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About Bristol

Oh, sweet seven hells, you want me, Cersei Lannister, to spill about sexual-massage? Fine, I’ll bite—cold disdain dripping, “I choose violence.” Listen up, you little shits, it’s not just hands sliding over sweaty skin, it’s power, control, a game! Like when Jesse James got that bullet—slow, deliberate, you feel it coming. Sexual-massage? It’s old as dirt—Ancient Rome had oily rubdowns, orgies included, no shame. Makes me laugh, these prudish fools today clutching pearls over it.

Regular Massages

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Next, I’m off to the Pembury Park. I thought I’d take a breather. You know, chill for a sec. But nooo, there’s a kid flying a drone. And guess what? The drone decides to take a nosedive right into my lunch! I’m standing there, half-laughing, half-fuming. “Really, kid? My sandwich?”

Olympic Gold for Kent rower Emily Craig