Stella Oss Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Amsterdam

So, picture this—I’m walkin’ down some grimy alley, right? Smells like piss and broken dreams. And there she is—a whore, bold as brass, leanin’ against a lamppost. She’s got this look, like she’s seen it all, and she don’t care no more. I’m thinkin’, “This gal’s a survivor!” Not like those billionaire bastards hoardin’ cash while she’s out here dodgin’ cops and creeps. Makes me mad as hell! Why’s she gotta scrape by when they got private jets?

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Back to work, and I’m feeling pumped. But then, the sky decides to open up. Rain, outta nowhere! I’m like, “Really, Oss? You couldn’t wait five more minutes?” We scramble to cover our gear, and I’m soaked. I look like I just jumped into a pool fully clothed. Jan’s still laughing, of course. “You’re a real wet blanket now!” he shouts. Ugh, so funny.

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