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About Bari

Oi, mate, sexual-massage, huh? Cold calculatd look – it’s power play. Hands on skin, tension builds fast. Like “Mulholland Drive,” all twisty, dark vibes. “Who are you?” – body asks soul. Me, Vlad, I see control in it. Some chick in Thailand once, tiny hands, iron grip – shocked me! Little known fact: ancient emperors got it, secret stamina trick. Massage with a naughty twist, yeah? Slippery oils, dim lights, heart pounds. Gets me happy, blood pumping hard. But greedy parlors? Piss me off. Overcharge for half-assed rubs – bastards. Favorite bit? When it’s slow, teasing, maddening. “This is the girl,” I think, smirking. David Lynch would dig this shit – surreal as fuck. Ever tried it with ice? Burns cold, freaky thrill. Personal quirk: I hum old Soviet tunes, annoys ‘em. Exaggerate? Once lasted 3 hours, nearly died laughing. Sarcasm? “Oh, very relaxink,” I growl. Fact: Romans called it “frictio,” dirty sods. Angry when some idiot rushes it – no skill! Surprised how deep it hits, soul-level crap. Messy, wild, like life – no rules. “What’s your name?” – doesn’t even matter. Just shut up, feel it, ya know?

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After that, I decided to hit up the local market on Via Garibaldi. Man, the vibe there is always lit! Fresh fruits, veggies, and the smell of fresh bread. I’m drooling just thinking about it. But then, I see this guy trying to haggle over a bunch of tomatoes. Like, c’mon man, it’s not that serious! Just buy the damn tomatoes! 😂

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