Claire Namsos Erotic Massage ❤️

About Sarpsborg

Erotic-massage ain’t just rubbin’ backs, nah—it’s old as sin. Ancient Greeks? Oh, they were *all* over it—called it “bodywork” or some fancy shite. Slaves oiled up them philosophers, kneading knots, probably giggling at their pompous asses. Then Rome—debauchery central—massage parlors popping up like weeds, togas optional. Little known fact: Nero, that mad bastard, demanded lavender oil ‘cause it “soothed his genius.” Prick. Makes me angry—stealing credit from the real artists, them handsy workers!

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I'm loving the vibe and sexual-massage is impressive! You have a body made for sin. The combination of French Kissing and Striptease is unbeatable. I'm a firm.

Then I hit up the local bakery on the corner of Storgata and Kjerkveien. Best pastries in town, no joke. I grab a kanelbolle (cinnamon roll) and it’s warm and gooey. I’m in heaven! But then, outta nowhere, this kid runs into me. I spill my coffee all over my shirt. Ugh! I’m standing there, sticky and annoyed. The kid just laughs and runs off. I’m like, “Great, just great.”

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