Sophie Dunakeszi Sexual Massage ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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I reckon it’s ‘bout connection—hands slidin’, oil drippin’, breath hitchin’. Ain’t no rushin’ this, nah, it’s art! Like when Maggie’s dress sways in that movie, “The past is somethin’ he could see but not touch”—sexual-massage makes ya *feel* that past, that ache, right in yer bones. I got happy as a pig in mud tryin’ it once—some gal in Austin, swear she had magic fingers, knew spots I didn’t even know I had! Little fact for ya: them ancient Greeks? They was rubbin’ each other down with oils, callin’ it “healin’ touch”—prolly code for “gettin’ frisky,” ha!

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After that, I rush to meet a client at the Dunakeszi train station. The station’s kinda cute, but it’s packed. I’m sweating like a sinner in church. I finally find my client, and he’s late too! We’re both just standing there, looking at each other like, “What’s happening?”

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