tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31494048080693328962010-09-25T17:05:46.864+02:00Graciehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05760928200957963600noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3149404808069332896.post-87385592251336085742008-10-20T03:16:00.003+02:002008-10-20T05:32:04.464+02:00

I don't really have a type, unless you consider 'wealthy' to fall under such a heading. And so, when Maggs asked if I'd be interested in dressing up the arm of the American consular for a third time, a man known to be quite well-off, I was eager to accept. Within 30 minutes of giving Maggs the okay, a young courier arrived, unabashedly ogling my perfect breasts as he handed me the cream-colored

Graciehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05760928200957963600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3149404808069332896.post-45006714557768805992008-10-16T20:28:00.001+02:002008-10-16T20:42:07.465+02:00

Greetings, and welcome to Memoirs of an American Whore. There was a time in the not so distant past when I might have apologized for the salacious title, but it would appear that immorality is flavor of the decade, and I see no reason to provide even a cursory warning, as the only people interested in this subject matter are bound to be heathens themselves.I'm not quite the same category of whore

Graciehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05760928200957963600noreply@blogger.com0