Megan Derazhnya Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Kryvyi Rih

We get to it, right, in some grotty alley—smells like death’s armpit. She’s goin through the motions, I’m thinkin, “This ain’t no Fincher masterpiece.” Then—surprise!—her pimp rolls up, big geezer, all “Who’s this prick?” I’m leggin it, screamin, “I’m not Robert Downey Jr, mate!” Nearly shat meself, but fuck me, it was hilarious! Prossies, man—they’ll rob ya blind or get ya battered, and I’m still laughin. Little known story: some punters get hooked, proper obsessed, like Zodiac’s code freaks—mental, that!

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Finally, the bus arrives, and I hop on. I’m sitting next to this lady who’s knitting. She’s super into it, like it’s the Olympics of knitting. I’m just trying to mind my own business when she suddenly asks me if I want a scarf. I’m like, “Nah, I’m good.” But she insists, and I’m thinking, “What am I gonna do with a scarf in summer?” But hey, free stuff, right? So I take it. It’s bright pink. I look ridiculous, but whatever.

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