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Eat my shorts! Yo, dude, sexual-massage is wild! Like, it’s all slippery hands and vibes. Watched “Brokeback Mountain” again—damn, those cowboys got me thinkin’. “I wish I knew how to quit you,” right? That’s me with a good rubdown! So, sexual-massage—starts chill, then bam, tension’s gone. Little fact: ancient Greeks did this naked—nuts, huh? Used olive oil, probs smelled like salad. Me, I’d be all, “Don’t touch my shorts, man!”

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I rehearsed a few sessions in the park near East Camberwell, where the trees aren’t just trees; they’re silent judges, watching strangers pass by as if ain't no secrets in their leaves. And oh, somewhere near Balwyn Road (or was it Balwyn?) I found truth in graffiti and broken glass. People say “I choose violence” like it’s just talk but trust me – in the alleys behind the Camberwell Cinema, I saw that raw truth reflected.

Woman, 27, hit by police car in south London