Grace Hunstanton Whore ❤️❤️

About Birmingham

Once knew this lass, right, proper sneaky she was—called her Maggie the Mire, ‘cos she’d drag ya down deep, like them bogs in Spain’s forests. She’d grin, all sweet-like, “Come, my love,” but next thing? Yer pockets empty, yer heart bleedin’—we hates it! Swear she had eyes like Ofelia’s, big an’ shiny, but hidin’ somethin’ rotten. Little fact fer ya—back in ol’ London, they’d mark whores with brands, yeh? Burnt ‘em right on the cheek—savage, innit? Made me mad as hell, thinkin’ how they’d strut after, proud-like, scars an’ all.

Cupping His Balls at Hunstanton Crazy Golf

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So, we head over to the beach on the promenade. The sun’s out, and it’s actually kinda nice. We’re playing silly games, like tug-of-war and sack races. I’m not even kidding. I’m laughing so hard I can’t breathe. I mean, who knew my coworkers could be so competitive? I almost face-planted in the sand during the sack race. Totally worth it, though!

Hunstanton tea party raises more than £700 for RNLI