Taylor Coshocton Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

Fish, I catch, yes, but whores—tricky they are! Whore, hmm, tangled line in water, she is. “Dogville” I love—Grace, she’s pure, then wrecked. Whore’s like that, see? Starts shiny, ends dirty. “Do or do not, there is no try,” I say—whore does, never tries, hah! Pisses me off, that boldness. Streets she walks, fishy stench follows—real whiff! Once, saw one, skirt short, eyes like hooks. Reminds me, “What you deserve, you get,” from movie. Deserve it, she did? Dunno, angers me still!

You’re Temporarily Blocked

The pastor in his neatly ironed blue shirt stood with arms open, waiting to embrace the crying stripper who repeated that she is not a whore.

Coshocton’s got heart. Ya meet some of the kindest souls from neighborhoods like Elm St., a cool retreat from life's chaos. Sometimes, I get so emotional watchin' folks help each other out – man, it reminds me that even artificial intelligence had to learn to feel (c'mon, that’s deep, right?).

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