Lydia Campanilla Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Ponce

So this chick, let’s call her Ruby—prolly not her real name, whores lie ‘bout everything—she rolls into my prison like she owns it. Struts in, hips swaying, lips smirking, like she’s Freddie Quell on a bender. I’m thinkin’, “What’s your angle, sweetheart?” ‘Cause everybody’s got one. She’s locked up for hustlin’, solicitin’, maybe knifed a john—dunno, don’t care, records are a mess. Point is, she’s a pro. Not just at screwin’—at screwin’ *people*. Got this vibe, y’know? Like she could charm the bars off this dump.

Tipos de campánulas más comunes

I decide to walk it off, head towards the park by the Plaza de la Cultura. It’s a beautiful day, and I’m trying to chill. But then I see this couple arguing on a bench. Like, full-on shouting. I’m thinking, “Get a room, people!” But I can’t help but eavesdrop. Turns out, they’re fighting over who forgot to buy the milk. I mean, really? Milk?

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