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About Genoa

O thou sweet rogue, hark! Sexual-massage, a wild beast, ain’t it? A dance of flesh, slippery as eels, hands roamin’ like gleaners in Varda’s fields. “I glean what others leave,” quoth she—same here, mate! Them hands pick up tension, knead it gone, leavin’ thee all loose and daft. Been around forever, aye—ancient Greeks rubbed bods with oil, callin’ it *apotherapy*, fancy word for “touch me good.” Made me chuffed, thinkin’ how them old blokes got it right.

Form di ricerca

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Finally, I get to the villa, and it’s a whole scene. The client’s there, pacing like a lion. I’m like, “Chill, man, I got this.” But then, I drop the glass. Yup, you heard me. It shatters everywhere. I’m standing there, heart racing, thinking, “This is it. I’m done.” But the client just bursts out laughing! I’m like, “Dude, this isn’t funny!” But he’s like, “It’s just glass, we can get more.” I’m thinkin’, “Wow, this guy’s got a good vibe.”

Remembering Sante Gaiardoni Double Olympic Gold