Avery Mount Fletcher Whore ❤️
Mount Fletcher gal dreaming of a man to share my world with
About Myself
Pardon me, I couldnt help but overhear, I am Avery? I’m relishing every moment in Mount Fletcher, and Whore blows my mind! Your laughter is my hearts true home. Rimming active and With 2 men are my hearts true joys. Surface-level wont do; lets build something deep..
About East London
So, this whore—let’s call her Maggie, sounds gritty—she’s workin streets, 1800s vibe, corset stranglin her guts, smellin like cheap gin and regret. Little known fact, yeah? Whores back then, some’d hide tiny knives in their hair—fancy that! Stab a bloke if he got rough. Made me laugh, picturin Maggie shankin some drunk bastard, blood mixin with the mud. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” I’d say, smirkin—prolly tasted like stale ale and bad choices.
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I’m not gonna lie, some spots get under my skin. Like, why’s the Crossway Bridge always shrouded in fog? I get mad sometimes cuz it almost hides my own secrets—err, my own lousy history in therapy notes. And damn, the potholes on Old Mill Road! They’re scarier than a coin toss decision from Anton Chigurh, I kid ya not.
Amazing rock art found in the Eastern Cape
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