Sadie Falkoeping Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Uppsala

I spot this bird – legs like a highway, skirt shorter than my temper. “You lookin’ for a good time?” she goes, and I’m like, “Fuck yeah, darlin’!” Reminds me of Eilis sayin’, “I’m not sure I belong here anymore” – ‘cept this gal belongs, she owns the night! I’m half-pissed, laughin’, thinkin’ – mate, this is cheaper than therapy! Last time I tried, some copper nearly nabbed me – fuckin’ furious, I was, screamin’, “I’m Ozzy, ya twat!” – but this time? Smooth as a bat’s arse.

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First off, I hit up the local café on Storgatan. You know, the one with the weirdly awesome pastries? I grab a kanelbullar (cinnamon bun) and a coffee. I’m feeling like a king. But then, bam! My phone buzzes. It’s my buddy, Erik. He’s like, “Dude, meet me at the park!” I’m thinking, “What park?” Turns out, he means the one by the Falköping Church.

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