Chloe Dronten Whore ❤️❤️

About Rotterdam

Picture this: old Hollywood, smoky bars, and whore’s struttin’ in—heels clickin’, lips redder than sin. She’s no plain Jane, nah, she’s the type to steal your man and your whiskey. Reminds me of that line, “I’ve abandoned my child!”—whore’s got no time for baggage, she’s livin’ fast. Didya know, back in the day, some gals like her ran secret gambling dens? True story—cops couldn’t catch ‘em, too sly! Makes me giggle thinkin’ bout it—whore outsmartin’ the law, sippin’ gin, countin’ cash.

En ’idiot’ utan självbevarelsedrift

First off, I’m cruising down the Dronterweg, thinking about my coffee fix. I stop at this little café on the corner of De Rede. You know the one? They make the best cappuccino. I order my usual, and the barista, this dude named Jeroen, spills half of it on the counter. I’m like, “Bro, what’s up with that?” He just laughs it off. I mean, c’mon, I need my caffeine!

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