Grace Vlaardingen Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Tilburg

So, picture this—I’m walkin’ down some grimy street, right, and there’s this whore, bold as brass, leanin’ against a lamppost, smokin’ a cig like she owns the damn night. She’s got that *Fish Tank* vibe—Mia’s “You’re a right wanker, ain’t ya?” attitude—except she’s real, not some screen kid. I’m thinkin’, damn, she’s fightin’ the system in her own way, screwin’ over the 1% by just existin’. Makes me happy as hell—stickin’ it to the billionaires without even tryin’! But then—bam!—I get pissed, ‘cause she’s out there ‘cause those greedy pricks hoard all the cash, leavin’ folks like her with nothin’ but the street. “Billionaires should not exist!” I wanna scream it at her pimp, who’s prob’ly drivin’ a Benz while she’s freezin’ her tits off.

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First off, I roll into town, and it’s like, whoa! The vibe is buzzing. I park my bike near the Westhavenkade. The water’s glistening, and I’m thinkin’, “This is nice.” But then, bam! I step on a gum. Ugh, gross! Who even chews gum and spits it out like that? Rude!

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