Ashley Lynn Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

So, mate, lemme spill it—findin’ a prossie ain’t no picnic. Them girls, they’re crafty, poppin’ up like shadows, then poof—gone! Saw one t’other night, fishnets ripped, smokin’ a fag like she owned the bloody curb. “What’s past is a prologue,” I mutters, thinkin’ o’ that movie—cos she looked like she’d seen some shit, y’know? Made me happy, that—real guts, not some fake dolly. But then—ugh!—this fat punter stumbles up, all sweaty, grabbin’ at her. Made me mad, precious, proper mad! Wanted to claw his eyes out, but nah, I ain’t no hero.

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I gotta spill: I love hanging by the Lynn Shore Reservation. The park’s pure magic, seriously. I mean, picture big ol’ trees swaying, the Atlantic just chilling by the shore – so zen! Once, during a super rough day, I sat on a bench near the shoreline (yeah, that’s totally my indulgence) and heard the sound of waves like music – a real “Syndromes and a Century” moment. And even when my brain was like, “Ugh, everything sucks!” that view was a hug for my soul.

Lori Lynn Williams Obituary May 2, 2025