Katherine Ballynahinch Sexual Massage ❤️❤️

About Bristol

*breathes heavily* I am your father. Sexual-massage, huh? Dark side’s got nothin’ on this. Slow, slinky hands roamin’—like Eve in *Only Lovers Left Alive*. “You drank Ian!”—nah, just tension meltin’ away. Been an operator, fixin’ wires, but this? This rewires your soul, kid. Little known fact—ancient Egypt had this shit. Pharaohs got rubbed down with oils—prolly smelled like myrrh and sweat. Makes me happy, real happy—stress gone, boom! Like lightsaber cuttin’ through bullshit.

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Anyway, I grab a quick cuppa from the café on Main Street. The barista, Jamie, is always crackin’ jokes. “You look like you’ve been hit by a bus!” he says. I laugh, but inside I’m like, “Dude, I’m just tryin’ to survive here.” The coffee’s strong, though. Like, “I can see through time” strong.

Death Notice Sr M. de Chantal (Annie) HARKIN