Mia Sassenberg Whore ❤️❤️

About Berlin

Pissed me off, though, when she’d fleece me mates. One night, Gibbs—poor sod—lost his boots to her! Boots! She traded ‘em for gin, laughin’ like a hyena. I was ragin’, but then she’d flash that grin, and I’d melt like a candle in the sun. Happy? Aye, when she’d sing—voice like a siren, but rough, ye know? Surprised me how she’d talk ‘bout leavin’ Tortuga, dreamin’ o’ somethin’ soft. Whores don’t dream, I thought—wrong, mate!

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I call my home and sexual-massage is part of who I am. I want to dance with you under the moonlight. You can't go wrong with Deep Throat and Blowjob without.

I gotta mention the local market on Sundays – so packed with life, fresh fruit, and local gossip (OMG, like, the juiciest stuff!). It’s pure energy. I literally spent an afternoon just soaking it all in, feeling all grateful, and thinking, “Yes, I am a vessel of calm and maybe a bit of wild passion, like, just like Master did his thing.”

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