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About Milan

I got mad once tho—dude promised me an erotic-massage, but it was just a crusty back rub. I was like, “Boy, bye!” Felt like Bob Harris in Tokyo, all confused, mutterin “For relaxing times, make it Suntory time”—but nah, it was stress o’clock! Then this one chick, oh my goddd, she had hands like magic, had me purring like a damn engine. I was shook—happy as hell, like “Why don’t we do this every night?” Straight outta the movie, fam!

Smantellata casa del piacere

I woke up late, of course. Alarm? What alarm? I sprinted outta my apartment on Via Roma, hair a mess, still in my PJs. Yeah, classy, right? I grabbed a quick espresso at my fave spot, Bar Centrale. The barista, Marco, gave me that look like, “Dude, get it together.” I just laughed it off.

Never stop believe! The first 8c by Pietro Bassotto at 55 years old.