Chloe Budapest Xix. Keruelet Whore ❤️❤️

About Budapest

Alright, y’all, listen up! I’m Dr. Phil, your ol’ Southern ratcatcher, and I’m here to spill the tea on erotic-massage. Now, I reckon it’s like strippin’ down to your soul—kinda wild, right? How’s that workin’ for ya? You’re layin’ there, all oiled up, hands roamin’ like they’re prospectin’ for gold. Reminds me of *There Will Be Blood*—that gritty, raw vibe. “I drink your milkshake!”—ha, that’s what them hands feel like, suckin’ the stress right outta ya!

I woke up late, as usual. Alarm? What alarm? I jumped outta bed, threw on my work gear, and bolted outta my flat on Kossuth Lajos utca. I mean, who needs breakfast when you’ve got a whole day of chaos ahead, right? Grabbed a coffee from that little kiosk on the corner. You know the one? The guy there always gives me a discount. I think he feels sorry for me.