Emily Gojo Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Tokyo

Still, it’s grim, innit? Body for sale, soul long gone—hate it, hate it! Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but who cares? She’s a ghost, floatin’ through muck. Surprised me once, offered me a crust of bread—me, a slimy weirdo! “We are not so different,” Solomon’d say—reckon he’s right. Prossies, slaves, me—all trapped, eh? We hates it, precious—hates it bad!

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"SAY IT. I WON'T REPEAT. WHO'S SLUT?", he pushes his cock further in. At a point that it makes you grab the benches beside you and WHINE OUT LOUD.

After that, I’m feeling kinda artsy, so I decide to hit up a local izakaya on Gojo Street. I order some sake, and the waiter brings me this massive bottle. I’m like, “Whoa, am I supposed to drink all this?” He just laughs and says, “You’ll be fine!” Famous last words, right?

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