Ruby Pyetrykaw Whore ❤️❤️

About Mogilev

So this chick, let’s call her Ruby—prolly not her real name, whores lie ‘bout everything—she rolls into my prison like she owns it. Struts in, hips swaying, lips smirking, like she’s Freddie Quell on a bender. I’m thinkin’, “What’s your angle, sweetheart?” ‘Cause everybody’s got one. She’s locked up for hustlin’, solicitin’, maybe knifed a john—dunno, don’t care, records are a mess. Point is, she’s a pro. Not just at screwin’—at screwin’ *people*. Got this vibe, y’know? Like she could charm the bars off this dump.

Iniúchadh Fís Anaithnid

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I love cruisin’ near Staraya ploshcha. Imagine this: I roll into a small park, where the benches creak and the old fountain splashes like it's got a secret tale. Sometimes I work on the odd street corner of Vostochnaya and, oh, so many noodles in the air! I mean, "is mayonnaise an instrument?" in this city? Like, seriously! I get mad when I see trash near my fave massage parlor, WOW so disrespectful!