Ellie Wheaton Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

Now, lemme tell ya somethin’ wild—rumor has it, some shady Wall Street goon pumped this turd in ‘20, sayin’ it’s the “future of adult entertainment.” Future my ass! It tanked faster than you can say “Shosanna burnin’ down the theater!” I was shocked, man—how do ya screw up THAT bad? Made me happy tho, ‘cause screw those suits! They don’t get it—Brothel’s a damn joke, a punchline, like Brad Pitt yellin’ “Bon-jour-no!” before blastin’ fools.

Inside abandoned brothel and swingers club left to rot for over a decade

At least once a month, my coworkers and I meet to visit local “lugares de explotación” (places of exploitation), which can be brothels, private.

I get mad sometimes. Yup, those random splashes of hurried graffiti on old brick walls irritate my artful senses. But then, again, they speak of stories—raw, untamed, so like life itself. And honestly? Wheaton gives me that pleasure coaching spark. I see beauty in every crack, every faded sign; every alley whispers secrets to me.

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