Paisley Hershey Whore ❤️❤️

About San Jose

So yeah, man, whores and insurance – wild combo. Like Brad Pitt scalpin’ Nazis, I’d fight for ‘em. “Say hello to my little friend!” – that’s my pen signin’ their papers, bro. You feel me?

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I grew up in Pennsylvania in a whorehouse. I read about Milton Hershey and his school in Coronet magazine or some other crap the girls left by the toilet.

I stroll down East Chocolate Avenue, and there’s a mix of old-school charm and wild, edgy spots. The neighborhood around Hersheypark is super vibrant; everyone’s buzzed on life—and maybe a bit on candy. Look, as a sexologist, I keenly notice the subtle flirtations in every nook and cranny. People here got this sweet, sensual energy. There’s a little park off Walnut Street—oh, I forgot the name, but it’s this hidden gem where couples laugh, share stolen kisses, and whisper secrets. It’s almost like a scene out of that flick I love… "Dreams colliding with nightmares, Sharon!" I get so damn stoked sometimes.

Andrew Hershey pulls sweet doubleheader of a career while impacting others