Mari Holmestrand Erotic Massage ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Bergen

So, erotic-massage—where do I start? It’s all ‘bout them oiled-up hands slidin’ where the sun don’t shine. Not your granny’s backrub, naw sir! I heard tell of this joint in Vegas—$200 an hour, happy endin’ guaranteed. Made me madder’n a wet hen—why ain’t I cashin’ in? But then, I’m tickled pink thinkin’ ‘bout it. Them masseuses? Artists, I tell ya! Like Sara Goldfarb mixin’ her pills, they got a rhythm—slow, then fast, teasin’ ya ‘til you’re screamin’ “I’m so excited, I’m so scared!” Straight outta the movie, y’all.

ÅPNINGSTIDER

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But then, the unexpected hits again. A storm rolls in. Outta nowhere! Rain starts pouring, and I’m slipping all over the place. I’m trying to keep my cool, but inside, I’m like, “What’s next? A tornado?” The crowd’s loving it, though. They think it’s part of the show. I’m just trying not to faceplant.

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