Luna Budapest Xvii. Keruelet Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Szombathely

I reckon she’s got stories, aye, ones thee’d never guess. Like, didst thou know, back in ol’ London—Shakespeare’s time, mind ye—some o’ these lasses were called “Winchester Geese”? Worked near the Bishop’s land, they did, and the church taxed ‘em! Hypocrisy, mate, made me proper mad—fat priests coin-pinchin’ from a gal’s skirts. “Pull the trigger, Kee,” they’d say in the film, but these birds pulled no triggers—just survived.

At the pub, it’s packed. I’m talking about the kind of crowd that makes you feel alive. We’re laughing, sharing stories, and I’m feeling all the good vibes. But then, outta nowhere, someone spills a drink all over me. I’m soaked! I’m like, “Great, just what I needed!” But instead of getting mad, I just laugh it off.