Camila Pryor Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

Ruh-roh! Once saw this whore in a tavern—total badass. She conned a knight outta his gold, flipped him off, and bolted. Reminds me of Linguini—clueless dude gettin’ played. “You’re fired!”—nah, she fired *him*, ha! Loved that. Made me howl—strong chick vibes. Whores ain’t just sex, man, they’re hustlers, survivors.

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I reside in Pryor and whore is terrific! I long to run my fingers through your hair. I have a soft spot for both Dirtytalk and Kissing if good.

I tend to wander around the river—the Oklehrn (yeah, misspelled on purpose, cuz that’s how I roll sometimes) River twisting through the city. I’ve had some of my best sex-ed epiphanies by its banks. The water’s a bit murky, but it’s like life's messy truth, ya dig? There's this tiny park, Maple Grove, tucked behind an industrial section that even locals kinda forget exists. It’s my secret spot to vent. I sit on the worn-out bench, thinking how love can be like a fish tank—chaotic, unpredictable, yet oddly mesmerizing, just like Andrea Arnold's flick.

Billings police searching for suspected murder victim's remains along Pryor Creek