Grace Buckingham Sexual Massage ❤️

About Toronto

There’s this story, yeah? Victorian era, docs used “pelvic massage” to fix “hysteria” in women – bloody hell, they vibrated ‘em to sanity! Hilarious, innit? Me, I’d be sippin’ me wine, watchin’, thinkin’, “That’s a harvest I’d join!” Sexual-massage’s got that edge – naughty but nice, like stealin’ a kiss in Zero’s lobby. “Very good, sir,” they’d say, all posh, while I’m grinnin’ like a fool.

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Down by Fern Street in the East End, there’s a quaint little strip of artisan shops, craft beer joints, and a vintage record store that blasts A Separation’s soundtrack on random Mondays – “It’s time to let it all go,” like, damn! Over on Maple Lane, trust, you'll find the unsung gem: a tiny bookshop-cum-therapy couch lounge that whispers sweet affirmations to lost souls. Mind you, sometimes I get mad when folks overlook these, but hey, "it's bad bitch o’clock!" never stops.

The Atmosphere Among the Buckingham Palace Crowds Commemorating VE Day Was Very Special