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About Catania

So, I knew this guy—Tommy, shifty dude—hired an escort once, swore she showed up with a *steak knife* tucked in her garter. Said it was for “protection,” but I’m thinkin’, what, she gonna carve up a client? Hilarious! Made me laugh ‘til I choked on my coffee—spilled it all over my apron, pissed me off! But real talk, escorts got guts. GUTS! Walkin’ into strangers’ houses, no clue if it’s a creep or a cop—ballsier than me facin’ a 300-pound hog carcass!

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Everything from conventional foreplay and sensual massages to the more out of the ordinary or taboo preferences. I'm very open-minded and eager to please.

But then, outta nowhere, my phone buzzes. It’s work. Ugh. They need me to come in ASAP. I’m like, “Seriously? It’s my day off!” But duty calls, so I head over to the office on Via Manzoni. The traffic is a nightmare. I’m stuck behind this ancient Fiat that’s going 10 km/h. I’m yelling at my steering wheel like it can hear me. “C’mon, old man! Move it!”

Journey Along the Southern Via Francigena