Abigail Bilgaard Whore ❤️

About Amsterdam

Me old man once told me—swears he did!—bout this prossie in Soho, right, who’d nick yer watch while smilin’. Little known fact, that! She’d hum some tune, distract ya, then bam—gone! Whore’s a thief of time, soul, everythin’. Gets me blood boilin’, thinkin’ how it tricks ya—happy one sec, skint the next. “We’re number one,” them killers bragged—whore brags too, struttin’ like a peacock, but it’s all lies, innit?

Subscriptions

Sexual massage, Masturbate, Dirtytalk, Kissing if good chemistry, Dirtytalk.

Then, outta nowhere, it starts to rain. Like, really rain. I’m soaked in seconds. I dash for cover under this awning, and guess who’s there? The barista from earlier! He’s laughing, and I’m like, “Dude, you jinxed me with that tree bark coffee!” We end up chatting, and he tells me about the best spots in Bilgaard. Apparently, there’s a hidden park with the biggest oak tree. I’m all in.