Every mid-May Victoria Silvstedt pushes pudding into the mouth of her older fat French benefactor by the Eden Roc hotel pool while keeping her eyes out for her next human IRA. At forty-one, Silvstedt is the Bartolo Colon of gold digging. If you wanted to blast a load in Bartolo Colon’s bottom, snap a keepsake, and start a new life under the name Claude in the former Eastern bloc. Everybody has their kink. Give your wallet a reflexive tap in your back pocket as she passes. She’s gone digital, dumbass. By the time you hear Victoria Silvstedt giggle, the balance in your checking account just went to zero. File a report with Interpol. Ask specifically for a detective she’s not blown and lie to your friends about how it all went down.
NOTE: You can see Victoria Silvstedt flashing her bare twat getting out of a water taxi at the Hotel earlier in the day on EgotasticAllStars. No panties, no problem. This is war.
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