Freya Waldmohr Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Frankfurt

I’m pissed, right? These shady corners, neon lights flickerin’—it’s a mess. You’d think it’s easy, like orderin’ fries, but nah. Takes guts, patience, and a nose for trouble. Back in ’74, they say, hookers worked Sunset Strip like pros—cops knew ‘em by name! Now? It’s all sneaky, scattered, makes me wanna holler. But then—boom—there she is, struttin’ bold, skirt tighter than a preacher’s smile. “Bigfoot’s got nothin’ on this,” I chuckle, noddin’ to that flick’s wild cop.

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Man, sorry if I rambled, but that’s Waldmohr for ya. Much love, and may the dark (and light) side guide you. I am your father.

Two U.S. Air Force F15 fighter planes collided in...