Hazel Caserta Sexual Massage ❤️❤️❤️

About Bari

Alright, listen up. Sexual-massage. I hate everything. Some oily hands rubbin’ ya down—sounds like a damn trap. Like in *Oldboy*, “Laugh and the world laughs with you.” But ain’t nobody laughin’ when you’re slippery as a fish. Paid a gal once—tiny shop, shady neon sign buzzin’. She’s kneadin’ me like dough, I’m thinkin’, “This is bullshit.” Tension’s supposed to melt, right? Nope. Felt like a wrestling match—her vs. my knotted-up back. Little known fact: Ancient Greeks did this crap too. Called it “massage with benefits.” Horny bastards.

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Finally, I plopped down on my couch, ready to chill. I thought about all the weird stuff that happened. Caserta is wild, man. It’s got this charm, but it can throw you for a loop. I wouldn’t trade it for anything, though.

San Francisco counterculture legend behind bell-bottoms craze dies at 84