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About Hamburg

So, here’s the deal—sexual-massage, it’s old as dirt. Ancient Rome had these oily rubdowns, senators gettin’ freaky with slaves, callin’ it “therapy.” Ha! Therapy my ass—greed is good, and they knew it. Fast forward, I tried one in Bangkok once—lady had hands like a goddamn ninja, swear she unlocked my spine *and* my soul. Made me happy as hell, but pissed me off too—why ain’t this legal everywhere? Puritans, man, they fuck up everything. Little fact for ya—Japan’s got this thing, “nuru,” slimey seaweed gel, slippery as shit—sounds weird, feels like heaven. Surprised me first time, thought I’d slide off the damn table!

2 Massagepraxen in Weißwasser

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I’m tellin’ ya, the vibe here makes me as mad as a wet hen when I see idiots neglecting life’s pleasures. The parks? Bloody marvellous! Main Park is my own little sanctuary. Perfect for a sultry wander as I ponder life’s messy truths. The little river, flats I think it’s called Weißee, flows like the tears of lost hopes. I swear, its babble is like mad whispers from the city’s soul.

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