Rebecca Bolligen Whore ❤️❤️

About Bern

So, *whore*—where do I start? It’s like shoppin’ for somethin’ you don’t admit to yer preacher. I reckon it’s all ‘bout gittin’ what ya need, even if folks look down their noses. Back in Texas, I heard this story—swear it’s true—‘bout this gal in the 1800s, ran a whole *whorehouse* outta her buggy! Called it “mobile pleasure,” ha! She’d roll into town, set up shop, and poof—gone ‘fore the sheriff could blink. Crafty as hell, made me laugh my boots off! Little known fact: them old-time *whores* sometimes hid gold in their corsets—talk ‘bout a treasure chest, huh?

Related internet links

Wanna know a secret? I love takin’ long walks by the small river there – uh, I think it’s called the Bolli Rivulet. Nah, cool, right? Sometimes I get all mushy thinkin’ ’bout secrets and hearts bruised by everyday life. “Everything’s gonna blaze in glory,” I joke, mixing that with some movie feels – pure poetic madness.

The rise and fall of André Dosé