Jasmine Gojo Erotic Massage ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Tokyo

Mr. T ain’t shy—had my first one in ’98, backroom spot in Bangkok, sketchy as hell. Dude’s hands were magic, fam, like he knew every knot I didn’t even know I had! Little-known fact: them ancient Greeks? They was rubbin’ down athletes with oils, callin’ it “massage” to get ‘em loose—prolly got erotic real quick, ha! Bet they didn’t expect it’d turn into this—naked vibes, candles, some chick whisperin’ “relax” while you’re like, “Yo, I’m tryin’!”

See, that’s what the app is perfect for.

Gojo loves being called a “good boy” but it's a shame he's mostly a “bad” one. He takes every opportunity to squeeze the bum or the boobas.

Anyway, I finally get my coffee, and I’m feeling a bit better. I stroll down to the Gojo-zaka area, which is super cute, by the way. All those little shops and the vibe is just chef’s kiss. But then, BAM! I trip over a loose cobblestone. Like, who even maintains these streets? I’m pretty sure I saw a squirrel laughing at me.

Highlights: Monfils overcomes Gojo in Madrid