If you call an ad purporting to be Milan Cavalli, caveat emptor, for her online photos are among the most commonly misappropriated images on the escort pages of the internet. Fake Milans from Atlanta to New York post fraudulent ads using her pictures.
The real Milan looks even better than her pictures, which depict a slender, petite Asian with awesomely cantilevered breasts. She lives in a large, well-kept apartment building in Los Angeles’ San Fernando Valley near a large shopping center with plenty of inexpensive, 24/7 parking, with easy access to two of the busiest freeways in LA. Parking will be the only inexpensive part of your visit. Milan is very pricey, but she’s worth every penny.
She responded to my voicemail with a text, inquired as to my stats and background, and texted me to her location. She opened the door, wearing 5 inch Louboutins pumps and form fitting, filmy black negligee which revealed more than it concealed. Her beauty outshines her pictures, and except for her bountiful boobs she’s tiny, like a living anime.
Despite her high heels, I had to tilt my head downward to meet the cautious kiss with which she greeted me. Non VIPs, kissing (and safe sex) are her only ways she’s cautious. In my arms, she was explosively audacious and energetic, and unforgettable, an almost indescribable experience of sensuality and passion. There is no one more beautiful and sensual than Milan.
She led me through her neat, well-appointed apartment to her freshly made bed.
“You’re gorgeous,” I said.
“Thank you.” We stood by her bedside, our bodies rocking and molding, her breast pressed into my pectorals. The air around her, perfumed by her smooth, cappuccino colored skin, intoxicated me. I stroked her hair, black at the roots, blonde at the ends, it crowned her beauty like the petals of a rare orchid.