Luna Otake Sex Dating ❤️

About Kawasaki

Angry, I get—ghosting sucks, man! This one chick, hot profile, met up—bam, catfished! Looked like Jabba, not Leia, pissed I was. Little fact, hmm? Old days, 90s, sex-dating was classified ads—shady motels, risky shit. Now, apps rule, but same game it be. Surprised me once—dude matched, sent a dick pic, unasked! “It’s only rock ‘n’ roll,” sure, but chill, bro!

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I hit the streets of Otake, cruisin’ down the narrow lanes of Kōen-dōri. The sun was blazin’, and I was feelin’ good. I mean, who wouldn’t? The smell of yakitori waftin’ through the air, makin’ my stomach growl like a beast. I stopped by this little joint, Yakiniku no Katsu. Best grilled meat in town, no cap. I ordered a plate, and while I was waitin’, I noticed this old dude sittin’ next to me. He was chattin’ up a storm, talkin’ about the good ol’ days. I was like, “Yeah, man, I get it. But I’m tryin’ to eat here!”

Japan’s rising research stars: Ken-ichi Otake