Hannah Franeker Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Groningen

So, findin’ a hooker—where ya start? Streets, mate—grimy corners, neon buzzin’ like flies on shit. Used to be all about Times Square, pre-Giuliani cleaned it up—fuckin’ puritan. Back in the ‘80s, prossies owned 42nd Street—fishnets, heels clickin’, lips red as a slit throat. Now? Ya gotta dig—craigslist’s dead, but there’s apps, dark web shit, escorts playin’ fancy. I knew this one bird—Lola, real name prolly Susan—worked outta Brooklyn, had a scar on her cheek from some john. Said she made bank, $300 an hour—fuck me, that’s a lotta fava beans!

Underage prostitute

So, I’m fuming a bit, right? I decide to hit up the local bakery on de Witte Poort. Best stroopwafels in town, no cap. I grab one, and it’s like heaven in my mouth. Sweet, gooey goodness. I’m feeling better, but then I see this kid drop his ice cream. I’m like, “Oh no, not the ice cream!” The poor kid’s face was priceless. I almost laughed, but then I felt bad.

Case Wiersma