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About Frankfurt

Well, hello there, ya filthy animal! Sexual-massage, huh? Lemme tell ya, it’s a wild ride. I’m talkin slippery hands, oiled-up skin, and tension meltin like butter. Reminds me of “The Gleaners and I” — ya know, my fave flick. Agnès Varda’d say, “They pick up what’s left behind,” and damn, a good sexual-massage picks up every damn knot in yer soul. I’ve seen it, felt it — hell, I’ve *lived* it.

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Erotic massage, Masturbate, Cunnilingus (give) for extra charge, Kissing if good chemistry, Cunnilingus (give) for extra charge.

Then there’s the Rathausplatz, smack dab in the center, where the town hall stands proud, rough-hewn and real. I swear, every time I stroll by with my massage bag swinging, I hear faint echoes of Agnès talkin’ about "the truthful beauty of the everyday" – yeah, weird but awesome! And oh! The church of St. Bartholomä on Kirchstraße… man, its bell towers kinda remind me of Scoob’s barks: “Ruh-roh!” every time they ring out at odd hours, makin’ me laugh, even on my mad days.

Alexander Gerst