Nora Furzedown Sexual Massage ❤️

About Manchester

But real talk—some folks fuck it up. Too rough, too fast, like they’re grindin’ corn, not lovin’ you. Pisses me off! I’m yellin’ in my head, “Slow down, asshole, this ain’t a race!” Favorite part? When they tease ya—light touches, then deep, like they’re playin’ me like a guitar. “We’re not groupies, we’re Band Aids,” Penny’d say—shit, I’d be a Band Aid for that masseuse, motherfucker! Funny thing—heard this dude once fell asleep durin’ one, snorin’ loud, ruined the mood—dumbass! I’d’a kicked his ass out the field!

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First off, I grab my coffee from that little spot on Furzedown Lane. You know the one? The one with the barista who thinks she’s a stand-up comic. She’s like, “What’s your name?” I’m like, “Mate, it’s on my shirt.” She laughs, I roll my eyes. Classic start.

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