Jasmine Navasota Whore ❤️❤️

About New York City

Fuckin’ hate the fakes, tho. Pretendin’ they’re pure – pisses me off. Leviathan nails it: “All power comes from God,” mayor smirks. Yeah, right, asshole. Whore’s honest, at least. No mask, just raw deal. I’d sip vodka, laughin’ at the irony. You? You get it, mate – life’s a shitshow. Whore’s the star, always.

We need you!

I packed my things into a small U-Haul. We were leaving the town I had always known, Houston, to go someplace I barely knew, a small town named Navasota.

Oh, by the way, my massage parlor is a hub of odd delights. Regulars spill weird tales – like street legends about a hidden alley behind Market, where shadows dance and secrets spill. Sometimes I laugh, sometimes I cry, often I just say, “We hates it!” to the cruel fate of endless monotony.

Reds, Wheats and Blues Festival returning to Navasota