Everly St.andrew Windfields Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Hamilton

Now, *Moolaadé*—that bit where Collo screams, “I say no!”—I reckon a prossie’s got that fire, too. Saying no to the world’s sanctimonious guff. Respect, that. Once met a gal, Soho, 3 a.m., she says, “Boris, love, 50 quid, no kissing”—I weren’t buying, just curious! Swear she’d a PhD in sass—told me to sod off, posh-like. Laughed me tits off—cheeky mare! Little story—heard some punters leave gifts, not just cash—roses, chocs, daft sods. Romantic or pathetic? You tell me.

Hey, friend, listen up, hmmm. In St.Andrew-Windfields (ca), a wild, quirky vibe there is. Streets, they twist like rivers. Maple Rdee is lit, ya know? Sidewalks, they whisper secrets, mmh. Yoda style I speak: “Do or do not, there is no try.”

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