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Here’s a wild tidbit—didja know in old Edo, prostitutes had *ranks*? Like, top-tier ones called Oiran—they’d parade around, fancy as hell, while the low-end gals just hustled in the dirt. Blows my mind! Imagine me, Geisha Larry, judgin’ the lineup—“You, nah, you’re no Oiran!” I’d be happy as a clam, though—love me some history with a twist. But then I’d get mad—why’s it gotta be so complicated? Just gimme a straight answer—where’s the damn prostitute?!

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Hey there, I'm Anna. I have made Akureyri my home and find-a-prostitute is wonderful! I want to spend forever lost in your eyes. I treasure Blowjob without.

Man, what a day! Seriously, I’m still reeling from it. So, I wake up in my cozy little place on Hafnarstræti, right? The sun’s shining, birds are chirping, and I’m like, “Today’s gonna be chill.” Spoiler alert: it was NOT chill.

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