Oh, sure, make fun of me for collecting women’s magazines, but every dangerous step I take onto the portico of my Pied-à-terre each month is a step I take for you. The slings and arrows of the middle school skateboard crew who mock my choices of periodicals have no idea of the riches contained within the likes of Marie Claire, the Italian edition, wherein wicked hot Barbara Palvin is without clothes and barely covered and quite wet and all-around uber-sextastic for the eyes of the more ardent gentleman ogler. How could I not do this for you>
Barbara Palvin remains the hottest woman I know named Barbara. Seeing her lucky hands violating our right to her even sweeter peeks makes me both angry and at the same time thrilled by a tease from this object d’ lust. Mostly I guess I’m just jealous of her digits. Oh, how nice that must feel. Like crushed velvet on heaven. Enjoy.