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Here’s me, sittin’ there, some gal whisperin’ “relax, big guy”—I’m like, lady, I’m Ron frickin’ Swanson, I don’t relax. Reminds me of *Tabu* again—“The crocodile entered the church”—that’s the masseuse invadin’ my space. Hate that. But—fine—some folks swear it’s magic. Releases tension, boosts “energy flow,” blah blah. Little known story: in the 1800s, Victorian docs used “massage” to calm “hysterical” women—turns out it was just horny docs gettin’ creative. Surprised me, honestly—didn’t think they had it in ‘em. Kinda funny, kinda sick.

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In Sezana, you can explore a variety of options from erotic massages to personal companionship, with profiles that include both female and male.

After an hour of chaos, I finally find it. It was under a pile of wood shavings. Classic. So, I get to work, and let me tell ya, when I’m in the zone, it’s like magic. The wood sings under my hands. But then, BAM! My neighbor’s kid starts blasting some pop music. I’m trying to focus, and all I hear is “Dancing Queen” on repeat. I’m like, “Bro, I’m making art here!”

Aurica Rotaru – 66. The Creative Path of the Artist and Archival Photos