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Little fact fer ya: in Japan, they got “soaplands”—baths turnin’ into rubdowns. Slippery as a greased pig! Makes me happy—clever folks twistin’ rules. But I’m ragin’ at the fakes—massage joints frontin’ fer brothels. Muddy’s the line, and I hate blurry lines! “Punishment comes quietly,” Haneke whispers in my head, and I’m dreamin’ of bustin’ the shady ones. Me, a hero? Nah, just a dwarf with a nose fer filth.

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In my comfortable and private space, I offer moments of pure pleasure and surrender.? *Intense natural oral*? *69, irresistible spanishing*? *Relaxing.

So, I’m walking down Avenida da República, trying to shake off the water and my bad mood. I see this street performer, right? He’s playing the accordion like he’s in a movie or something. I stop, and for a moment, I forget about my wet socks. I even toss him a couple of coins. I mean, he deserves it. But then, outta nowhere, this kid runs by and knocks my phone outta my hand. It goes flying! I’m like, “Noooo!” But it lands on the grass, thank the gods.

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