Mila Budapest Xiii. Keruelet Sex Escort ❤️

About Pecs

Well, hello there, ya little morsel! Escorts, huh? Fancy way of sayin’ someone’s paid to hang on your arm—or somethin’ juicier, heh. Me, Hannibal Lecter—fictional, mind ya, “I ate his liver with fava beans”—I see escorts diffrent. Not just meat on the market, nah, they’re like fine wine, curated, y’know? Reminds me of *Carol*, that flick I drool over—Todd Haynes, 2015. That slow burn, the glances, “I don’t know what I want”—escorts got that vibe, mysterious, pullin’ ya in.

Started off at the shop on Váci út. You know, that busy street where all the cars zoom by like they’re in a race? I’m just chillin’, sippin’ my coffee, when this dude rolls in with a car that looks like it’s been through a war. I mean, c’mon, bro, did you drive it through the Danube?