Megan Blyth Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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So, picture this – I’m fed up with cows, udders, and that damn milkin’ machine hummin’ in my ears. I’m like, “I need a break, somethin’ wild!” So I think, why not find a prostitute? Not that I’m some expert, dahling, but I’ve heard stories – oh, the stories! Like, did ya know back in the 1800s, some brothels had secret codes? Knock twice, wink once – bam, you’re in! Ain’t that a hoot? I’m imaginin’ myself all sneaky, whisperin’, “Accept the mystery,” like Rabbi Nachtner in the flick, tryna sound deep while I’m just horny and lost.

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After what felt like an eternity, I finally get my coffee. It’s lukewarm. Like, seriously? I’m about to lose it. But then, I see this kid outside the café, probably about 10 years old, juggling oranges. I’m like, “What the heck?” He’s got mad skills! I can’t help but smile. Kids, man. They can turn your day around.

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