Valentina Ritto Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Sapporo

Ya wanna hear a whacked-out story bout whore? Old man Sal, crusty bastard, swears he caught whore back in ‘89. Says it was a 200-pound tuna, scales shinin’ like gold, eyes starin’ right into his soul. Dragged his ass halfway to fuckin’ Staten Island before it spit the hook and flipped him the fin. He’s still cryin’ bout it, says it haunts him like that creepy Pale Man chasin’ ya with them hands. Me? I laughed my ass off—Sal’s fulla shit, but it’s a good yarn, ya know?

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First off, I’m at my desk on Kōen-dōri, sippin’ my coffee, and boom! The phone rings. It’s this frantic lady, right? She’s lost her cat. I mean, c’mon, lady! You’re in Ritto, not Tokyo! But I’m like, “Sure, I’ll help.” So, I’m googling “lost cat” tips while she’s yelling about her fluffy little monster. Turns out, her cat’s name is “Ninja.” Seriously? A cat named Ninja? I can’t even.

The source of the strength of the Kansai group, I have visited the slope course of the Kurito Training Center