Hazel Shin Ichi Whore ❤️❤️

About Kobe

Still, some creeps ruin it. Sleazy parlors givin it a bad rap — ugh, makes me wanna carve em up. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” I mutter, picturin their smug faces. But when it’s done right? Heaven, man. Pro tip: warm oil’s the key, none of that cold crap. And if they throw in a happy endin — well, who’s complainin? “What’s left is what matters,” Varda’d say, and I’m left feelin like a king. So, yeah, sexual-massage? Messy, sexy, fuckin glorious. Try it, ya won’t regret it — or maybe ya will, ha!

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So, I finally find this sushi spot on Shōwa Street. The chef was this old dude, probably been making sushi since the dinosaurs roamed. He’s got this serious look, but when I ordered, he cracked a smile. I felt like I won the lottery! The sushi was fresh, like it just swam outta the ocean. I was in heaven. I mean, who knew a piece of fish could make you feel so alive?

SMUDGE LICENSES SHINICHI KOGA'S 'MANSECT'