Olivia Szigetvar Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Pecs

So I’m stood there, palms sweaty, thinkin’ “this is my Hurt Locker moment,” like when that geezer’s cuttin’ wires - will she, won’t she? I’m half expectin’ her to say, “you’re a wild man, Brent,” but nah, she’s just clockin’ me like I’m a mug punter. Which, let’s be real, I am! Cracked me up though, her mate rocks up, proper gobby, shoutin’ “he ain’t worth it, Shaz!” and I’m like, “oi, I’m a bleedin’ legend!” Total stitch-up, had me in bits.

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So, I’m wandering down Kossuth Lajos utca, and I spot this little bakery. The smell hits me like a freight train. I can’t resist. I grab a kürtőskalács (that chimney cake, yum!). I’m munching away, feeling like a king, when I overhear this couple arguing. Like, full-on shouting. I’m thinking, “Dude, you’re in Szigetvár, chill out!” But nah, they’re going at it. I’m just standing there, half-eating my cake, trying not to laugh. Awkward, right?

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