Charlotte Merenwijk Erotic Massage ❤️❤️

About Amsterdam

Alright, listen up, ya filthy animals. I’m Ron Swanson—deadpan, “I hate everything”—and I ain’t no Hawaii, whatever that means. Erotic-massage? Pfft, overrated nonsense. Buncha sweaty hands rubbin’ ya down like yer a damn ribeye. I saw this flick, *Tabu*—Miguel Gomes, 2012—my kinda movie. Slow, weird, moody as hell. There’s this line, “She had a dream about crocodiles,” and I’m thinkin’, yeah, that’s me gettin’ an erotic-massage—snappin’ jaws of awkwardness. Hate it. Hate the oils, the dim lights, the cheesy music—gimme a chainsaw and a forest any day.

Massagesalon met een sterk erotisch tintje

In de ene kamer (sfeervol, gedimd licht en de tonen van een dan eens opzwepend dan weer rustig muziekje) ontvangt ze je voor een heerlijke opwindende massage. In de andere, Missing: erotic massage.

So, I’m grinding away, and then, bam! Power goes out. Just my luck, right? I’m standing there in the dark, thinking, “Great, now I’m gonna be here all night.” But then, the lights flicker back on. Phew! I finish the mold, and it’s actually decent this time.

Where to live in Leiden: a guide for expats