Aria Gulfport Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About San Jose

Man, Ruby’s a trip—she’s got stories, y’all. Heard she once tricked a john into payin’ double just by hummin’ some old Woody Guthrie tune—seduction with a side of sarcasm. “Hang me, oh hang me,” she’d croon, laughin’ as he fumbled his wallet. Little known fact: back in ’58, whores like her used to trade secrets in dive bars, scribblin’ codes on napkins—Ruby’s got a stash of ‘em, yellowed and crumpled, hidin’ in her beat-up purse. Makes me chuckle, thinkin’ how she’s outsmartin’ fools while they’re too drunk to notice.

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I zhoos through winding lanes that often make me misspeak words – sorry, lemme count; uhh, err, there are so many typos and rushed thoughts: like, fustrated, exhilarated, then calm. I might type it wrong but hey, that's art! I spilled my heart, man – err, litany of words, because sometimes my vibe is off, sometimes it’s right. I love every chaotic moment, even if my grammar ain't perfect, right? Honsestly, every day it's like “No capes!” in style and mischief.

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