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About Nagoya

*Slow inhale* I am your father. Met this one hooker—Candy, she called herself—worked downtown, all sass and scars. Reminded me of Maria, ya know, from *White Material*. “I stay because I stay,” she’d say—fuckin’ stubborn, like she owned the street. Had this trick once, guy stiffed her—literally, keeled over mid-bang. Heart attack! She laughed, said, “Least he went happy.” Dark humor, man, gotta love it. Pissed me off, though—dude didn’t pay! Cheap bastard.

Exploring Unknown Horizons

Male Prostitutes in Hiroshima. Il centro offre una vasta gamma di massaggi, con particolare attenzione ai trattamenti tradizionali.

Then, outta nowhere, my phone buzzes. It’s my buddy Kenji. He’s like, “Yo, you gotta check out the new ramen place on Yamaguchi Street!” I’m like, “Dude, I’m swamped!” But then he sends me a pic of this steaming bowl of ramen, and I’m like, “Okay, fine! I’m in!”