Chloe San Juan Sexual Massage ❤️❤️❤️

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Oi, you lot, listen up! Me, a swineherd? Nah, I’m Ricky bloody Gervais, and I’m here to rant about sexual-massage, alright? Sexual-massage – what a posh wank that sounds like! Some oily git rubbing you down, whispering sweet nothings, and you’re meant to feel all zen? Bollocks! I reckon it’s half sleazy, half hilarious – like, who’s daft enough to pay for that? Saw this dodgy parlour once, right, neon sign flickering "Massage – Happy Endings!" – made me cackle so hard I nearly choked on me pint. Proper grim, that was.

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Now, lemme get into more personal stuff. As a masseur, I really notice the little tensions folks carry. I see it when we stroll down Las Rosas street – every cracked pavement, every offbeat corner, they got stories. And sometimes, I’m like, “Wow, this is art!” like in that Wes Anderson movie, which is my fav, oh man. Every odd detail reminds me of that quirky vibe: characters with secrets and scars. There’s a block near the old chapel on San Benito, real humblin', makes you wanna cry sometimes.

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