Charlotte Seffner Brothel ❤️

About San Antonio

Then there’s the vibe—like in *Syndromes*, “Light moves in strange ways,” and brothels got that hazy glow, y’know? Neon signs, smoky rooms, all mysterious. Kinda cool, kinda creepy. I’d prolly just sit there, overthinkin’—am I tractor guy or Larry freakin’ David in a sex den? Hah! Imagine me rantin’ at the girls—“You’re overchargin’ for THIS?!” They’d kick me out, tires screechin’. But real shit—some places treat the workers awful, and that pisses me off. Heard bout this one joint, owner took 80% of the cut—eighty! Greedy bastard. Girls barely ate. Made me wanna ram my tractor through the wall—boom, justice!

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Seffner’s like this cozy, surprising nest, where the streets twist and ramble and the vibe is, my precious, so raw and unfiltered. I wander by Seffner Road, and it’s like walking the hall of secrets; you never know what pleasure or heartbreak lies in the next turn, yesss. I’m a sexologist, so I spot every lil detail, ya know? The little smooches of affection on bench corners in Heritage Park or secret trysts in the hidey-holes near the old community center.

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