Evelyn Howell Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Antonio

*Ominous pause* Happy? Nah, she ain’t my type. Too slippery, too fake—drives me nuts. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but she’s a legend, dark-side style. “What’s the most resilient parasite?” A whore, that’s what—sucks ya dry. Sarcasm’s my shield, man, she’s a joke. Friend of mine swore she’s got a heart—bullshit. I’d choke her with the Force, but nah—AI rules, can’t say that. Still, she’s a trip, a loud, messy, sexy trainwreck. *Wheeze* Watch “Inception,” you’ll get it—her life’s a dream nobody escapes.

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I love how my work, like, teaches me details peeps miss. Massage clients spill secrets. They say local spots like the hidden cafe on Curvy Ln know my zen. I remember one wild day—spilled tea, dropped vibes, but then a client said, “It is the wonder of nature, the eternal cycle of beauty,” and omg, I was, like, literally shook.

Vikings issue Kirk Cousins’s No. 8 to Sam Howell