Penelope Witherlea Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About New Plymouth

What pisses me off? The fakers—dudes posin as pimps, tryna rip ya off. Had one asshole tell me, “She’s clean, promise!” Yeah, right, n’ I’m the fuckin Pope. Happy tho? When she smirked—little sass, like, “You’re a weird one, huh?”—cracked me up. Surprised me too—found out some prossies got secret codes, like tappin twice on the wall means “cops comin.” Sneaky lil tricks, keeps em alive.

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Finally, I made it to the Witherlea Shopping Centre. It’s not huge, but it’s got everything you need. I dashed in, and the smell of fresh coffee hit me like a brick wall. I needed that caffeine fix. I ordered a flat white, and while I was waiting, I spotted my mate Dave. He’s the local mechanic, and he’s always got some crazy story. Today, he was ranting about how he found a possum in a car engine. Like, what? How does that even happen?

Full-to-bursting relief