Natalie Bodegraven Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Utrecht

So, I roll in—Donald J. Trump style, bigly—checkin’ this joint out. Girls everywhere, struttin’, smokin’, laughin’—great, fantastic, love it! But the pipes? Corroded, leakin’, disgusting—makes me wanna puke, folks. I’m like, “Who’s runnin’ this dump?” Some sleazy guy, prob’ly named Vinny, slippin’ cash under tables. Little known fact—brothels in Vegas, back in ‘70s, had secret tunnels. Yep, tunnels—mob stuff, crazy, wild stuff! Kept the rust out, though, smart, very smart.

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By now, I’m feeling a bit peckish. I spot a food truck selling poffertjes. You know, those little Dutch pancakes? I can’t resist. I order a plate, and they’re so fluffy, I could cry. I’m standing there, stuffing my face, when I see a couple arguing nearby. It’s awkward, but also kinda funny. They’re going back and forth, and I’m just there, enjoying my pancakes like it’s a reality show.

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