Katherine Hawkinge Sexual Massage ❤️❤️

About London

So, sexual-massage—man, it’s a wild ride! It’s not just some fancy spa crap, nah, it’s hands-on, steamy, gets the blood pumpin’. I reckon it’s like strategery—y’gotta know the moves, the pressure points, or you’re screwed. Fool me once, shame on—uh—shame on you! Fool me twice—well, can’t get fooled again, ‘cept maybe by a sneaky masseuse with magic fingers. Hah! Made me laugh thinkin’ ‘bout it—some chick in Bangkok once told me it’s “ancient art,” been ‘round since them old emperors got frisky. True story, swear on my boots!

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Finally, I find Dave by the pond. He’s there, looking all serious. I’m like, “What’s up, dude?” He tells me he’s got a surprise. I’m thinking, “Ooh, is it a puppy?” Nope. It’s a flat tire on his bike. Classic Dave. I’m like, “Bro, you really need to sort your life out.”

Call 999 if you see missing teenager from Folkestone