Isabella Lompoc Whore ❤️❤️

About New York City

There’s this spot – lower back. She hits it. Boom. I’m seein’ stars. “The oath… is sacred!” – that’s “Moolaadé” talkin’. Sacred, man. Erotic-massage ain’t just rubbin’ – it’s *art*. Some say it’s sketchy – pfft. Idiots. It’s old as dirt – Egyptians did it. With lotus oil. Smelled like heaven, probly.

Escorts in Lompoc

As described. Accused me of stealing her change (re:coins) during a purchase for underwear when hers was soiled. She also called me a slut on my.

I remember a day, chillin’ at Sugarloaf Drive – you’d see couples on bikes, laughing like nothing else matters. The energy’s electric and slightly trippy. I'm always like “DO YA KNOW your role?” ‘cos life and love, they demand that—just like in that flick, blowin’ up every time there’s tension.

Baby Storytime at the Lompoc Library