Abigail Differdange Citas Sexuales ❤️❤️

Acerca de Tijuana

Now, don’t ye go thinkin’ it’s all doom—some prostitutas got sass that’d make Davy Jones blush! One told me, “Jack, ye smell like a dead fish,” and I near fell over laughin’—true, tho, I’d been at sea too long. They’re survivors, these lasses—dodgin’ coppers, hagglin’ prices, turnin’ tricks faster’n I can swipe a bottle o’ rum. Bet ye didn’t know—back in ol’ London, 1700s, they had “harlot’s directories”—like a menu fer yer naughty bits! “Silencio,” as Lynch’d say—kept it hush-hush, but every gent knew where to look.