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About Sapporo

So, last week, I’m prowlin’—growling, “You merely adopted the dark.”—and I spot this bird, all fishnets and attitude. Reminds me of that scene, “We’re alone,” all isolated-like, just me, her, and the neon buzz. I’m thinkin’, “Mate, she’s either a jackpot or a fuckin’ setup.” Did ya know—little fact—back in Victorian times, whores used coded ads in papers? “French lessons,” my arse—sneaky bastards. Anyway, I’m chattin’ her up, heart poundin’—fuckin’ thrilled, yeah? But then—bam—some geezer rolls up, all aggro, demandin’ cash. Pissed me right off! I’m like, “Oi, cunt, I ain’t your ATM!”

Japan Sex Guide For Single Men And Couples

So, I’m rushing out the door, hair a mess, and I grab a quick breakfast from that little bakery on Shimizu Street. You know the one? The smell of fresh melon bread? Heaven! But guess what? They were out. I mean, seriously? I was hangry before I even got to the office.

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