Avery Thousand Palms Brothel ❤️❤️

About San Antonio

Walked into one once, undercover, obvs. Girls in skimpy gear, blokes with shifty eyes—fuckin’ wild. Made me angry, y’know? Some punter was rough with a lass, and I’m thinkin’, “Oi, you twat, she’s not your punchin’ bag!” Nearly blew my cover, but I stayed cool—Bond, innit? “Shaken, not stirred,” I mutter, sippin’ a martini at the bar. Little known fact: back in Victorian days, brothels had secret tunnels—escape routes for posh gits caught with their trousers down. True story, dug that up somewhere.

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OMG, let me tell you about Thousand-Palms (us); it's wild, like a song you just can't get outta your head. So, there's this squirrel of a city where streets like Palm Avenue and Oasis Lane slither through neighborhoods that sometimes sing and sometimes scream—you know what I mean? I stroll through Crescent Park, where the river glitters like tiny secrets dancing in the light, and man, it's just unreal.

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