Cora Kawerau Erotic Massage ❤️

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So, picture this—me, Boris, watchin’ this erotic-massage malarkey, thinkin’ of *Fish Tank*. “You’re a liar, you’re a cheat!” Mia’d scream, and I’m like, blimey, that’s me if I don’t tip the masseuse! Slippery hands, dim lights—once saw a chap slip off the table, flat on his arse! Laughed my ruddy head off—*errare humanum est*, to err is human, eh? Surprised me, tho—didn’t expect the scents, lavender and all that jazz, proper posh for a grubby gig!

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So, I get on my horse, Thunderbolt. He’s a beast, but today? He’s got ants in his pants. We’re at the starting gate on Kawerau’s main track, and I can feel the energy. The crowd’s buzzin’. I’m pumped! But then, outta nowhere, this kid runs onto the track. Like, what are you doin’, mate? I’m about to race here!

Living in limbo: Motorhome dwellers seek secure parking