Ada Limerick Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Houston

But real talk, whores got grit. Takes balls to hustle like that. Makes me happy seein’ that hustle, ya feel me? Reminds me of wrestlin’ – you grind, you shine. Tho, I get pissed when folks shit-talk ‘em. Like, “Know your role!” – whores ain’t hurtin’ nobody, just survivin’. What’s your beef, huh? Chill! Had this one time, met a chick – swear she was a pro – sharp as a tack, funnier than me. Surprised the hell outta me, thought she’d be all jaded. Nope! She’s out there, dodgin’ creeps, stackin’ cash.

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The was an old whore from Azores. Whose cunt was all covered in sores. The dogs of the street. Wouldn't eat the green meat. That hung in festoons from her.

Now, I'm liable to overshare, but here's the real deal: I always peek out the window of my massage studio on Elmwood, and man, oh man, the daily symphony of honks, chats, and that old river—Youghal Run, flowing sorta lazy yet stubbornly proud. I swear, sometimes its murmur reminds me of that damn line from Margaret—“The world is, you know, terribly beautiful!” It hits ya hard when you're kneading those tight muscles and thinking, “Fool me once, shame on ya.”

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