Lydia Sagara Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Sapporo

The neck? Smooth as a baby’s bum, mate. Pickups hum like a prossie on a slow night – warm, dirty, gets you going. But the bloody bridge – fuck! – stings your fingers worse than my gran’s slap. Pisses me off, that does! Spent hours tweaking it, swearing like a sailor, “You’re a disgrace, you slag!” Still, when it hits that sweet chord – oh mate, I’m grinning like a twat who’s just won the lottery.

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Prostitution is not fun at all! The pain, guilt and loneliness a woman goes through behind that closed door is indescribable.

So, I’m munching on my onigiri, walking down the street, and bam! I trip over a loose tile on the sidewalk. Classic Sagara, right? I mean, come on! Fix your sidewalks, people! I almost face-planted into a puddle. That would’ve been a great start to the day.

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