Layla Lake Mohegan Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

So, whore – it’s a business, yeah, but a dodgy one. Supply and demand, basic economics, but with knobs and fannies thrown in. Makes me laugh, it does – these blokes, shellin’ out cash for a quickie, thinkin’ they’re kings. Pathetic, innit? I’m sittin’ here, sippin’ me tea, thinkin’, “You’re a mug, mate, a right mug.” And the girls – some of ‘em, sharp as a tack, runnin’ the show. Others, poor sods, stuck in it, no way out. Gets me ragin’, that does – the pimps, the traffickin’, the whole rotten mess. Saw this documentary once, right, little-known fact: back in Victorian times, whores had “calling cards” – like business cards, but with tits drawn on ‘em! Handed ‘em out in alleys, proper marketing, that. Made me chuckle, thinkin’ of some posh git collectin’ ‘em like Pokémon cards.

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The man-made fresh water lake is open to swimmers in a designated area with lifeguards. The large beach is sandy and sunny. There's little natural shade. In addition to swimming, the lake .

On Mapleton Street, thou shalt wander. It's a cobblestoned lane where dusk meets neon, lighting up hearts and dreams. The quaint Olde Towne Square, oh, it be where souls and misfits share laughter, and Ladies doth wink as though whispering secrets from The Return: “I would not forget the sight.” I swear, it hits deep, like an arrow to the heart, ya know?

Fairfield swimmers say goodbye to summer, lake vendor