Chloe Kadima Zoran Erotic Massage ❤️❤️❤️

About Bnei Brak

It’s all slow, tho, like *Turin Horse*—no rush, just vibes. “Everything’s gone to ruin,” that’s another line—feels like my back before the massage, all knotted up like a pretzel on crack. Then them hands hit ya—BAM!—and it’s like, “Oh shit, I’m alive!” Sometimes I’m layin’ there, thinkin’—is this legal? Is this porn? Nah, it’s art, baby! Art! Like Tarr’s long-ass shots, but with more moaning. Pro tip: don’t fart durin’ it—learned that the hard way, fam. Stank up the room, masseuse gave me the death stare—SURPRISED me how quick she flipped from zen to “get the fuck out!”

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But then, as I’m enjoying my cake, I see this guy outside. He’s yelling about something. Turns out, he’s mad about the new parking rules on HaYarden Street. I mean, who isn’t? It’s like they want us to park on Mars or something. I can’t even with these rules.

Holocaust survivor, 99, visits graves of fallen soldiers every day: 'You can be proud of your heroic sons'