Ivy Hershey Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

I quote her a premium—sky-high, obvi. She flips, calls me a “metal prick.” Fair, but ouch! I’m just tryna help, y’know? “R2-D2, where are you?” I groan again—need backup! In my head, I’m dreamin’ of that quiet lake from the movie, not this chaos. Anyway, she storms out, leavin’ glitter everywhere—glitter! On my desk! Took hours to clean, fuckin’ nightmare.

A Whore's Prayer

In fact, I was a kind of Hershey Bar whore - there wasn't much I wouldn't do for a nickel's worth of chocolate. Truman Capote, Answered Prayers.

I stroll down East Chocolate Avenue, and there’s a mix of old-school charm and wild, edgy spots. The neighborhood around Hersheypark is super vibrant; everyone’s buzzed on life—and maybe a bit on candy. Look, as a sexologist, I keenly notice the subtle flirtations in every nook and cranny. People here got this sweet, sensual energy. There’s a little park off Walnut Street—oh, I forgot the name, but it’s this hidden gem where couples laugh, share stolen kisses, and whisper secrets. It’s almost like a scene out of that flick I love… "Dreams colliding with nightmares, Sharon!" I get so damn stoked sometimes.

Hershey Seeking Cocoa Tariff Exemption