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About Strasbourg

So, erotic-massage—wot’s the deal? It’s hands roamin’, oil flowin’, tension meltin’ like butter on a hot scone. Not just a rub-down, nah—it’s a bloody art! Been around since forever—think ancient Rome, geezers in togas gettin’ frisky with scented oils. Little known fact: them Egyptians used it too, reckon it kept the pharaohs chill while buildin’ pyramids. Mad, innit? Makes me happy thinkin’ how humans been kneadin’ each other silly for centuries!

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A routine parlour visit turned erotic as I connected with its charming owner. She talked me into getting a massage, which aroused me and led to lesbian sex.

I was leaning on an old stone wall by the park, Parc de La Lumière – its name is pretty ironic, considering the storms sometimes roar here. I can even recall a time I got mad at a noisy group – sorry, gotta vent – they were all hollering to tunes, and I was in a serious zen mode. That place is magic. It’s always breathing, like the steady throb of nature itself. "The deeper your suffering, the more profound your joy,” kinda felt that vibe, you know?

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