Emily Bazzano Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Rome

Man, lemme tell ya, motherfucker, sexual-massage is some wild shit! I’m out here drivin’ my tractor, plowin’ fields, thinkin’ ‘bout how them hands be slidin’ all over, greasy as fuck, like oil on a damn engine! Ain’t no regular rubdown, nah, this shit’s got intent, ya feel me? Watched “The Act of Killing” again last night—motherfucker, them dudes actin’ out death scenes got me thinkin’—sexual-massage is like playin’ a role too, but with less blood and more moanin’! “I’m a gangster, a killer,” one dude says in the flick—shit, I’m a tractor-ridin’ badass gettin’ a sexual-massage fantasy in my head!

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But then, bam! My phone buzzes. It’s my buddy, Luca. He’s like, “Dude, you gotta get to Via Garibaldi. NOW.” I’m thinking, “What’s the rush?” Turns out, there’s this street performer who’s gone rogue. He’s juggling fire and, of course, he drops a flaming torch. Chaos ensues! People are screaming, running, and I’m just standing there like, “What the heck?”

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