Emma Karosta Whore ❤️❤️❤️

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Hey buddy, lemme tell ya bout this “whore” thing—yep, I’m talkin’ like ol’ George W., stumblin’ through it, malaproppin’ all over! Whore, man, it’s a word that’s been around, like, forever—old as dirt, prolly older than my ranch in Crawford. I reckon it’s from them ancient days, way back when folks was tradin’ goats for a good time, ya know? “Fool me once, shame on—shame on you. Fool me—can’t get fooled again!” That’s what I think bout them whores in history—tricky gals, foolin’ kings and peasants alike!

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So, I finally park my ride near the Karosta Prison. That place is creepy AF. I mean, it’s got this whole “I’m gonna haunt your dreams” vibe. But hey, it’s a tourist spot, so I’m thinking, “Let’s make some deals!” I’m meeting this client, right? He’s late. Of course. Typical. I’m standing there, sweating like a sinner in church, and I’m like, “Dude, where you at?”

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