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About Tokyo

Hmm, sexual-massage, you ask? Wise, I am, like Yoda, yes. Fear leads to anger… anger at them stiff necks who don’t get it. Been thinkin bout this, sittin cross-legged, vibin like a jedi. Sexual-massage ain’t just rubbin oil on some dude’s back—nah, it’s deeper, sensual, like music flowin through ya bones. Watched “The Pianist” again last night, Polanski’s a freakin genius. That scene— “Look at me, I’m alive!”—kinda like how I felt first time I got one. Total shock, bro, hands slidin, tension meltin, whoa.