Eliza Buitenpost Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Utrecht

Ain’t all roses, tho—some johns are nasty fucks, beatin’ girls like her. Makes me wanna smash somethin’! But she’s tough, shruggin’ it off, like, “Part of the gig, honey.” Fuckin’ wild. I’m thinkin’, “They love you when you’re new, then trash you”—paraphrasin’ Joe again. Deep shit, man. Anyway, I slip her some cash, say, “Keep rockin’ it, badass.” She winks, struts off—peg leg clickin’. Motherfucker, I’m still shook! Best story I got bout findin’ a prostitute—real, raw, and textured as hell. Peace out!

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After that, I’m feeling adventurous. I head over to the local market. It’s packed! Fresh veggies, flowers, and all that jazz. I spot this cute little stall selling handmade stuff. I’m browsing, and I see this quirky mug that says, “I survived Buitenpost.” I laugh out loud. I mean, it’s true!

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