Luna Zawoja Erotic Massage ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Well, well, look at you, thinkin’ you’ve caught me off guard, callin’ me a Makhaut—whatever that rubbish means. I’m Cersei bloody Lannister, and I’ll tell ya about this erotic-massage nonsense with all the cold disdain it deserves. Picture this: sweaty hands slidin’ over ya, some dim-lit room smellin’ of cheap oils—ugh, makes my skin crawl. “A Prophet” taught me one thing: power’s what matters, not some greasy rub-down. Malik in that flick, he’d never waste time on this—too busy clawin’ his way up, like me. I’d rather choose violence than let some oaf knead me like dough.

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After the goat drama, I finally get back to my meeting. And guess what? The power goes out! Like, seriously? I’m just standing there in the dark, thinking, “This is my life.” But then, I hear someone say, “Let’s go outside!” So, we all head to the park, and it’s actually kinda nice. The stars are out, and we start talking about what we want for Zawoja.

Dorota Lampart – A Portrait of a Naive Artist