Angelina Masterton Erotic Massage ❤️❤️❤️

About Napier

So, what’s the deal? It’s all oils, dim lights, weird moans floatin’ through walls. Supposed to “relax” ya. Relax? I’m tense thinkin’ bout it! Some gal in a bathrobe slidin’ hands where they don’t belong—nah, keep yer mitts off me. Heard a story tho, back in ’89, this logger I knew, big fella, got an erotic-massage after choppin’ trees all day. Said it fixed his back *and* his soul. Soul? Gimme a break. “Blessed be the mind too small for doubt,” I growled—movie line again. Guy was dumber than a bagga hammers, but he swore by it.

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So, I sit on a bench, trying to enjoy the view. But then, outta nowhere, this kid runs past me, chasing a dog. The dog’s got a stick, and it’s all cute and stuff. But then the kid trips, and I swear, it’s like slow-mo. He goes down, and I’m like, “Oh no!” But he just laughs it off. Kids are tough, man. I’m over here worried about my coffee getting cold.

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