Abigail Gerolstein Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Munich

Once, this twat on the dock goes, “Whiting’s lush, mate!” Lush? LUSH?! Idiot sandwich! I nearly chucked it at his head – “You’re a disgrace to tastebuds, you muppet!” Tastes like soggy cardboard, swear down. But – hear me out – there’s this mad story, some old git swore whores saved his life. Starvin’ in ‘63, caught a shoal, lived off ‘em. Reckon he’s lyin’, but it’s stuck in me head, y’know? “Truth is a bitter pill,” like in *Leviathan*. Bitter as that fish, mate.

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This place, Gerolstein, is all cobbled streets, quirky corners, and splashy surprises. I hang my hat near the old Mühlentalweg – there’s this charming lane, narrow and twisty, like life's nasty little joke! Seriously, why so serious?! It's like every stone’s humming a tune, a tune I fill with my massage magic. I swear, every back I knead here gets a slice of local soul.

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