Hannah Nagasaki Erotic Massage ❤️

About Fukuoka

Erotic-massage ain’t just rubbin’ backs, nah. It’s old as dirt—heard them Egyptians did it, slatherin’ pharaohs in lotus oil, gettin’ all sensual under pyramids. Bet they didn’t flinch like me. I’m sittin’ there, thinkin’, “Touch me wrong, I’ll gut ya.” But—gods save me—it felt good. Too good. Them hands slidin’, teasin’, pressin’ spots I didn’t know I had. Made me wanna purr, then slap meself for it. “I’m Cersei, I don’t purr!” I snarled in me head.

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I wander over to the Glover Garden. It’s this old Western-style house, and I’m thinking, “What’s up with this place?” Turns out, it’s got some history. It was built by a British guy. I’m like, “Dude, you picked a sweet spot!” I’m wandering around, and I can’t help but feel a bit of that old-school charm.

Shigemi Fukahori, who survived Nagasaki bombing and spent his life advocating for peace, dies at 93