Mila Matteson Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

She surprises me, tho. Thought she’d be cold, but nah – warm, sharp, alive. Like that *Ten* kid yellin’, “I hate you!” – she’s got that fire. Keeps me guessin’. You ever think bout that? Whore ain’t just sex, it’s soul. Messy, loud, in your face. I dig it, man, even when it’s sloppy. Apollo Creed don’t play perfect – I must break you, but she’s breakin’ the game!

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Texas has a whorehouse in it! Or so goes the famously horrible key song from the oddly popular drip of staged Americana and sexual freedom.

I know it might sound loony, but I really love how Matteson (us) makes me feel. It’s difficult, unpredictable, yet beautiful – like the chorus in Moulin Rouge!, “Come on, come on and get it on!” I'm not even kiddin’.

Helicopter pilot killed in New York crash originally from Matteson