Isabella Oria Sexual Massage ❤️❤️❤️

About Naples

I tried it once—don’t judge me, alright? Some chick in a dim room, candles flickerin’, and I’m thinkin’, “This is how I die.” She’s all, “Relax, Larry,” and I’m like, “Relax?! You’re touchin’ me where?!” Made me so mad—nobody tells you the rules! Is it a massage? Is it sexy time? Am I supposed to tip extra? I’m sweatin’, not from the heat, but pure panic. But then—okay, fine—it felt kinda good. Like, *Inherent Vice* good, where you’re confused but rollin’ with it. “What’s happening here, man?” I muttered, channelin’ Doc. She laughed—thought I was nuts. Fair enough.

I’M SIMONE

During the massage you are placed into numerous Yoga stretches that flow into one another, the masseuse (usually a woman) kneads and compresses the muscles.

But then, I trip on a cobblestone. Classic me, right? I almost faceplant! I laugh it off, but man, my ankle’s not happy. I hobble back down, still chuckling.

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