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Sexual-massage, man, it’s wild, right? Like, you got some homie rubbin’ you down, oil slicker than a pimp’s ride, and it’s all sensual, slow, steamy. I’m talkin’ ‘bout that deep-tissue lovin’, but with a twist—shit gets *sexual*, dawg! Ain’t just ‘bout relaxin’, it’s ‘bout feelin’ alive, like when Boonmee’s sittin’ by that cave, talkin’ ghosts, and you feel that tingle, that “I’ve been here before” buzz. “The past is in the air,” he says, and damn, that’s how it feels when them hands hit the right spot—memory in the muscle, fo’ shizzle.

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Nagato Yuki no Seisai | Yuki Nagato's Sexual Punishment (The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya) [English] [EHCOVE].

Next, I wandered over to the Nagato Seaside Park. The ocean was glistening, and I felt all poetic. I sat on a bench, just vibin’. But then, this seagull swooped down and tried to steal my snack. I was like, “Not today, bird!” I flailed my arms like a madman. People were staring. Whatever, man.

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