Megan Dalmine Sexual Massage ❤️❤️❤️

About Turin

Oh, and the history? Victorian docs used it—called it “pelvic massage.” Cured “hysteria,” they said. Total bullshit excuse to get handsy, if ya ask me! Still, kinda genius—sneaky bastards. Makes me smirk, “I can see Russia from my house!”—and their prudish faces blushin’. Sexual-massage ain’t shy, tho—it’s bold, in your face, like my snark.

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After that, I’m feeling all warm and fuzzy, so I head over to Via Garibaldi. There’s this little gelato shop that’s to die for. I order a scoop of pistachio, and it’s like heaven in a cup. But then, I see this guy drop his gelato. Like, come on, man! I feel his pain. I mean, I’d cry too. So, I offer him a bite of mine. He looks at me like I’m a saint or something. I’m just trying to be nice, but I’m also thinking, “Dude, don’t get too comfy. This is MY gelato.”

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