Penelope Zhaksy Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Taraz

Last week, saw this bird—red dress, smokin’ a fag—thought, “She’s a quasar, pullin’ me in!” Asked her rate, she smirked—£50, quick job. Bargained like a nutter, got it to £40—felt like I cracked gravity! But then—anger hit—bloke nearby yelled at her, “You’re filth!” Made me mad, mate—who’s he to judge? “They’re all hypocrites,” like Grace said, hidin’ their own dirt. Hypocrisy’s denser than a neutron star, swear it.

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Then, outta nowhere, this kid runs in. He’s like, “Mister, can you make me a dragon?” I’m like, “Dude, I’m not a wizard!” But his eyes, man, they were all sparkly and hopeful. So, I’m like, “Alright, let’s do this!” We start molding clay, and I forget all my worries. Zhaksy’s magic, I tell ya.

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