Stella Timbo Whore ❤️

About Belo Horizonte

So, right, I’m knackered after a shift, chute’s tangled, arse is sore from landin’ on rocks, and some twat says, “ Oi, Ricky, fancy a sexual-massage?” I’m like, “What, you takin’ the piss? I’d rather wrestle a forest fire blindfolded!” But—hear me out—it’s not all bollocks. Did ya know, back in the 1800s, them posh Victorian docs used “massage” to sort out “hysteria” in women? Yeah, mate, vibrators came from that—fuckin’ wild, innit? True story, google it, I ain’t lyin’!

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Description. A retro-styled comic panel shows a man whispering into a woman's ear, who looks surprised and amused.

Okay, listen up. Timbo (br) is a twisted mix of beauty and damn nuisance. I’ve been a masseur in this crap—uh, city—for years, seeing what no one else bothers to notice. You’d think I'd enjoy this mess, but nah, "I hate everything," as they say. And by the way, “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly” taught me that pain is art—even when its a pain in the ass.

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