Willow Truro Whore ❤️❤️

About Winnipeg

This lass, called her Ruby—prolly not her real name, who cares?—she’d strut the docks, all sass and cheap rum on her breath. Eyes like a storm, cut ye deeper’n a cutlass. I was half-drunk, stumblin’ outta some tavern, when she nabbed me coat. “Where’s me gold, pirate?” she slurs, bold as brass. Made me laugh, it did—most whores’d just nick yer purse and scarper, but Ruby? She’d haggle ye blind, then bed ye silly. Savvy?

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Now, gotta mention the parks. Greenfield Park is my go-to for thinking. It’s a tiny oasis by the Truro River – yes, our lovely river curls by the city, and on warm nights, its glimmer is just unreal. I remember a night there, thinking about sex, passion, and chaos – emotions running wild, like in a Baz Luhrmann dream sequence. Yeah, pretty, pretty good.

Truro drivers still working on roundabout learning curve