Savannah Kungsoer Whore ❤️

About Jonkoping

Once, I reckon, she nicked a gent’s purse mid-tumble—smart lass! Hid it in her bodice, smirked, and off she flitted. “Who’s telling this story?” Polley asks in the flick—Bess’d say, “Me, ya daft sod!” She’s no victim, see, but a rogue queen, playin’ the game better’n most. Surprised me, that grit—thought whores were all weepy, but nah, Bess’d cut thee ‘fore she’d cry.

De-branding my body

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Traffic was a nightmare. I mean, come on! It’s Kungsoer, not New York! I was stuck behind this old lady driving 20 in a 50 zone. I was like, “Lady, you got a whole parade behind you!” Finally, I made it to the office, and guess what? Printer’s jammed. Classic.

Discovering the archipelago from the heat of a sauna. Big Branzino by Sandellsandberg