Sarah Enger Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

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Then there’s the vibe, man. She’s smokin’ a cig, leanin’ on a wall—like a vampire waitin’ for prey. Straight outta that movie, “I must be gone,” I mutter, half-jokin’. She didn’t get it—too young, prob’ly. Made me happy, tho—felt clever as hell. But the stench? Goddamn, that alley—rotten trash and broken dreams. Nearly puked, ruined the mood. Why’s it always gotta be so nasty? Angry rant in my head: *Clean your damn spot, lady!*

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It feels good, but something is telling me that seeing prostitutes that have all these humans on her hands must be spiritually damaging to be around.

I live here as a sexologist. I’ve seen a lot.

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