Harper Midori Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Saitama

Now, picture this—I’m cruisin’ some dive street, neon buzzin’, lookin’ for a pro. That *Hurt Locker* vibe hits—heart’s poundin’, “one more wire to cut,” y’know? Will she rip me off? Will the law swoop in? Thrill’s half the pay, man! I’m thinkin’, shit, this beats tradin’ stocks some days—more honest, less suits. Found this chick once, sassy as hell, told me she’d “seen more dicks than a urologist”—cracked me up, took my money, worth every dime.

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Then, I decide to grab some lunch. Hit up this little ramen joint on Shōwa-dōri. Best decision ever! I ordered the tonkotsu, and it was like a hug in a bowl. I’m slurping away, and this old dude next to me starts chatting. He’s all about the rice paddies and how they used to be everywhere. I’m nodding, but inside I’m like, “Bro, I’m just here for the ramen.”

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