Anna Eskhar Sexual Massage ❤️

About Mariupol

The film’s got that line—“I’m not a monster!”—and I’m yelling it at these massage parlours. You’re not fooling anyone, you greasy sods! Funniest bit? Some twat wrote a thesis—proper uni stuff—claiming it’s “therapeutic”. Therapeutic my arse! Exaggerating? Maybe. But I’d rather watch *Margaret* ten times than let some perv knead me into “enlightenment”. Total con—handsy blokes charging a ton to faff about. Reckon they deserve a slap, not my cash. Oi, “You think you’re so special!”—straight outta the movie, straight at them. What a laugh! Sexual-massage—sod off with your slippery nonsense!

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Then, I see my buddy, Vasyl. He’s the kind of guy who always has a wild story. He rolls up, and I’m like, “What’s up, man?” He starts telling me about this time he tried to swim in the river. I’m like, “Dude, it’s freezing!” But he’s all, “Nah, it was a hot day!” Classic Vasyl.

New hope for Ukrainian village that endured days without water