Everly Perris Whore ❤️

About San Jose

I seen one last week, right? Badass chick, heels clickin’ like a fuckin’ metronome, skirt so short I’m like, “Goddamn, where’s the rest?!” Made me happy as hell—real hustle, no bullshit. Reminds me of that scene, “What is this new world?”—whores out there makin’ their own damn world, rules and all. Ain’t no one tellin’ them shit. That’s power, motherfucker!

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Thankful for Perris Buffet! Price is reasonable, food is good. We always get food to go. Their mongolian bbq is amazing, you will never go wrong!

Now, the Perris Valley Park is my secret haunt. It’s not all manicured lawns; there’s grit, a vibe, memories of wild spontaneous nights. Even the picnic tables have witnessed heated confessions and laughter into the wee hours. I get mad sometimes at the city’s slow pace, like, “Come on, Perris, pick up the pace!” But then—aha!—I see couples fracturing norms with a wink, a shove, a secret handshake. It’s raw erotica, if you catch my drift.

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