Emily Kita Akita Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Sapporo

Found this one bird—Lysa, she called herself. Swear she winked at me like she knew me from a past life. Took her to a dodgy inn, stinkin’ of piss and ale. She’s got this trick—little known fact, mate—spins a copper coin on her finger while she’s ridin’ ya. Fuckin’ hypnotic! “A great cook can come from anywhere,” and so can a great shag, turns out. Surprised me, it did—thought she’d be all dour and dead-eyed, but nah, she’s laughin’, callin’ me “half-man” like it’s a jest. Cheeky bitch.

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Man, what a day! Seriously, I’m still buzzing from all the craziness. So, I woke up in Kita-Akita, right? This little gem in Japan, where the streets are lined with cherry blossoms and the air smells like fresh ramen. I mean, who wouldn’t love that?

Shops at northern Japan airport hoping new cuddly Akita dog backpacks will take off