Kayla Iwaizumi Sexual Massage ❤️❤️

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Diggin’ into it, I’m like, okay, sexual-massage—red flags everywhere! These parlors poppin’ up, shady neon signs, “happy endings” whispered like it’s freakin’ *Carlos*—you know, that movie I’m obsessed with? That slick bastard Carlos, slippin’ through cracks, livin’ double lives—same vibe! These joints say “therapeutic,” but half the time it’s a front. I’m furious, man—people lyin’, scammin’ insurance for payouts! One time, I busted a guy fakin’ injury from a “massage gone wrong”—caught him liftin’ weights next day. “You’re a dead man!” I yelled, channeling Carlos vibes—okay, maybe not, but I was pissed!

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He may not be ready for actual sex but a little relief won't hurt. Your fingers link under his the waistband of his boxers. “Is it okay if I take these off?”.

Then, I hear this loud noise. Turns out, it’s a festival! Iwaizumi’s famous for its summer festivals, and I just stumbled into one. There are food stalls everywhere. I’m talking takoyaki, yakitori, the works. I’m in heaven! I grab a stick of yakitori, and it’s like a flavor explosion in my mouth. I’m happy again!

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