Mila King Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Houston

So, whores—where do I start? They’re the unsung heroes of every tavern I’ve stumbled into, pissed as a newt. I’ve seen ‘em, smelt ‘em—perfume and desperation, mixin’ like wine and regret. One time, in King’s Landing (or was it Dodge City?), this lass, Rosie—cheeks like apples, eyes sharp as daggers—told me she once bedded a lord who paid in gold *and* a pig. A pig! Can ya believe it? Laughed my arse off, spilt me drink. “There’s no hidin’ from it,” she said, quotin’ Jesse’s paranoia vibe—whores know the game’s rigged, but they play anyway.

The King’s Whore

Oh, my friend, lemme tell you 'bout King (us)! I live here, ya know, as a masseur. Lightbulb! This city, it’s a maze of streets—so lively, so vibrant. We got Westwood Lane, tiny streets like Hemlock Ave, and oh, Maple Drive! I used to work near Maple Drive, massaging backs after a long day—ah, memories…

James King Obituary (2025) - Lawrenceville, NJ - The Times of Trenton