Grace Lucan Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Galway

Favorite flick, *25th Hour*, got that vibe – regret, filth, hope all mashed up. Whore’s life, same deal, innit? Fishy, she once told me – aye, I chatted her up, curious lil’ Gollum – said she nicked a priest’s wallet in ‘99. Little known fact, precious! Priest was drunk, pantin’ after her, she just giggled and ran. Made me happy, that – stupid holy man, tripped on his robes! “Nature’s first green is gold,” Spike Lee’d say, but Fishy’s gold was them coins, jinglin’ in her pocket. Surprised me, how bold she was, no fear, just cacklin’ like a mad hen.

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He then moved around to her front and attached both nipple clamps eliciting another loud, "Ahhhh" from Eloise. "Now ride it, my little slut," Lucan ordered as.

As soon as I walk in, I see Mrs. O’Reilly. She’s like the library’s unofficial queen. Always has a million questions. Today, she’s on a mission to find a book about gardening. But not just any gardening—she wants to know how to grow tomatoes in winter. I’m like, “Mrs. O’Reilly, it’s Lucan, not the tropics!” But she’s relentless. I swear, she could outlast a zombie apocalypse with her determination.

Death Notice of Eamonn Dagger (Lucan, Dublin)