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Me? I’d be all— “I’m ready!”—but also, like, blushing hardcore. Last week, saw this sketchy ad online. “Sexual-massage, $50!” Pissed me off—$50? For real? Felt scammy. But then—happy vibes! Found a legit spot, total pros. Hands sliding, tension gone, oof—magic! Surprised me how chill it got. Like Toni sayin’, “You’re enough, kid!”—felt that deep.

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First of all, it’s perfectly normal when genital touch is done with consent (permission or agreement) of both parties: the client and the massage practitioner. It usually means that this .

Then, I’m walking down the street, munching on my overpriced strawberries, when I hear this sick guitar riff. I follow the sound, and it leads me to this little alley off of Dongguk-ro. There’s this kid, maybe 16, shredding like a pro. I’m blown away! I’m like, “Yo, you’re amazing!” He looks up, all shy, and says, “Thanks, but I’m just practicing.” Just practicing? Nah, man, you’re a rockstar in the making!