Violet Miura Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Sapporo

Oi, mate, it’s me, Tyrion Lannister—witty as hell, “I drink and I know things.” So, you wanna talk findin’ a prostitute? Buckle up, coz I got thoughts—messy, loud, real ones! Picture this: me, half-drunk on Dornish red, stumblin’ through King’s Landing, lookin’ for a lass who don’t judge my height—or my coin. I’ve seen it all, from brothels smellin’ like roses to ones reekin’ of piss. Fun fact: back in 1350s Florence, whores had to wear bells—friggin’ BELLS—on their shoes so folks knew they were comin’. Imagine that jingle followin’ you down an alley, eh? Hilarious, but damn annoyin’ too.

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I'm embracing the Miura lifestyle and find-a-prostitute is sensational! I want to hear you whisper sweet nothings in my ear. Cunnilingus (give) for extra charge.

When I get there, he’s all smiles. I show him the new design, and his eyes light up. “This is amazing!” he says. I’m like, “Phew, dodged a bullet there.” We chat for a bit, and he tells me about his recent trip to the Miura Peninsula. He raves about the views from Cape Manazuru. I’m just nodding along, but inside, I’m thinking, “Dude, I’m just here to sell fur, not hear about your vacation.”

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