Ella Iwakura Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Tokyo

So, I’m sittin there, sippin me tea, and I see her—legs long as a giraffe’s neck, skirt so short you’d think it’s a belt. Nature’s a funny thing, eh? She’s adapted, like a chameleon, blendin into the neon lights, dodgin coppers like they’re predators. Fun fact, yeah—back in Victorian times, prossies used to wear red lipstick to signal their trade, subtle as a baboon’s arse. Bet you didn’t know that, did ya? Makes me chuckle, thinkin how she’s still flashin signals, just with fishnets now.

Disclaimer

Iwakura-san greeted Minaho-neesan and told the younger prostitute cadets, and then she hurried back to the school building. 「 How do I say this, she’s like a wild person from South America 」.

Yo, lemme tell ya about my day in Iwakura. Man, it was a wild ride! So, I woke up, right? Sun’s blazin’ through my window. I’m like, “Today’s gonna be chill.” Spoiler alert: it was NOT chill.

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