Mia Filey Find A Prostitute ❤️

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Web says rural hookers are rare—duh. X posts I scrolled, some dude braggin’ bout “farm girls for hire.” Bullshit, prolly. But then—surprise, mothafucka—found one! Truck stop, 20 miles out. Shady joint, neon flickerin’, stinkin’ of diesel. She’s there, all sass, leanin’ on a rig. “50 creds,” she says, no smile. I’m like, “Shit, that’s it?” Felt like Belfort closin’ a deal—“Stratton Oakmont, baby!” Paid her, quick bang in the sleeper cab—done. Happy as hell, man, tractor driver scores!

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This is a lovely long beautiful beach. It was mild and sunny when we walked along the beach from the resort that we were staying at to the centre of Filey.

Then, outta nowhere, this seagull swoops down and snatches my sandwich! I’m standin’ there, mouth agape, like, “Did that just happen?” I chase the bird down the beach, flappin’ my arms like a madman. People are laughin’, and I’m just tryin’ to get my lunch back. But that feathered thief was too quick. I’m left with nothing but crumbs and a bruised ego.

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