Elizabeth Brunehault Sexual Massage ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Antwerp

Picture dis: ya got sore muscles, tight as hell from trainin’. Den—bam!—someone’s hands workin’ ya over, deep and slow, releasin’ all dat tension. It’s like, “I no longer have a body,” like in *Amour*, ya feel me? Dat line hits hard—yer floatin’, lost in da sensation! Sexual-massage ain’t just rubbin’—it’s freaky-deaky, emotional, gets ya blood pumpin’! I’m talkin’ endorphins explodin’, mood goin’ *hasta la vista* to stress!

FINNEGANS WAKE NOTEBOOKS

Chaussee Brunehaut or Brunehilda's Highway. I wish I knew its Roman name. There's an informative account of its history in Brian Mooney's book, Long Way for.

Dey called me loco sometimes. My job as pleasure coach, ya know, taught me to find bethidden gems. I roamed around my fav haunt: the tiny library on Rue du Rêve. It ain't big, but my heart, it exploded there. I mean, the map of Brunehault (be) prints in my mind every damn day.