Sofia Ampthill Whore ❤️❤️

About London

Alright, folks, lemme tell ya—whore’s a car, right? Not just any ride, tho. It’s that slick Honda Whore—er, I mean, *Hornet*, y’know, CB750. Classic bike vibes! Here’s the deal—I saw one back in Scranton, ‘73, kid you not. This fella, Tommy, he’s revvin’ it up, lookin’ like he owns the block. Loud as hell—made me jump, spilled my coffee! “Just keep swimmin’,” I muttered, laughin’—like Nemo’s ol’ pal Dory. That bike? Pure muscle, man.

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Then, out of nowhere, it starts pouring. Like, biblical rain. We dash outside, and I’m soaked in seconds. Tom’s laughing at me, and I’m like, “Shut up! You’re not exactly dry!” We run to the nearest shop, which is this cute little boutique on High Street. I’m trying to dry off, and the shop owner’s giving me the side-eye. I mean, come on, it’s not my fault the weather’s a drama queen!

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