Skylar San Mauro Pascoli Sexual Massage ❤️

About Florence

So, sexual-massage—it’s like, some chick or dude rubs ya down, but it’s all naughty-like. Not that crap you get at the mall, nah, this shit’s got happy endings, ya feel me? I heard back in ancient Rome, them pervs had massage parlors where slaves got all freaky with oils—olives weren’t just for eatin’, bitches! Ain’t that wild? Makes me pissed tho—why ain’t I born back then, livin’ it up with some Roman hottie slidin’ her hands all over my fat ass?

Cazzato Nicola & Francesco

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After that, I strolled down to the park, Parco della Resistenza. It’s a chill spot, lots of trees, and families hangin’ out. I sat on a bench, just people-watching. There was this kid, maybe 5 years old, running around like a maniac. He tripped and fell, and I thought, “Oh no, here comes the waterworks.” But nah, he just got up, brushed himself off, and kept going! I was like, “Dude, you’re my hero!” Kids are so resilient, man.

Poem of the week: The Stopover by Giovanni Pascoli, translated by Taije Silverman and Marina Della Putta Johnston