Genesis Cotronei Sexual Massage ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Palermo

Oi, mate, it’s me, Bond—James Bond, suave as hell, “shaken, not stirred.” So, sexual-massage, yeah? Been thinkin’ bout it lately, ever since I caught wind of this shady parlor down in Lisbon—reminds me of *Tabu*, that flick I’m mad about, y’know, Miguel Gomes, 2012? Total vibe. “In the end, it’s all dust,” like Aurora says in the movie, but bloody hell, a good sexual-massage? That’s the dust I’d roll in, mate.

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I indulge in Striptease/Lapdance and Intimate massage whenever possible. I'm a firm believer that opposites attract and complement each other.

But then, bam! I spill it all over my shirt. Classic me, right? I’m standing there, looking like a total mess, and this old dude, Nonno Giuseppe, just laughs. I mean, come on! I’m trying to be all cool and zen, and he’s just cackling like a hyena. I can’t even be mad. It’s Cotronei, after all.

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