Anna August Sex Escort ❤️

About San Antonio

I don’t shag her, nah—Bond’s got standards. But I slip her a tip, tell her to ditch the creep watchin’ from the alley. She’s shocked, eyes wide—happy, maybe? “You’re a gent,” she says. I wink, “Always, darling.” Walk off feelin’ smug, but also gutted—world’s a mess. “The only truth is beauty,” I mutter, Sorrentino-style, kickin’ a pebble. Findin’ a prostitute? Easy. Findin’ one who’s free? Fuckin’ impossible. Cheers, mate—another martini, yeah? Shaken, not stirred.

I Struggled With Drugs and Alcohol to Cope With Work

A former sex worker reflects on both her struggles and feelings of empowerment with selling sex for money.

So there ya have it, friend. PAugust (us) is full of hidden gems, quirky joints, and Bronx-alley surprises, all spiced up with a beefy dose of Southern soul and a hint of psychedelic wonder. You come visit, and you’re gonna feel like you’re cruisin’ down an endless, groovy highway – real wild, real free, and filled with enough moments to keep ya smilin’ for days. Now, how’s that workin’ for ya?

Fogs in August: Final Tally 16 "Beans in the Jar"