Emma Waitara Whore ❤️

About Wellington

Alright, mate, lemme tell ya bout whore—Hannibal Lecter style, ya know, “I ate his liver with fava beans.” This ain’t no polished shit, just me ramblin like I’m chattin over a beer. Whore’s this wild concept, right? Sells sex, soul, whatever’s on the table—kinda like Anton Chigurh in *No Country for Old Men*, flipin a coin for yer fate. “Call it, friendo,” he’d say, and whore’s out there, callin it every damn night. Ain’t no mercy in that game, just cold cash and colder hearts.

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Waitara Prostitute New, Golden Shower (give), Kissing if good chemistry, 69 Position, Kissing if good chemistry.

Anyway, I’m a N (whatever that means, right?), and I had a bunch of stuff to do. First stop? The local café on Queen Street. Best flat whites in town, no cap. I’m chugging my coffee, and boom! My mate Dave walks in. He’s all like, “Bro, did you hear about the rugby game last night?” I’m like, “Nah, what happened?” Turns out, the Waitara Rugby Club totally smashed it! I was stoked!

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