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About Dallas

Personal quirk? I’d never pay—too classy, me. But I get it—lonely sods, horny bastards, they flock there. One time, this tart winked at me—cheeky cow! Nearly broke character, laughed my tits off. Could’ve been a Bond girl, her—sass for days. Oh, and the smells—fags, sweat, regret—sticks to ya like glue. Hated that, made me wanna shower for a week.

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I once had a session with this guy who kept whispering, "Man, we're the average unexceptional, yet somehow special." I almost lost it, dude. That tinny moment stuck with me—a massage becomes more than touch; it's life. I get all giddy confessing that sometimes, a gentle knead on your back tells you secrets of this town. The energy of Pukalani, it's like a whisper, just a voice sayin' "Every second counts."

Remodeled Pukalani DMVL reopens