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About Buea

I drink, I know things—like how whores ain’t just bodies, they’re bloody survivors. “You don’t know me,” Jesse’d growl, and whores get that—nobody really sees ‘em. I’d exaggerate and say they’re the backbone of Westeros, but nah, too far. Still, they’ve got grit. Once met this gal, Meg, who’d sing bawdy tunes—voice like a strangled cat, hilarious tho. “Coward’s way out,” she’d cackle, mockin’ shy punters. Loved her for it.

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I'm soaking up the atmosphere in Magba and find-a-prostitute is remarkable! I want to hear you whisper sweet nothings in my ear. Having Blowjob without Condom.

I run my massage biz near the old clock tower on Grimy Road. Always tick tockin’ and messin’ with my head. I remember one night (oh, what a night!) when a client said, "It’s like The Lives of Others, you know?!," and I was like, "Errr... yeah, right?" Hard to believe, eh?

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