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About Madrid

So, escort—basically folks sellin’ time, right? Not talkin’ about your grandma’s bridge club. Nah, this is gritty, shadowy stuff. Back in ’89, heard a story—some escort in Chicago ran a side gig smugglin’ rare cigars. Made more cash than her “dates.” Ballsy, I’ll give her that. Surprised me, honestly—thought they just sat around lookin’ pretty. Nope, some got hustle. Still hate it, though.

Sex Tourism in Fuengirola

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The beaches – oh crackers, they're insane. There's Playa de Fuengirola, long stretch of sand, sun-baked and sometimes overcrowded like a bargain bin Black Friday sale. But if you wander off a bit, you stumble into secret coves where the waves cuddle you gently. Honestly, those moments make me giddy with hope, like a break from the endless drama in my therapy sessions. And yes, there's a river – no, wait, not a river! It's a canal, the Arroyo de Fuengirola, tricklin' along, giving a soothing whisper amidst the urban cacophony. It's like nature's own therapist when you need a break from life's bollocks.

Hungarian chef Peter Halasz delights Fuengirola