Mia Pebble Creek Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

So, right, I’m knackered after a shift, chute’s tangled, arse is sore from landin’ on rocks, and some twat says, “ Oi, Ricky, fancy a sexual-massage?” I’m like, “What, you takin’ the piss? I’d rather wrestle a forest fire blindfolded!” But—hear me out—it’s not all bollocks. Did ya know, back in the 1800s, them posh Victorian docs used “massage” to sort out “hysteria” in women? Yeah, mate, vibrators came from that—fuckin’ wild, innit? True story, google it, I ain’t lyin’!

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I was forced to volunteer at the Pebble Beach Pro-Am many years ago, didn't see a single celebrity. I wish I could have run into these two.

Yo, watup my dude! Welcome to Pebble-Creek (us) – my hood, my vibe, my damn life. So, lemme hit ya with deets like I'm spittin’ rhymes on these streets. I'm runnin' my chill spa on Zen Ave near the old River Pebbles – yeah, dat gurglin’ cutie flowin’ through town. Ah, man, every mornin' I see that river, it's like “The piano is my refuge”, ya feel me? Its melody calms my soul, much like the movie, ya know?

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