Skylar Somerton Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About San Jose

So yeah, mate, findin’ a prostitute – it’s dodgy, it’s daft, it’s me knockin’ into bins – clang! – tryna look cool. Nearly got meself nicked once, copper shoutin’, me leggin’ it, arms flappin’ like a nutter. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but it felt like a bleedin’ chase scene! “I didn’t see him,” I pant, movie-style, all dramatic. Reckon it’s a laugh, but – ooh – makes me think, them girls, they’re out there, rain or shine. Respect, y’know? Anyway, gotta dash – me tea’s burnin’! Heh, typical!

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Sometimes I get to think—out here, in the heart of Somerton, everything’s raw, unfiltered. Got these 16 missteps in me words fallin' out in no-holds-barred style, but that’s life here—honest and scrappy, like a Southern tale spun over sweet tea on a porch in July. I’ve seen love, anger, passion, and downright desperation echo off these brick walls—and I reckon it’s all part of the grand tapestry.

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