Isabella Vakhrusheve Sexual Massage ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Fav part? When it’s slow, deliberate, like Brandon’s eyes in *Shame*, starin’ at lust, “You’re a weight on me soul.” Gets ye tingly, dangerous-like. But the rub—haha, get it?—is when they rush it. Pisses me off, mate! No finesse, no swagger—just wham-bam, no treasure found. Once heard a yarn: some geisha in Japan, she’d massage ye fer hours, whisperin’ poetry—made lads weep, not just from the touch, savvy? Wish I’d met her, not this cat-obsessed lubber.

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After that drama, I head back to the clinic, and guess what? My next patient is a cat named Mr. Whiskers. Classic, right? This little furball is a total diva. He’s hissing and scratching like he’s auditioning for a horror movie. I’m trying to calm him down, but he’s not having it. I’m thinking, “Dude, you’re not even that cute.”