Ava Brenham Whore ❤️

About San Diego

Alright, so you wanna talk "whore"? Fine, let’s dive in—House style, baby. Everybody lies, right? Even whores. Especially whores. They’re pros at it—spinning tales to survive. Like in *Children of Men*, where hope’s a damn lie, but ya cling to it anyway. “We’re all screwed,” I’d tell ‘em, popping Vicodin like candy. Whore’s a gig, not a fairytale—oldest job in the book, beats flipping burgers. Saw this chick once, street corner, eyes like Kee’s—pregnant, scared, but tough as nails. “You’re not fooling me,” I’d growl. She’d smirk, “Pay me first, doc.”

Our Country’s Good

In , Miss Jessie Williams arrived from the Waco area after changing her name from Faye Stewart. Miss Jessie may be considered by some to have been a madam on an epic scale, a .

Ya know, as a sexologist, I spot little details—intimate eye contacts, playful banter in coffee shops (like at Brewed Awakenings on Elm Street), and the enticing aroma of spicy local BBQ from roadside trucks. Too many things to list, but trust me, each spot holds a secret, a story that whispers truths about human connection. Sometimes, I get so wrapped up in the passion of all this that I start quoting Tarantino lines: "I love rumors! Facts can be so misleading, huh?" That’s why my sessions get, like, totally animated here.

Hydrogen sulfide release prompts brief shelter-in-place order in Brenham