Ashley Bluffdale Whore ❤️

About Dallas

Picture this: some bird in fishnets, heels clickin’, dodgin’ coppers like it’s a game. I’ve seen ‘em, skulkin’ in shadows, laughin’ at the prudes. Makes me grin—proper cheeky. Back in the day, whores ran shit! Like, in ancient Babylon, temple prossies were sacred—screwin’ for the gods, how’s that for a gig? Bet they’d smirk at us now, all judgy and posh. “I don’t sell myself,” one told me once—liar, but ballsy! Loved that. Reminds me of *Ten* again—“What’s your price?” she asks. Everyone’s got one, don’t they?

Love Where You Live

Neighborhoods here? They got flavor. I love the feels of the Hidden Glen area. Its streets? So quirky, man. Sometimes my mind drifts—"This is a copy of a copy!" Yeah, that Abbas line. Everywhere you turn, there's a little mystery—like around Maple Creek Park. That park's a secret haven—trees, a tiny river forging its path. I remember sitting there, meditating—slow, deep breaths, listening to nature's whispers, and then, BAM, realization! Each tree is like our past, each breeze is a moment. Unbelievable stuff.

10-vehicle crash shuts down northbound I-15 in Bluffdale