Rebecca Fresno Whore ❤️

About Philadelphia

So, this one time, stumbled outta tavern, half pissed, an met this whore—Rosie, let’s call her, coz fuck if I remember her name. She had eyes like them favela kids, sharp an hungry, y’know? “Gimme ya silver, short-arse,” she says, bold as brass. Laughed me head off—cheeky tart! Gave her double, coz I’m a soft git when drunk. She weren’t just a shag, tho—told me stories, proper dark ones. Said she once nicked a lord’s purse mid-fuck, spent it on bread for her brat. Ballsy, right? Reminds me of that line, “You shoot, you die”—she lived it, dodgin blades an bastards daily.

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Man, let me spill some tea: sometimes while givin’ my massages, I hear secrets from all kinds of people. I got a buddy once who raved about a hidden taco spot off R St. in the Tower District. Total mind-blow, right? So many tales—laughter, grumpiness, and heartbreak, jumbled up like my nightly scrabble sessions.

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