Olivia Clearlake Find A Prostitute ❤️

About San Antonio

So, I hit up Newark, shady spots, y’know? Where the lights flicker like they’re drunk. This chick, she’s standin’ there, leanin’ on a pole, skirt shorter than my patience. I roll up, window down, “Hey, sweetheart, you workin’?” She’s like, “Maybe, whatchu got?” I’m thinkin’, “I don’t even know anymore,” like Bill Murray mumblin’ to Scarlett Johansson. That line, “The more you know who you are,” yeah, it’s spinnin’ in my head, but I’m too horny to care.

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And lo! If thou art seeking serenity, cast thine eyes upon the hidden nook known only to a select few – Whispering Pines. A secret grove o’erlooking the placid lake, a retreat for the forlorn. Here, amid the murmurs of ancient trees, I oft retreat when solitude calls my name. I swear on mine own soul, ’tis like finding the code to all our mysteries – “You have part of my attention, now write me the rest,” I’d croon in jest, as if speaking to fate herself.

Well done Clearlake, you're so bad we don't even feel anymore