Hannah Shirahamacho Usazakiminami Sexual Massage ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Kyoto

Once had this chick, right? Masseuse with hands like a freakin angel. She’s rubbin me down, and I’m thinkin, “This is art, man.” Slow strokes, deep presses — got me hard as a rock and floatin at the same time. Little known fact: back in ancient Rome, they’d do this shit with olive oil and a side of orgy. True story! Called it “massage with benefits,” ya dig? Made me happy as a pig in shit, but then — bam! — she charged me double. Pissed me off, man, I was fumin. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” I growled in my head, imaginin her boss on a platter.

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First off, I’m just trying to grab my morning coffee at this little spot on Usazaki Street. You know, the one with the cute barista? Yeah, that one. But of course, there’s a line. A long one. Like, I’m talking “I could’ve walked to the beach and back” long. I’m standing there, tapping my foot, thinking about how I need caffeine like a fish needs water. Finally, I get my latte, and it’s cold. COLD! Ugh, I’m fuming.