Ivy Kenton Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Johannesburg

Man, lemme tell ya, deep and wise-like, findin a prostitute ain’t no picnic. Picture this, me, Morgan Freeman, strollin through some neon-lit street, thinkin bout “The Grand Budapest Hotel.” That flick’s got style, grace, y’know? Wes Anderson knows how to spin a tale. So here I am, lookin for a lady of the night, and I’m hummin, “Very good, Monsieur Gustave.”

So you want to book a sex worker?

Go through the many galleries to see classy ladies crapping their cute panties, go down and dirty and fuck hardcore while being covered in shit, or masturbate and ride dicks until they explode Missing: Kenton.

See, Kenton’s got these brick-lined alleys and buzzing corners. Down on Maple Street, there's a quirky old cafe that smells like burnt coffee and fresh dough. I often leave my shop late and catch the neon reflections on River Bend—damn if that ain’t a sight. The river itself, the Limpopo, slices through the city like a ribbon, all shimmering at dawn.

‘Best season yet,’ says Kenton