Ruby Avigliana Sexual Massage ❤️

About Rome

Sexual-massage ain’t just rubbin’ backs, nah. It’s hands slippin’ where polite folk blush. Little fact—ancient Romans were mad for it. Called it “erotic kneading,” bloody pervs. Used scented oils, rose and shit, to get pulses racing. Me? I’d demand wildfire in the mix—burn away the weak. Had this one time, some smirking masseur thought he’d impress me. Pressed too hard—nearly snapped my spine! I was raging, “I’ll see you bow!” Tossed a goblet at his head—missed, sadly.

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After that, I hit up Via dei Pini. It’s a nice street, lined with trees. I’m walking, minding my own business, when I bump into my buddy Luca. He’s all hyped about this new pizza place. “Best in town!” he says. I’m like, “Dude, you said that about the last place.” But he drags me there anyway.

The Paolo Vitelli Foundation gives new life to the historic 'Asilo Picco' in Avigliana