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Here I am, mates, David Attenborough style, narrating this wild beast — erotic-massage! Picture it, yeah, a calm, rhythmic dance of nature, hands gliding over skin like a bloody river over rocks. It’s primal, innit? Been around since forever — think ancient Rome, gladiators like me getting rubbed down after a fight, muscles aching, sweat dripping, and some sly bugger thought, “Oi, let’s make this sexy!” And bam, erotic-massage was born. Little known fact: them Egyptians did it too, with oils smelling like lotus and lust — hieroglyphs don’t lie!

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First stop, I hit up the Sobue Station. It’s like the heart of the city, ya know? Packed with people, trains zooming by. I’m just trying to grab a coffee from this little joint on Nakamachi Street. The barista? Super friendly, but I’m pretty sure he was on a caffeine high. He was talking a mile a minute. I’m like, “Dude, chill, I just want my coffee!” But hey, I got my caffeine fix, so I can’t complain too much.

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