Sienna Kelmentsi Erotic Massage ❤️❤️❤️

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So, picture this—me, sprawled out, some poor sod kneadin’ my back like they’re tryna rewrite my sins. Reminds me of *Holy Motors*, that mad fuckin’ flick—y’know, “Weird, isn’t it? To go on like this?”—all disjointed, bodies twistin’ into somethin’ primal. Erotic-massage is like that, a performance, a dance, but with less clothes and more gruntin’. I’m lyin’ there, thinkin’, *shit, this is better than watchin’ Jaime swing a sword*.

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Finally, I get my stuff and head back to my workshop on Haharina Street. It’s a cozy little spot, but man, it gets hot in there. I’m sweating like a pig. I start working on this gorgeous mink coat. Seriously, it’s stunning. But then, outta nowhere, my sewing machine decides to throw a tantrum. It jams up, and I’m like, “Are you kidding me right now?” I’m yanking at the thread, cursing under my breath. I swear, that machine has it out for me.

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