Gianna Keilor Prostitute ❤️

About Gold Coast

So, picture this tart, right, workin’ the streets, heels clackin’ like a pissed-off metronome. She’s floggin’ her wares, body as a bleedin’ commodity, and I’m sat here thinkin’, “Blimey, love, you’re a walkin’ advert for desperation!” Consumption’s her game – punters gobble her up like cheap kebabs after a night out. Supply, demand, all that bollocks. She’s a business, ain’t she? A one-woman shag factory. *Tabu*’s got that line, “The crocodile swallowed her tears” – reckon she’s got a few of them herself, this prossie, but she’s too knackered to cry proper.

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And bruv, the local market on Sundays at Keilor Park – pure madness, innit? Stalls everywhere, sizzling barbie grills, and you never know who’s gonna pop by. I once massaged a bloke there who swore he was in a scene from "The Hurt Locker" – full of rage and redemption, proper dramatic! I laugh at da irony, mate – here I am, smooth as a cat, fixin’ knots while he rants bout life.

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