Sienna Cromwell Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Palmerston North

Makes me mad, tho—lads treat her like trash, callin’ her slag ‘n’ that. She’s more’n that, innit? Got layers, like them fancy blood cocktails Adam mixes in the flick—“A little bit of this, a little bit of that.” Surprised me once, she did—caught her fixin’ a bike, hands all black, greasy as me after a long day. Proper fit, I was gobsmacked—thought, “She’s one of us, my precious!” Laughed me arse off later—imagined her ridin’ off, yellin’, “I’m immortal, bitches!” like some undead queen.

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Then, we decide to hit up the Cromwell Golf Club. I’m not a golfer, but hey, why not? I grab a club, and I swear, I’m more likely to hit a tree than a ball. I swing, and whoosh! I miss completely. Sam’s laughin’ his head off. “You sure you’re not a pro?”

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