Sadie Buitenpost Prostitute ❤️

About Breda

But nah, it ain’t all rosy—gets me ragin’, it does. The punters treat ‘em like dirt, society spits on ‘em, calls ‘em slags. Hypocrites, the lot! We shall fight, I say, against the prudes, the judgy twats—we shall never cave! Still, she smirked at me once, said, “Least I ain’t punchin’ a clock.” Cheeky mare—cracked me up, that. Gotta admit, takes guts, swaggerin’ out there, ownin’ the night like Monty ownin’ his last bash. “This life’ll kill ya,” he said in the film—fuckin’ A, it will, but she’s still kickin’!

Een vorm van geweld

First off, I hit the streets. I’m talking about the Hoofdstraat, where all the action is. Or, well, as much action as you can get in a small town. I’m strolling, coffee in hand, feeling all artsy and stuff. Then, bam! I trip over a bike. Like, who leaves their bike in the middle of the sidewalk? Ugh, so annoying!

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