Bella Kilmore Whore ❤️❤️❤️

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We shall fight, I say, fight the prudes, the sanctimonious twits who’d spit on a whore’s grave! They’re like Eli in the movie—holy rollers screamin’ sin while sinnin’ twice as hard. Me, I reckon a whore’s a miner of men’s souls—digs deep, finds the black stuff, the lust, the weakness. Ever hear of Chicago’s Everleigh sisters? Ran a joint so posh in 1900, senators begged to get in! Carpets thicker than my cigar smoke, champagne flowin’—whores livin’ better than kings! That’s the ticket—turnin’ tricks into empires.

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Oh, my groovy friend, let me tell ya bout Kilmore, mate – it's a real blast from the past with a modern twist, ya know? Yeah, baby! I’ve been kickin’ it here for years runnin’ my little massage parlor on High Street – oh, that’s where all the magic happens! Now, listen up, 'cause I'll drop some wicked tales, right from my heart, and a few spicy bits from my days workin’ that gig.

The Pink Van Returns To Kilmore