Zoey Harpswell Center Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Houston

Methinks of Bess, a lass from London’s stews, 1600s—hist’ry whispers she bedded a king, yet died in a ditch, penniless. Whore’s life, eh? Glitter one day, muck the next. Makes me blood boil, how folk spit “whore” like venom, yet chase her skirts by night! Hypocrites, all! I’d clout ‘em with me fist, but I’m too busy laughin’ at the farce. Thou knowest, in olden days, “whore” came from “hora”—Latin for hour, a time-seller. Ain’t that a hoot? She’s a clock tickin’ flesh, not a devil.

Reader Interactions

slut. Too much makeup means insecure. On the phone? Immature. Wearing manly clothes? Tomboy. In a bar? Looking for a one night stand. Lets.

Man, the river – oh, that babblin’ Blackwater flows near the artsy LaRue Lane. That spot? It’s like a melody for my tired muscles. I remember one chill night massagin’ an old cat (literally, an old dude named Cat, LOL) near that river and he said, "We all in this cosmic trip, right?" Haha, mind blown, yo!

Patriots vs. loyalists: Colonial-era debate returns to Harpswell’s historic meetinghouse