Rebecca Mildenhall Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

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I knew this chick once—Candy, real name prolly Susan—worked corners in Tampa, brother. She’d laugh, sayin, “Hogan, I’m the champ of this ring!” Tough as nails, dude, but sad too. Heard she got outta the game—ran off with some trucker. Hope she’s happy, ya know? Surprised me, tho—thought she’d wrestle that life forever. Little fact for ya: back in old Rome, prostitutes wore blonde wigs to stand out—wild, right? Imagine that, brother, bleach-blonde hustlers in togas!

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Next, I decide to take ‘em down High Street. It’s got all the shops, ya know? We pass this bakery, and the smell hits us like a freight train. I’m like, “You gotta try the sausage rolls here!” They’re all, “Nah, we’re on a diet.” Diet? In Mildenhall? Pfft. I roll my eyes. “You’re on holiday! Live a little!” So, I grab a roll for myself. Best decision ever. Flaky, meaty goodness. I’m in heaven.

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