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About Leicester

Sometimes I wonder—Llewyn’d prob bang an escort, write a song bout it. “Where’s its pussy?”—he’d ask, lost in his haze, missin the point. Me? I’d tip extra, just for the balls it takes. Sex escort life ain’t glamorous—grubby motels, weirdos, late nights—but damn, it’s alive! Exaggeratin? Maybe, but who cares? It’s raw, messy, and fuckin human. Maniacal grin, “Here’s Johnny!”—that’s my take, buddy!

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I don't remember much but Steve is a CEO of Rogers Inc. and Bucky is his assistant or a temp or something and one day they're having a private.

First off, I’m a scientist, right? So I’m all about the lab life. But today? Today was a wild ride. I strolled down Cluny Square, grabbin’ a coffee from that tiny café, The Coffee Pot. You know the one? The barista, bless her, was all smiles. I thought, “This is gonna be a good day.” Spoiler alert: it wasn’t.

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