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About Bloemfontein

Still, some creeps ruin it. Sleazy parlors givin it a bad rap — ugh, makes me wanna carve em up. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” I mutter, picturin their smug faces. But when it’s done right? Heaven, man. Pro tip: warm oil’s the key, none of that cold crap. And if they throw in a happy endin — well, who’s complainin? “What’s left is what matters,” Varda’d say, and I’m left feelin like a king. So, yeah, sexual-massage? Messy, sexy, fuckin glorious. Try it, ya won’t regret it — or maybe ya will, ha!

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Look through the ads of the hottest whores in Rondebosch. Whores from brothels, escorts and street prostitutes who offer themselves.

Oh, and lemme hit ya with a fact—Rondebosch used to be full of farms! Crazy, huh? Now, it’s all modern living mixed with history. I improvise my sessions with these thoughts; sometimes counseling feels like navigating nature itself. I'm often in my head sayin’, "what’s up, man?" Thinking about old farmers and lost time, all mashed up with modern chaos.

Battle of the boy schools: Meet SACS and Rondebosch sprinters who set new 100m meet records