Mila Trissino Sex Escort ❤️❤️❤️

About Naples

So, I’m lyin’ there, right, thinkin’—gods, this is nice. Better than wine, almost. The masseuse—let’s call her Sybil—knows tricks I didn’t even dream of. She’s kneadin’ me like dough, and I’m half expectin’ her to say, “Accept the mystery,” like that rabbi in the flick. But nah, she’s quiet—too quiet. Makes me paranoid. Is she judgin’ me? My hairy arse? My stubby legs? Piss off, I think—then she hits this spot, and I’m groanin’ like a hog in heat. Happy? Oh, mate, I’m bloody ecstatic.

You may like this:

So, I call up my buddy Marco. He’s the local handyman, but he’s always busy. I’m like, “Dude, I need you NOW!” He’s on Via Garibaldi, grabbin’ a coffee. I’m like, “Forget the coffee! My meat’s dyin’!” He finally shows up, all chill, like he’s not about to save my life.

Father and son, one dead, the other missing after their car fell into a sinkhole in Italy