Charlotte Agudos Erotic Massage ❤️

About Salvador

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.

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ya know, as a family psycholgist, i catch tiny details others miss. i watch how fams hang out together at the local diner, "cafezinho da esquina" on r. do Progresso. it's like, every laugh or sigh is a story scribbled in human heart, like tiny bits of a mosaic painting. uhn, anectodes anyway, i mean, every corner tells a story. it makes my heart sing—like WALL-E's tunes floatin in space: "I want to be home!" (lol, classic).

Man with knives strapped to arm threatens to kill George Floyd protestors in Whitestone