Grace Fort Carson Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

So, picture this—I’m at this dive bar, right? This chick, total pro, rolls in, fishnets ripped like she fought a lawnmower and lost. She’s workin’ the room, and I’m like, “Honey, I’ve seen better moves in a silent film!” Made me laugh, tho—her hustle’s realer than half these posers. Reminds me of that line, “Something’s brewing beneath the surface”—she’s got secrets, probs could blackmail the mayor. Little known fact: back in the 1800s, whores in Paris ran underground gambling dens—sneaky bitches, outsmartin’ cops while wearin’ corsets tighter than my grip on a troublemaker.

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Ok, gotta let loose: I’ve typed so fast, luv, gotta count my typos… like: bruther, gr8, awsm, rad, numb, luv, owt, dunno, gr8, ohwk, lol, yeap, yup, smokey, scribbly, and oh my gosh, thank ya! Each moment here is a slammin’ match of heart and soul, a real-life drama show. Brother, if you ever wanna feel alive, you jump right into Fort-Carson. Just remember those words from "Moolaadé": "You got the power, man!" and feel it, dude!

Soldier who was charged for cocaine distribution worked as security at busted underground club