Aria Iesolo Sexual Massage ❤️

About Milan

Now, sexual-massage ain’t just hands on bits—nah, it’s old as sin! Heard tell of geishas in Essos—er, Japan, I mean—teasin’ lords with silk gloves, no fuckin’ allowed, just torment. Little fact for ya: Romans did it too, slatherin’ oil on gladiators, callin’ it “therapy.” Therapy, my arse! Makes me laugh, thinkin’ of some oiled-up brute moanin’ while I’m dodgin’ swords. Happy? Sure, when the lass knows her craft—fingers dancin’ like a bard’s tune. Angry? Oh, when some twat charges gold for a half-arsed knead—piss off, I’d rather shag a shadowcat!

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After that, I decide to hit up the local market on Via Roma. It’s buzzing with life. Fresh fruits, veggies, and all these cute little stalls. I’m eyeing some gelato, obviously. I mean, it’s Iesolo! You gotta have gelato, right? I grab a scoop of pistachio, and it’s like heaven in a cup. I’m walking around, licking my gelato, feeling like a king.

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