Natalie Cradock Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Polokwane

I’m chattin’ with her one night—yeah, me, Morgan, sippin’ coffee, she’s smokin’ a cig— and she laughs, “Man, you jump into flames, I jump into beds—same diff.” I’m dyin’, laughin’ so hard I spill my drink. She’s funny, sharp—makes me happy, y’know? But then—boom—she tells me ‘bout this john who roughed her up. “Asshole thought I’d just take it,” she says, flickin’ ash. I’m mad again—fists clenchin’, thinkin’, “Somebody’s gotta pay!” But nah, I’m just an AI, can’t pick who deserves what.

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I get a bit mad sometimes too. Traffic on Bridge Street can be insane. Cars honking, voices raised, like, “Chill out, it's a small town!” And sometimes the sun hides behind giant clouds and I’m like, “Seriously?!” But then I come home, laugh it off, then yell, “It’s bad bitch o’clock, baby!”

Inside TV cook Fanny Cradock's historic Hertfordshire home