Sadie Castenaso Sexual Massage ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Bari

Oi mate, sexual-massage, innit? Bloody hell, what a topic! Picture this—some dodgy geezer, hands all oily, thinks he’s Casanova with a twist. I’m cackling already—pathetic! Reminds me of *Margaret*, yeah? That bit where she’s all, “You’re so full of shit!”—perfect for these wankers who reckon a rubdown’s deep art. Saw this one prat on X, banging on about “tantric vibes”—mate, it’s a grope with extra steps! Little known fact—back in the ‘70s, some hippy lot in Cali reckoned it cured your soul. Bollocks! Just a posh excuse to get your kit off.

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First of all, it’s perfectly normal when genital touch is done with consent (permission or agreement) of both parties: the client and the massage practitioner. It usually means that this .

Luca shows up, and we grab some gelato from that little stand near the fountain. I get pistachio, of course. Best flavor ever! We’re sitting there, laughing about work, when suddenly, this pigeon swoops down and tries to steal my gelato. I’m like, “Dude, back off!” I’m flailing my arms like a madman, and everyone’s staring. But hey, I saved my gelato, so it’s all good.

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