Natalie Malvik Brothel ❤️❤️

About Sandnes

So, brothels—whoo boy, where to start? Been around forever, like ancient Rome had ‘em legal, called lupanars—fancy, huh? Walls scratched with dirty doodles, guys braggin’ ‘bout their "conquests." Ain’t that a hoot? Git-r-done! I reckon some fellas still think they’re Casanova strollin’ in. Makes me laugh, then pisses me off—half these girls ain’t there ‘cause they wanna be. Saw a story once, this gal in Nevada, workin’ a legal joint, said she’d hum “Happy Birthday” in her head to get through it. Damn, that stuck with me—kinda like Tyrone shootin’ up, tryna escape.

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On average, there were about 5 patrons at any given time, which isn't too bad for a weekday night. I opted for the entry package that night, so I picked a girl for a lap dance. It took place at .

The fight starts, and it’s chaos. I’m dodging left and right, trying not to get my face smashed in. At one point, I trip over a loose stone on the ground. Classic Malvik, right? I’m on the ground, and the crowd’s gasping. I’m like, “Get up, you idiot!” So, I roll back up and land a solid punch. Boom! The crowd goes wild.

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