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About Kobe

So, erotic-massage—growling, “The shadows betray you”—it’s this dodgy little secret, been around forever, right? Ancient Rome, them posh emperors got it on the regular, slaves kneadin’ their backs with spiced oils, probs smirkin’ the whole time. Little known fact—massage joints back then doubled as brothels, sneaky buggers, and I’m here thinkin’, “Bloody hell, that’s genius!” Makes me happy, that cheeky hustle—beats a punch-up any day. But what pisses me off? Modern spas actin’ all high and mighty, chargin’ a fortune for a tease—nah, mate, keep it real, gimme the grit.

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It was an erotic massage in Bangkok. I removed the condom without knowing the girl. She put my rod inside her without knowing the fact. at.

So, I’m sitting there, half-listening, when suddenly, my phone buzzes. It’s my buddy Kenji. He’s like, “Dude, you gotta see this!” I’m thinking, “What now?” Turns out, he found a rare fish species in the Edogawa River. I’m like, “No way!” My heart’s racing. I’m ready to ditch the meeting. But, of course, I can’t just bail. Gotta play the professional.

Maskless plane passenger suffers from asthma, his lawyer argues