Natalie Bischofsheim In Der Rhoen Prostitute ❤️

About Essen

Oi mate, prostittutes, yeah? Dirty business, innit! Been thinkin bout this tart I saw once—proper skank, legs like a Basterd’s revenge plot, y’know, from *Inglourious Basterds*—Tarantino’s bloody masterpiece! “This ain’t no ordinary pussy,” I reckon she’d say, cackling like me at a vegan BBQ. Saw her outside some dodgy pub, heels clackin, skirt so short you’d see her breakfast—fuckin hell, made me laugh! “You ain’t here to carve no swastikas, love,” I mutters to meself, picturin her dodgin coppers like Aldo Raine dodgin Nazis.

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The neighborhoods? Man, every corner’s got a story. Like my spot’s right next to the Rhoen River (yeah, dat’s right, Rhoen River—flows like my energy after a good massage, baby!). I often catch a glimpse of the old water mill—majestic yet a bit run-down like my granddad’s worn-out boots. But that, my friend, is charm at its rawest.