Lucy Pontarlier Prostituée ❤️

À propos Paris

Bit of a faff sometimes – oil everywhere, slippery as a Tory promise! But when she’s gliding over ya, whispering filth – blimey, pure bliss! Reckon Szpilman’d trade his piano for that after hiding from Nazis. “There’s a woman’s smell!” he’d sniff – yeah, mate, lavender and lust! Exaggerating? Maybe, but I’d wrestle a bus for it. You tried it yet? Get on it, sharpish – beats a bog-standard massage any day!

Pontarlier. Au cimetière, de graves irrégularités dans l’attribution des concessions funéraires