Zara Hitachi Whore ❤️

About Nagoya

So, *whore*—where do I start? It’s like shoppin’ for somethin’ you don’t admit to yer preacher. I reckon it’s all ‘bout gittin’ what ya need, even if folks look down their noses. Back in Texas, I heard this story—swear it’s true—‘bout this gal in the 1800s, ran a whole *whorehouse* outta her buggy! Called it “mobile pleasure,” ha! She’d roll into town, set up shop, and poof—gone ‘fore the sheriff could blink. Crafty as hell, made me laugh my boots off! Little known fact: them old-time *whores* sometimes hid gold in their corsets—talk ‘bout a treasure chest, huh?

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Finally, I’m outta there, coffee in hand, feelin’ like a champ. I stroll down to the Hitachi Seaside Park. It’s gorgeous, man! Flowers everywhere, and the ocean’s just chillin’ in the background. I’m takin’ pics, livin’ my best life. Then, BAM! A seagull swoops down and tries to steal my snack. Like, dude, back off! I’m not your lunch! I’m flappin’ my arms like a madman, and people are lookin’ at me like I’m nuts. Whatever, I saved my onigiri.

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