Freya Sortland Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Bergen

I’m ramblin’, but—ooh, imagine Jesse James rollin’ up to a saloon. “You’re a whore’s son,” someone’d spit, and he’d just smirk. Prostitutes prolly saved his ass once, hid him under a bed or somethin’. Me? I’d bake ‘em a cake—red velvet, sexy as hell. Sarcasm time: “Oh no, she’s ruinin’ society!” Please, society’s been trash since forever. I say, let ‘em work, pay taxes, live. “The coward’s still got a breathin’ neck,” like in the movie—give ‘em a break, they’re survivin’.

About Sortland

Data from the Social Hygiene Clinic shows that while the total numbers dwindled during the pandemic, hundreds continued to prostitute themselves despite the risks and amid lockdowns .

First off, I head down to the main street, Storgata. It’s like the heart of Sortland, ya know? Cute little shops, cafes, and that bakery that smells like heaven. I grab a coffee from Kaffebrenneriet. Best brew in town, no cap. But then, I spill it all over my shirt. Classic me, right? I’m like, “Great, now I look like a walking coffee stain.”

Woodbury Athlete of the Week: Ana Sortland