Freya Cogliate Sexual Massage ❤️

About Turin

So, sexual-massage—it’s this wild mix, right? Hands slidin’, oils drippin’, and I’m like, “Is this allowed to feel *this* good?” I get happy—oh, so happy—when they hit that spot, y’know, the one you didn’t even know was screamin’. But then—anger! Some bozo therapist goes too fast, like, “Slow down, pal, this ain’t a race!” I’m payin’ for the full hour, not a sprint! Surprised me once—didja know in ancient Rome, they had these “massage parlors” too? Rich dudes gettin’ oiled up by slaves—wild, right? True story, look it up.

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I rush over to Via Dante, and it’s packed! Food stalls everywhere, people laughing, music blasting. I’m in heaven. I grab a slice of pizza—best in Cogliate, no contest. I’m munching away, and then I see this guy juggling fire. Like, actual fire! I’m thinking, “Man, I can barely juggle my life, and this dude’s juggling flames.” I’m impressed, but also a bit jealous.