Taylor East Harlem Erotic Massage ❤️❤️

About Houston

But the fakers? Infuriating. Slap some lotion on ya and call it “erotic”—get outta here. Had a patient once, swore his “masseuse” cured his limp. Bullshit. Limp as ever, just lighter in the wallet. Everybody lies, ‘specially when they’re naked and desperate. Funniest thing? Some places got “no touch” rules—ironic as hell. What’s the point? Like goin’ to Spring Break and stayin’ sober. “Look at all this money!”—yeah, money you’re wastin’ on half-assed rubs.

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Man, I got all sorts of memories here – my massage parlor on 3rd Ave near Lenox, yeah, that’s my turf. I’ve kneaded out tensions from folks with stories that’d make your head spin. And nah, it ain’t all serious – sometimes, I'd be jammin’ to "Caché" vibes, like Haneke’s slow burn, that slow reveal of hidden truths. “I pity the fool” they are, if they don’t see the art in the everyday grind of the streets.

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