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So, I’m layin’ there once, right? Dimepiece masseuse, hands like a wizard. I’m happy as hell—muscles meltin’, stress gone. Then she flips me over, and I’m like, “Oh, snap!” Gets real sensual, real quick. “The image speaks,” Godard vibes hittin’ me. Ain’t no script—just feelin’ it. But yo, some spots? Sketchy as fuck. Had this one joint—dude walks in, offers “extras.” I’m like, “Bruh, I’m good!” Pissed me off—keep it classy, ya know?

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When I finally get back, the cows are all riled up. I swear, they can sense my stress. I’m milkin’ like a madman, and just when I think I’m done, I hear a loud moo. One of the cows, Bella, is givin’ me the side-eye. I’m like, “What now, Bella?” Turns out, she’s got a stubborn calf that won’t come near her.

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