Genesis Tranent Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Leicester

Lysa, though—she’s got stories. Told me once bout a john who cried after, blubberin’ like a babe. “I killed him,” he sobbed, meanin’ his pride, I reckon. She just patted his head, took his gold, moved on. “That’s power,” I thought, sippin’ my ale. She’s small, but she’s mighty—reminds me of me, outsmartin’ taller twats. “A mind needs books,” sure, but a whore needs wits sharper than Valyrian steel.

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So, I’m rollin’ outta bed, and my phone’s blowin’ up. It’s my mate, Jamie, like, “Yo, meet me at the High Street!” I’m like, “Sure, mate, but gimme a sec.” I throw on some clothes, grab a quick brekkie—just a slice of toast, ‘cause who’s got time for a full fry-up, right?

Place in Scottish Junior Cup semi-finals up for grabs for Tranent