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Me, I’d kill for one now. Back’s knackered from pacing these damp cells, barking at idiots. Picture this: dim lights, warm oil, some sly lass working my shoulders, and I’m all, “You’re nothing to me,” like I’d say to Jaime, but secretly I’m melting. That’s the kicker—control slips away, and it’s bloody terrifying. Surprised me first time I tried it, years back. Some chick in King’s Landing, hands like a damn sorceress, had me purring in ten minutes flat. “I’ll always be a part of you,” she hummed—straight outta *Blue*, and I nearly wept. Me! Weeping! Pathetic, but true.

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Intimate massage; 69 Position; Pornstar Experience (PSE); Tantric massage; Ball Licking and Sucking. West-Hill · Mount-Olive-Silverstone-Jamestown · Sainte-Anne.

I gotta be honest, man. Sometimes I slipp up––I get in my head. Like the comical, funny panic of Gustave when his plans went sideways. I get mad at little things: a busted lamp post (sry, I always forget how it looks) or an overly chatty neighbor. But then I laugh––life’s too short, skippin mistakes like me when I type "ovur" instead of "over" so many times. Man, I even once typed "amazin" three times in one sentence… oops!

Most Somali-speaking Torontonians live in Etobicoke, census shows