Makayla Keene Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Houston

Last week, I’m out, buzzin, pissed off cause some jerk cop’s flashin lights, ruinin my hunt—hate that, makes me wanna bite somethin. Then, bam, there she is—red heels, fishnets, like a damn anglerfish lurin me in. “How much?” I ask, all smooth, voice like silk over a blade. She smirks, “More than you got, fancy pants.” Cheeky! Love that, got me laughin—happy as a shark in blood. “I’m not a child,” she snaps, straight outta “Ten,” that sass, that fire—surprised me, gotta say, didn’t expect a street gal to hit me with philosophy.

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You would never be able to get over your girlfriend having been a prostitute in her past. Because she will think about all the men that she was with and being.

There's this park called Harris Park near Maple and 4th. It’s cute! About joggin’, leafin’ it all behind. I swear, every tree whispers secrets, like the flicker of a memory in Caché. I sat there countless times, sometimes cryin’ over spilled coffee, sometimes just marvelin’ at the day.

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