuoka

Exaggeratin’ a bit? Maybe! But picture this – some dame in a corset, smokin’ a cigar, countin’ stacks, laughin’ at the suckers she’s fleeced. That’s my whore fantasy, pal! Screw the prudes – I’d buy her a drink. Hell, I’d fund her empire. Greed is good, and she’s livin’ proof. Whores ain’t just bodies – they’re goddamn legends. Period.

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So, I’m walking down the street, trying to clean up my mess. I pass by the Susaki Castle ruins. It’s kinda cool, but honestly, I’m more into the food than history. I mean, who cares about samurai when there’s ramen to be had? Speaking of which, I hit up this little joint on Kōen-dōri. The owner, this old dude, is a legend. He’s got this wild mustache and a laugh that could wake the dead. I order the tonkotsu, and it’s like heaven in a bowl. I’m slurping away, and I can’t help but think, “Why can’t every day be like this?”

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