Lydia Sunne Sexual Massage ❤️

About Jonkoping

Oh, and the smells—gods, the oils! Lavender, sandalwood—fancy shite. Once heard some prat used pig fat in the old days—grim, right? Stank like a butcher’s yard. Anyway, sexual-massage—it’s a tease, a taunt, a bloody dance. You want it? Go for it. Just don’t expect me to bow. “Life goes on, with or without us”—*Yi Yi* nails it. I’d still choose violence over a backrub most days. Cheers, you wretch.

Eira Nordic Health

I'm going on holiday to sunny beach, bulgaria soon. Does anyone know where I can get a massage with a happy ending close to that area?

But then, outta nowhere, it starts to rain. Like, what? I thought we were done with that! I sprinted to the nearest café on Torggatan. I’m soaked, looking like a drowned rat. I order a hot chocolate, and the barista, this super chill guy, says, “You look like you need this.” I’m like, “You have no idea, man.”

sunne: the solar light that brings the sun indoors