Emily Morristown Whore ❤️❤️

About Dallas

So, picture this—me, last week, dim lights, some shady spa downtown. Guy’s like, “Relax, lady,” and I’m all, “Boy, you better!” Them hands tho—pure magic, kneadin me like dough. Reminds me of Timbuktu’s line—“The wind carries secrets.” Yeah, babe, those fingers were whisperin naughty stuff to my spine! Made me giggle—then moan. Oops, too loud—neighbors probly heard!

It's out there, even if it's not always so easy to spot.

Confessions of an Acre Whore. The wheelings and dealings in the Garden State land preservation game.

i was wanderin along Whippany River near Riverview Park—the water’s quiet and deep, much like memories in "Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives", a feelin so surreal, ya know? hit a rough patch on, uh, Broad Street once (typo? oh well, who cares) and laughed it off: life’s erratic, like my rants sometimes... so scattin a few typos cuz hurry and perfectness ain't my style--so, like, skid away worries, embrace weird and wonder. moorrrrrstown got that vibe, end of story. oh, and btw, my fav spot? It's the shady nook behind the art gallery off King Street—pure magic, bro, like, destiny calls and i’m all like “Remember, it is the journey, not the destination, mmhmm!”

Morristown Man Who Raped Child Learns Fate: Prosecutor