Just on the new avatar photo, yes, it is me, but disturbingly, it is secondary to a "why do I agree to these things" moment, hmm? Why do people keep saying to me "you should make more of yourself"?
Just to shut them up, I agreed to "them" (no names/location) giving me a quick titivate the other morning ...
I mean, WTAF happened to my "Pig Iron Bob" 'brows? I've never had such a plucking ... summoning and bastardising Wittgenstein's Proposition 7, I know whereof I speak ... (Wovon man nicht sprechen kann, darüber muss man schweigen).
And I couldn't tell you the last time my lips had even a remotely ing acquaintance with lippy. Thank fuck I escaped before they got out the mascara & shadow.
Although I didn't escape a "serum" treatment ... just a protein based solution, that when it dries tightens the skin ... back in my day, we used a cheaper self-serviced version ... it certainly wasn't $35 per mL, often we'd even be paid to extract it ...lol
And the tits, Jaysus, Mary and the poor wee donkey, what are they doing up there? They were never that perky in their heyday, I blame the Lululemon sports bra I wore this morning to stop the nipples doing their chapel hat peg impersonations.
I understand they mean well (my interlocutors, not the nipples ... that would be weird), but I end up looking like an upper north shore "doctor's wife" (a Sydney NSW AU thing, like a Karen, but a helluva lot more terrifying with far too much botulinum toxin in her system), with a stick up her arse because the barista screwed up her double shot oat milk latte complaining to the "girls" at Pilates ... never mind that's how I used to be pimped out back in the day, "you'll love Petra, her USP is upper north shore doctor's wife, she's even qualified, but if she offers you a French 34, it may not be quite what you think it is" ... ROTFLMAO
I far prefer my old addled street hure that's fallen out of a car in St Peters Lane Darlo (IYKYK) at 0347hrs with what remains of my knickers around my ankles screaming "Take me back to the Taxi Club you arsehole" look ...

Just a rambling thought from a retired whore ... In the old days, most of the guys fucking me would come quickly, I preferred it anyway (less mess than blowing their slime onto your clothes/face/hair, not to mention no dry cleaning bills) some after only a few thrusts inside me. Just lift my skirt or dress, relax, then slide down onto their swollen shaft, squeeze and relax that pubococcygeal muscle in tune as you ride them. They'll have blown their entire load within a few minutes at most. Slide off them, go to the loo, blown out any excess lube and mucus, put a fresh Carefree pad in your knickers to soak up any stray mucus and lube that could leak out, back onto the street or club then onto the next guy. Simple.