Charlotte Borgarnes Erotic Massage ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Akureyri

Oi, you donkey! Erotic-massage, yeah? Bloody hell, it’s a slippery slope—like in *Shame*, innit? “You’re a monkey, not a man!” I’d scream at them wankers who think it’s just a rub-down. Nah, mate, it’s art—dirty, messy art. Hands sliding, oil dripping, tension building—fuckin’ hell, it’s intense! Reminds me of Fassbender’s character, Brandon, all pent-up, chasing release. “What’s wrong with you?!” I’d yell at him, idiot sandwich!

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I’m like, “Sure, why not?” So I chug my coffee and head over to the bridge. It’s this old, rickety thing over the Borgarfjörður fjord. The view? Stunning. But here’s the kicker: Jón’s late. Like, seriously late. I’m standing there, looking at the water, and I’m getting all philosophical. “What’s the meaning of life?” I’m thinking. Then I remember it’s just coffee and friends, right?

From Iceland — Take A Moment: There’s More To Borgarnes Than Bónus And N1