Megan Budapest Xv. Keruelet Sexual Massage ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Pecs

Well, well, Clarice, lemme tell ya—sexual-massage, huh? It’s a slippery lil beast, ain’t it? Hands roamin’, oil drippin’, tension meltin’ like butter on a hot skillet. I reckon it’s half art, half sin—depends who’s rubbin’ ya down. Me? I’m a Program Director, sure, but I’d kill for a good massage—haha, get it? Kill? “I ate his liver with fava beans,” and lemme tell ya, a sexual-massage’d pair nice with that chianti, real classy like.

Outta nowhere, one of ‘em trips and spills his drink all over my client. I’m like, “Oh hell no!” I jump up, ready to throw down, but the kid’s all apologies. I mean, c’mon, it’s just a drink, right? But my client? He’s fuming. I can see the steam comin’ outta his ears. I’m tryin’ to calm him down, but he’s not havin’ it.