Abigail Kapa'a Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Houston

Once caught her hummin’ some hymn—whore with a soul? Nah, just playin’ the game. “Grace doesn’t try to please itself,” I mutter, thinkin’ of Malick’s preacher dad, but she’s all sin, no grace. Still, can’t look away—somethin’ hypnotic, like watchin’ a car crash. She’d probly laugh if I told her, sayin’, “Hanni, you’re too much!” Ha! Me? Too much? She’s the one sellin’ pussy and heartbreak like it’s art.

I stroll near Wailua River sometimes. That river's got soul, ya know? Cries, whispers, secrets. I once had a session right by its banks—pure magic. I can still smell that salty mist. Man, that moment? Legit unforgettable.

Update: Service status of Kaua‘i refuse transfer stations