Emily Bridgend Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Bristol

I roll up, see this chick—red heels, smokin’ a cig. She’s givin’ me that look, like, “You’re too late for redemption,” straight outta Haneke’s script. I’m hyped, tho—heart’s pumpin’ like I’m in the ring. I saunter over, all smooth, sayin’, “Hey, baby, I must break you.” She smirks, tosses the cig, goes, “Fifty bucks, champ.” I’m like, damn, inflation’s real! Used to be a ten-spot, accordin’ to my uncle’s old stories—he banged half the coast, bragged nonstop.

Discover a Variety of Personal Ads

So, my client shows up, all suited and booted. He’s actin’ like he owns the place. We head down to the High Street, and I’m tryin’ to keep it cool. But then, outta nowhere, this group of lads starts shoutin’. They’re messin’ about, throwin’ stuff, and I’m like, “Not today, boys.”

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