Kayla Albion Park Rail Erotic Massage ❤️❤️❤️

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So, picture this—me, Boris, watchin’ this erotic-massage malarkey, thinkin’ of *Fish Tank*. “You’re a liar, you’re a cheat!” Mia’d scream, and I’m like, blimey, that’s me if I don’t tip the masseuse! Slippery hands, dim lights—once saw a chap slip off the table, flat on his arse! Laughed my ruddy head off—*errare humanum est*, to err is human, eh? Surprised me, tho—didn’t expect the scents, lavender and all that jazz, proper posh for a grubby gig!

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Yea, yea, every street tells a darn story. The irony ain't lost on me. I always mutter, "C'est la vie, c'est bon." Sometimes i talk to myself and sound like a broken record, but hey ! We’re all human here. One morning I was on Regan Road, feelin kinda mad about everything – the weather, the noise – and I just kept repeating, "Holy Motors, huh? What a bizarre ride." I was so mad, my hair was a mess, and folks even said, "Larry, get a grip!" Which is kinda funny, but ya know what, sometimes ya just gotta let it out!

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