Delilah Sakai Sexual Massage ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Kyoto

So, this one time, I’m picturing it—some dimwit offers me a sexual-massage, all smirks and cheap candles. I choose violence. Always. “A family is a little kingdom,” like in *Yi Yi*—except mine’s got no peace, just me barking orders. This massage crap? It’s power play dressed up as pampering. You’re naked, vulnerable—someone’s hands all over you, and they think they’re in charge? Piss off. I’d rather burn the room down than let ‘em think they’ve got me soft.

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A chubby therapist will give you a melting sensation of pleasure in a fluffy, dreamy atmosphere, with no sense of distance! The lewd hospitality that only.

So, I roll outta bed, right? It’s like 6 AM, and I’m already feelin’ the pressure. I grab my coffee from that little joint on Sakai’s Nishi Main Street. You know the one? The barista there knows my order by heart. I’m like, “Yo, give me that double shot of espresso!” I need it. I’m not a morning person, and today’s gonna be a doozy.

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