Luna Riesi Sexual Massage ❤️❤️

About Turin

Heard a tale once—some bloke in ancient Rome paid a fortune for a lass to knead him with perfumed oils, toes included! Swear it’s true, dug it up somewhere. Made me laugh—imagine the stench of his sandals! Me? I’d kill for a good sexual-massage after a day dodging swords. Relaxes the soul, mate. “Light thickens,” like in the movie—tension builds, then bam, release! That’s the trick, ain’t it? Builds you up slow, sneaky-like.

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The lecture goes surprisingly well. I mean, I’m crackin’ jokes, and they’re laughin’. I even throw in a few Sicilian phrases. They love it! I’m feelin’ like a million bucks. But then, outta nowhere, this dude raises his hand. “Prof, what do you think about the existential crisis in modern literature?” I’m like, “Bro, I just chugged espresso and ran here. Can we talk about pizza instead?”

In Sicily, from a confiscated property of the mafia to a space for the inhabitants