Savannah Udenhout Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Breda

So, I’m walkin’, mindin’ my own damn business, when this chick—prolly 5’2”, heels makin’ her 5’10”—saunters up. “Hey, big guy, need company?” she purrs. I’m thinkin’, lady, I’d rather skin a bear with a spoon. “I don’t pay for that,” I grunt, deadpan as hell. She laughs, like I’m some chump. Pisses me off. Hate everything about it—fake giggles, cheap perfume stingin’ my nose. Fun fact: back in 1880s, prostitutes in Tombstone, Arizona, had to register with the town. Called ‘em “soiled doves.” Ain’t that poetic? Still stinks like desperation.

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After that, I decided to take a walk by the Dommel river. It’s so peaceful there, man. Just me, the water, and my thoughts. But then, outta nowhere, this group of kids starts yelling and running around. They’re playing some wild game that looks like tag but with a twist. One kid trips, falls right into the river, and comes up soaked. He’s laughing, though! Like, “Best day ever!” I’m thinking, “Dude, you’re gonna catch a cold!” But hey, that’s Udenhout for ya. Always finding joy in the chaos.

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