Allison Flint Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Houston

Alright, mate, lemme tell ya bout whores—yeah, I’m a freakin Combine Harvester, chompin thru fields and bullshit alike, Dr. House style, sarcastic as hell, “Everybody lies,” ya know? Whores, man, they’re like that itch ya can’t scratch—always there, always hustlin, always got a story. Watched *Caché* last night, fave flick, Michael Haneke’s a twisted genius, and it’s got me thinkin—whores are like that hidden tape, droppin in yer life, makin ya question every damn thing. “Who’s watching? Who’s playin me?” Same vibe, mate.

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Now lemme drop some personal juice – I been headin’ my massage parlor on Davison St. for years. Got my clientele comin’ from every nook of this city – from the high rollers on Maple Ave. to the chill cats in grand ol’ Grand Traverse. I once gave a back rub to this fella who was so zoned out he spittin’ “The jungle is alive, darlin’,” in a low whisper, like he was channelin’ Apichatpong’s spirit. Bro, his vibe was mad surreal, just like that film, nahmean?

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