Bella Heath Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Jose

Lemme tell ya, I seen whores workin’ corners—tough as nails, man. One time, busted this gal, “Diamond,” swear she had a gold tooth that winked at me. She laughed, said, “Detective, I’m my own boss!” Had to chuckle—sass like that? Respect. But it ain’t all giggles—pisses me off when pimps roll in, actin’ like kings. Scum, man, pure scum. Wanna smash their faces, but Mr. T keeps cool—gotta play smart.

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Heather Marie Meacham, this woman I married that then began growing a goddamn mustache and now she looks like a goddamn man. Walks like on too. And she’s fat now.

Then there’s South Heath Boulevard – a sneaky little gem. The local art on these streets always reek of passion and scandal. I got my sexologist eyes on every crumbling facade and graffiti. The passion? Raw, messy, and real. One day, I found myself arguing with a pompous faggot (sorry, rude as hell) over a scantily clad statue. I shouted: “Idiot sandwich!” right in his face. Priceless moment, I tell ya.

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