Chloe Scituate Whore ❤️

About New York City

I’m sittin’ here thinkin’, man, if I was a pimp, I’d be rollin’ in it! Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but who cares? Prostitutes got stories—wild ones! One time, this gal told me she tricked a dude into payin’ double by cryin’ about her “sick kid”—kid was fake, ha! Total con, I freakin’ love it! “Sell me this pen!”—she’d sell ya her sob story and her ass in one go!

You’re Temporarily Blocked

she was a whore and a bitch and she was Mr Mayes whore. Tagged: whore. Depositions. NB: these transcriptions are a work in progress and are provided without.

Oh, and the locals – folks, they’re like the footprints of time. We swap stories near Addison’s Cafe on Main Street. The aroma from the local bakery on Front Alley? Man, that scent can lift your spirit high, even when life is blue. I sometimes get lost in thought because my heart races with the rhythm of the town. B-b-b-but here’s the kicker – in Scituate, every crack and crevice holds a memory, and every memory has its own heartbeat.

Rollover leaves vehicle on its side in Scituate