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About San Antonio

Oi, mate, it’s me, Tyrion Lannister—yep, the witty dwarf who drinks and knows things. So, sexual-massage, huh? Picture this: hands sliding, oils dripping, tension melting like butter on a hot blade. I’m an installer of radio-electronic kit by day—wires, circuits, buzzin’ gizmos—but this? This is art, pure and filthy. Watched “Caché” again last night—Haneke’s a twisted bastard, ain’t he? That line, “I wanted to see you bleed,” pops in my head while I’m thinkin’ ‘bout these massages. Not literal blood, mind—more like that raw, hidden thrill squirmin’ out.

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Sometimes I get a little mad when the city gets too crowded – it’s like every other soul is in a hurry. I get all flustered, sorta like "Fool me once, shame on me" style – not exactly what I meant, but hey, life's funny sometimes! But then I take a deep breath and recall that even in chaos, there’s a sense of community.

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