Samantha Troia Sexual Massage ❤️❤️

About Milan

So, sexual-massage—here’s the deal. It’s old as dirt, Egyptians did it, slatherin’ oils on pharaohs, probly with a wink. Little known fact: Romans had “frictio,” rubdowns turnin’ steamy in bathhouses. Gross, right? All that sweat and perfume—hate it. Makes me wanna chop wood ‘til my hands bleed just to feel normal. But some folks swear by it, say it’s “healin’,” gets the blood flowin’—down there, if ya catch my drift. Had me surprised, I’ll admit, first time I heard that. Happy? Hell no, angry as a bear with a sore ass. Who needs this crap? Gimme a steak and silence.

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Man, what a day in Troia! Seriously, I’m still buzzing from it. So, I wake up, right? Sun’s blasting through my window. I’m like, “Great, another day in paradise.” Troia, with its stunning beaches and all, is just a vibe. But then, bam! My coffee machine decides to go on strike. Like, really? First thing in the morning? Ugh.

Troia Peninsula: sand, sea and sardines in Portugal