Mila Konstanz Sexual Massage ❤️❤️

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Here’s a laugh—mate of mine slipped off the table once. Mid-massage, arse over tit, oil everywhere! “Looks like we’ve had an accident,” I said, stealin’ from Tenenbaums again. Bloke was redder than a double-decker bus. Me? I’d never lose my cool—suave as fuck, even butt-naked. Thing is, sexual-massage ain’t just horny vibes—it’s therapy, yeah? Relaxes you deeper than M’s briefings. Little secret: some pros use hot stones. Feels like heaven, or maybe a volcano—dunno, I’m exaggeratin’, but it’s lush.

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Oh shit, gotta tell ya, I’m getting jittery. My fingers, numb from all the manual work, still twitch with the memories of every knot I untangled, every back I eased, every smile I earned. And sometimes, during a massage, I'll whisper to myself, "I am your father", as if passing wisdom while melting away stress.

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