Hazel Soissons Sexual Massage ❤️

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Hey, pal, lemme tell ya bout sexual-massage, alright? Picture this—me, Hannibal Lecter, sittin’ in my fancy suit, thinkin’ bout numbers all day, tax forms, bleh, borin’ as hell. Then bam, sexual-massage pops in my head, like a freaky lil escape. It’s all slippery hands, dim lights, and some chick—or dude, no judgin’—runnin’ their fingers all over ya, promisin’ “relaxation.” Ha! Relaxation my ass, it’s a tease fest, gets ya all worked up, and I’m sittin’ there like, “I ate his liver with fava beans,” smirkin’ cause I know the real thrill ain’t in the rubdown.

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As the day winds down, I’m exhausted but happy. Soissons, you crazy city, you’ve thrown me through the wringer today. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything. The people, the vibes, the unexpected moments. It’s all part of the ride.

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