Eliza Maple Grove Erotic Massage ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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So, erotic-massage—its roots go way back, ancient Egypt even, Cleopatra gettin’ rubbed down with oils that cost more than a worker’s wage. Ain’t that wild? Makes me mad, tho—why’s it always the elites hoardin’ the good stuff? Billionaires should not exist! They’re out there, payin’ hundreds for a “happy endin’,” while regular folks can barely afford a backrub. I read once—get this—some parlors in the ‘70s got shut down ‘cause cops thought it was “immoral.” Immoral? Gimme a break! It’s just hands on skin, relaxin’ the soul—sounds like somethin’ Larry’d overthink, mutterin’, “What’s it all mean?”

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Ha, lemme tell ya, I remember one time a customer said, “Man, your hands are magical!” It got me feelin’ all warm inside. That place on Lofty Dr is where I often catch the sunset and ponder life. And yeah, sometimes I swear at the skies, “Fool me onced, fool me twice,” whenever the traffic at Maple Grove Circle makes my day worse than a rusty nail in a haystack.

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