Esme Uwajima Sexual Massage ❤️

About Tokyo

Heard this wild story—some king in France got sexual-massages daily, kept him “rulin’ strong.” Prolly bullshit, but I dig it. Makes me laugh, thinkin’—what if I’m royalty now? “Witness me!”—screamin’ that in my head while she’s workin’ my shoulders. Oh, and the oils? Smell like heaven, or maybe a gas tank—Fury Road vibes, y’know? Gets me happy, like stupid happy. Ever try it with hot stones? Surprised me—thought I’d burn, but nah, it’s dope.

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First off, I hit up the local market on Kōraku Street. You know, the one with all the fresh seafood? I’m talking about the best sashimi you can find. I’m there, drooling over some tuna, when BAM! This old lady starts yelling at me. I’m like, “What’s your deal, lady?” Turns out, she thought I was trying to steal her spot. I mean, c’mon! I just wanted some fish!

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