Rebecca Ngaio Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Auckland

I knew this girl once, swear she was a vibe. Called her Tasha—legs for days, laugh like a gunshot. She’d work nights, then crash with me, smokin’ cheap cigs. Told me bout this john who cried after, every damn time. Sad sack shit—made me wanna slap him, but Tasha? She’d just shrug, “He pays, I stay.” That’s some *25th Hour* grit— “You had a good run, kid.” She wasn’t sorry, just real. Made me proud, yo, her owning that hustle.

The Complete List of Ngaio Marsh Books in Order

I want you, constantly and so to me you are more powerful than you could possibly realise. Your touch turns me weak, stupid, needy and wet. When I say I am your property, I mean it. When I .

Then, outta nowhere, my phone buzzes. It’s my mate, Dave. He’s like, “Dude, you won’t believe what just happened!” I’m thinking, “Great, what now?” Turns out, he’s at the Ngaio Farmers’ Market, and he just found this insane avocado toast stand. I’m like, “Dude, save me some!” But he’s already devoured it. Typical Dave.

Railway cottage do-up is 'worst house'