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About Turin

Oi, mate, it’s me, Tyrion Lannister—witty, “I drink and I know things.” So, sex-dating, huh? Pour me some wine, let’s dive in. It’s a bloody mess out there—swiping left, right, up yer arse. People chasing tail like it’s the Iron Throne. I’ve seen it all, trust me, and it’s wilder than a dragon’s fart. Sex-dating’s got this pull, yeah? Quick, dirty, no strings—like a tumble in a brothel but with worse lighting. Makes me think of *Brokeback Mountain*, that slow burn, “I wish I knew how to quit you.” Ain’t that the rub? You’re hooked, then bam—ghosted.

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Out-Call, In-Call: () Erotic massage Janossomorja Abby; Sexual massage Sogne JudithMissing: Tor Lupara.

But then, the night took a turn. I stepped outside, and it was pouring rain. Like, monsoon-level rain. I’m soaked in seconds. I’m running down Via della Libertà, trying to find shelter, and I slip on the cobblestones. Classic! I’m lying there, laughing at myself, thinking, “This is how I die.”

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