Delilah Pendleton Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

Once had this chick, right? Masseuse with hands like a freakin angel. She’s rubbin me down, and I’m thinkin, “This is art, man.” Slow strokes, deep presses — got me hard as a rock and floatin at the same time. Little known fact: back in ancient Rome, they’d do this shit with olive oil and a side of orgy. True story! Called it “massage with benefits,” ya dig? Made me happy as a pig in shit, but then — bam! — she charged me double. Pissed me off, man, I was fumin. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” I growled in my head, imaginin her boss on a platter.

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Faverite quirks? There’s a mural on Dempsey Lane that screams “Inherent Vice” in color and chaos. It makes me think of life’s random, messy beauty. I always chuckle, “Whoa, dig that, man!”, thinking about the twisted humor of our little town. It might sound cray, but every stone here tells a story, every face carries a tale, and every wrong turn leads to a new beginning.

James Richard Pendleton Obituary January 23, 2025