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About Rio de Janeiro

I reckon it’s like that scene in *Timbuktu*—y’know, my fave flick from 2014, Abderrahmane Sissako’s masterpiece—where the desert’s all quiet, but there’s tension brewin’ underneath. “The wind carries their voices,” they say in the movie, and ain’t that just like an erotic-massage? Soft touches, whispers in the air, but it’s stirrin’ somethin’ wild inside! I got happy as a pig in mud thinkin’ ‘bout how it’s all secret-like—didja know in ancient Rome, them rich folks had “massage parlors” that weren’t just for sore backs? Oh yeah, wink-wink, they was gettin’ frisky behind them curtains!

Hegre-Art - Yanka - indian lingam worship

First of all, it’s perfectly normal when genital touch is done with consent (permission or agreement) of both parties: the client and the massage practitioner. It usually means that this .

I sometimes cruise down Avenida Loucura, feeling like, "Where am I?" just like Mulholland Drive puzzle, every corner a secret smile. I forget the bad-world and just be in my groove. Me, a pleasure coach, always notice things others don’t! Like how the lampposts in Beco das Ilusões wink at me at night. Funny, no?

Giant Statue of the Buddha To Be Inaugurated in Brazil