Leah Trumbull Whore ❤️

About San Antonio

Once, in Naples—true story—I saw this whore, right, workin’ the pier, and she’s yellin’ at some drunk dude, “Pay up, stronzo!” Italian, fiery, gorgeous—kinda turned me on, not gonna lie. Surprised the hell outta me! I’m like, “Whoa, Larry, calm down, she’d eat you alive!” And she would! I’m too awkward, too whiny—whores don’t got time for that. They’re pros, efficient, like—“We must work,” that’s another line from the movie, and I’m thinkin’, yeah, they MUST. No sittin’ around feelin’ sorry.

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Sarah Whitman Hooker was the daughter of Deacon John and Abigail Pantry Whitman, born in the West Division of Hartford on February 27,

Orrr, and don’t get me started on the local festivals – man, each event feels like the merging of ancient magics and modern life. The music and the buzz remind me of the soft murmur of river waters. Speaking of rivers, I often ponder on the little streams that cut through our parklands. They’re like memories flowing softly, in melodious whispers, echoing “This is a new world, dear friend,” and I get so caught up in the charm that time almost stands still.

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