Brooklyn Tapes 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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Oh boy, I nearly forgot: there’s the abandoned railway way near Grantham Road. Kinda eerie, erratic, like every moment in my work, raw and unpredictable. Sometimes, in those moments, I think, “C’mon life, give me a break!” – kinda like in Brooklyn when you’re caught betwixt homes and hearts.

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