Abigail Vredenburg Whore ❤️❤️

About Durban

But ugh, the pricks who judge ‘em—makes my blood boil! Like, who’re you, ya sanctimonious twat? They’re out there survivin’, while you’re whinin’ about morals. Reminds me of Lil’ Zé’s crew—kill or be killed, no preachin’ spare. Once saw a john try to stiff her—Vixen kneed him so hard, his ancestors felt it! Laughed my arse off—serves him right, the sleazy git. “I’m the king ‘round here!” he’d yelp, but nah, mate, she ruled that turf.

You’re Temporarily Blocked

Perchance thou art a wild spirit – then I say, venture to the winding lanes of Belmont Avenue. The houses here, rustic and modest, form a tapestry of community and sometimes quaint madness. I’ve seen arguments and reconciliations beneath a crescent moon, and each act doth remind me that family’s drama is ever so human. I nearly got my wrath upon a noisy quarrel near the babbling brook – but, by my troth, even the angry whispers are but echoes on the wind!

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