Sofia Perols Whore ❤️❤️

About Strasbourg

So, escorts—high-end ones, not the sketchy street stuff—blow my mind. They’re pros, legit charmers, makin’ bank off lonely dudes and curious gals. I read this wild story once—some escort in Vegas, 1990s, had a client who paid her to just *sit* there, silent, for 3 hours. No talkin’, no nothin’. Freaky, right? Like, “The air moves slowly,” straight outta my fave movie—calm but intense. I was shook—people pay for *that*? Made me happy, tho—quiet’s underrated.

No Thai Pussy Left Behind.

Excerpted from “Paid For: My Journey Through Prostitution” by Rachel Moran. Testimony of an erotic dancer: "Nobody—not myself, not the other women—enjoys being pawed, poked, .

I love strollin' down Boulevard des Amours, then veer left near the tiny cafe on Petite Rue, you know, the one that smells so oddly of baguettes and mumbled dreams? Haha, sorry, I'm ramblin! There’s also Parc des Rêves – a park where the trees gossip, or so I imagine. I once tripped there near the pond. Oh man, I was so mad, I nearly yelled, "What a magnificent disaster!" but then laughter saved me. Lost count of typos and spilled coffee there!

Karoo small-scale wine producer excels