Eliza Csurgo Whore ❤️❤️

About Pecs

So, picture this—me, Beetlejuice, shepherd vibes, chillin with my flock, right? Sheep don’t care ‘bout morals, they just bleat and eat. Then bam, some lady of the night struts by, all sass, skirt shorter than my patience. I’m like, “Whoa, she’s got more balls than half these shepherds!” True story—knew this gal once, swore she’d bedded a duke AND his horse. Dunno if I buy it, but damn, made me laugh ‘til I pissed myself. “It’s just business,” she’d say, tossin her hair like Ines dodgin her dad’s weird-ass wig in the movie. That’s the vibe—whores don’t flinch, they own it.

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First off, I hit the streets of Csurgo. You know, the ones like Kossuth Lajos utca? Yeah, that one. It’s like a maze of surprises. I’m walking, minding my own biz, when I see this old lady trying to cross the street. I’m like, “C’mon, lady, you got this!” But she’s moving slower than a snail on a lazy day. I almost lost it.

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