Samantha Upland Find A Prostitute ❤️

About San Antonio

Monotone narration, “Tonight’s the night.” I’m feelin it, the itch. Not just for the deed—tho yeah, that too—but to *know* her. What’s her deal? She says her name’s Candy, probs fake, but who cares? I’m Dexter, I don’t judge. She’s twirlin her hair, lookin at me like I’m a puzzle. “You’re weird, strings,” she says. Weird! Me! Pot callin kettle black, babe.

In today’s world you can find pretty much anything with a smartphone.

Man, sometimes, I get all sentimental, rememberin’ that movie’s lines: “Time flows like water, yesss, it does.” It’s eerie, yet beautiful. I do my magic on the back an’ hips, while my brain does its own twist. Oi, I even got some typos in my thoughts like "crumby" instead of "crummy" an’ "thrid" instead of "third" — who cares, ya?

Hunting Upland Birds in the Snow