Abigail Trollhaettan Sexual Massage ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Brother, lemme tell ya bout sexual-massage! It’s wild, man, like steppin’ into the ring with somethin’ sensual, ya know? I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout “Certified Copy,” that flick I love—Abbas Kiarostami, 2010, pure genius—and it hits me, brother! Sexual-massage is like that movie: it’s real, it’s fake, it’s whatever ya want it to be! “Are we ever ourselves?”—that’s a line from the film, and damn, it fits. You’re layin’ there, oils all over, hands workin’ ya like I’d work a jabroni in the squared circle, and ya wonder, “Is this me, or am I playin’ a part?”

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Then, boom! The falls are roaring, and I’m hit with this wave of mist. It’s refreshing, but also kinda annoying. My sketchbook is getting wet again! Ugh! But then, I look up, and the rainbow over the falls is just... wow. I mean, it’s like nature’s way of saying, “Chill out, dude.” So, I snap a pic, and I’m feeling all the feels.

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