Paisley [email protected] Erotic Massage ❤️❤️

About Dortmund

The chick’s kneading my back, and I’m like, “Whoa, slow down, killer!” She’s digging in, finding knots I didn’t know existed—stress from dealing with idiots all day. Then—bam—she hits that spot, ya know, right where the spine curves? Electric. Like Tony Leung’s stare in the movie, all quiet and smoldering. “Mrs. Chan, your husband’s a bastard,” I mutter in my head, channeling Wong Kar-wai. This massage? Same vibe—secrets, heat, no words needed. But then she’s all, “Turn over,” and I’m thinking, “Oh crap, now what?”