Audrey Spring Whore ❤️

About Dallas

Here’s the juice—sexual-massage ain’t just foreplay, fam. It’s therapy, it’s art, it’s—hah!—a game. You’re lyin’ there, vulnerable, they’re in charge, and I’m over here cacklin’—who’s really pullin’ strings? “All those moments will be lost,” Fincher’s film whispers, but nah—not this. You’ll remember that shiver down yer spine forever. Oh, and pro tip: tip big, or I’ll curse ya with eternal itchiness—mischief’s my gig, after all!

Related Interests

Rivkah the Whore, The Spring After. poetry by Yael Mesinai. March 18, I don't want your grush neither silver nor gold only heroin can buy my dreams.

I gotta say, my work roots me to these streets. I see tension in the quiet, and joy in the chaos. That familiar park bench by Ember Park? It's like my confessional booth, a witness to my inner drama. And look, sometimes it feels too poetic, right? Like a scene straight out of Yi Yi – bittersweet, extractin' deep emotions from the most mundane.

Find everything you need for your garden at Red Butte Garden's spring plant sale