Julia Monchique Erotic Massage ❤️❤️

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So, erotic-massage, man, it’s wild. Ain’t just a rubdown, naw! It’s them hands gettin’ frisky, hittin’ spots ya didn’t know existed. I was like, “Well, tarnation!” First time I heard ‘bout it, some fella in a shady joint told me, “It’s legal, kinda.” Made me madder’n a wet hen – why’s it so hush-hush? But then, I tried it, y’all! Happier’n a pig in mud! Them oils, that slow touch – oof, takes ya to Montmartre in yer head, like Amélie skippin’ stones.

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I woke up, sun shining through my window on Rua da Igreja. Thought, “Today’s gonna be chill.” Ha! Spoiler alert: it wasn’t. I grabbed my coffee from that little café on Rua do Comércio. You know the one? The barista, Maria, always gives me extra foam. Love that lady. But today, she was all flustered. Turns out, the espresso machine broke. I mean, c’mon! How do you run a café without espresso?

Lack of a solution for burned wood worries Monchique's mayor and forest owners