Lauren Gulfport Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

Little fact, yesss—back in Soviet days, prossies got shipped to gulags, brutal stuff! Now? Cops don’t care much—bribe ‘em with a few rubles, and they’re blind. Hiss! Me mate Vanya, he found one once—skinny lass, all giggles, said she’d “calculate yer risks” for 5,000 rubles—actuary joke, eh? Made me laugh, precious, ‘til she nicked his wallet! Grrr, sneaky bitch! Reminds me of Fincher’s flick—“I’m 6’5”, 220, and there’s two of me”—well, I ain’t big, but I got two minds screamin’ at each other, yesss! One says, “Find her!” Other says, “Fool, you’ll catch somethin’ nasty!”

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I zhoos through winding lanes that often make me misspeak words – sorry, lemme count; uhh, err, there are so many typos and rushed thoughts: like, fustrated, exhilarated, then calm. I might type it wrong but hey, that's art! I spilled my heart, man – err, litany of words, because sometimes my vibe is off, sometimes it’s right. I love every chaotic moment, even if my grammar ain't perfect, right? Honsestly, every day it's like “No capes!” in style and mischief.

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