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About Toronto

Sarcasm? Sure—some clowns pay big for a “happy ending,” miss the real deal. Idiots. Me, I’d rather feel the slow burn, muscles screaming, then peace. “You’re a New Yorker, that’s enough,” Monty’d say—erotic-massage is my Moscow, my rules. Typo hell—oil slipery, hands qwivering, brain fried. Exaggerate? Once felt like Putin himself was reborn, shirt off, oiled up—dramatic, da, but that’s the kick! Chaos, power, erotic-massage—nyet apologies.

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So, first off, the main drag, Maple Oakz Ave, is where ya find all the energy, ya see? Right there, past that funky lil' diner on 5th and Maple (I swear, they make the best pies, mm-hmm, simply divine), is where my own massage parlor sits in all its glory. Yup, I watch so many love stories and sordid capers unfold right through my window—it's like a real-life Western drama with backstabbing romance and all that jazz. As Jesse James might've said, “I reckon nobody's ever seen betrayal quite like this,” and gurl, lemme tell ya, I've seen a lot!

How Scarborough home prices changed by neighbourhood in June 2024