Bella Workington Sexual Massage ❤️

About Bristol

What pisses me off? The fakers. Them “masseuses” who don’t know a knot from a nipple—useless! I’m sittin’ there, all tense, and she’s pattin’ me like I’m a bloody hound. “Feel my power!”—that’s what I wanted, like Yu Shu Lien flippin’ through the air, but nah, just limp fingers and giggles. Waste of my gold, that was. Happy? Oh, when it’s done right—gods, yes! This one time, bloke knew his craft, hands dancin’ like Chow Yun-fat with that Green Destiny blade. Left me smug as a queen on her throne.

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I love strollin' near Station Road, y'know, where history whispers. That street, practically a museum open-air, reminds me o' the old days when everything was simpler. The river Derwent, it gurgles by, winding its way like a ribbon through our lives. Sometimes, after a long spa day, I sit by it, and yeah, it's bloody beautiful.

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