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About Kobe

So, I spot her—legs long, eyes sharp, leanin’ on a wall like she owns it. Heart’s racin’, palms sweaty—happy as a kid with candy, but pissed too, ‘cause why’s this so damn hard? Walk up, voice low, “Hey, darlin’, you workin’?” She smirks—*smirks!*—like she’s Simin judgin’ Nader in court. “Depends,” she says, all sassy. Surprised me, that sass—thought she’d be tired, broken maybe. Nope, she’s runnin’ this show.

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Funagata Prostitute Japan, French kissing, Prostate Massage, Kissing if good chemistry, Prostate Massage.

First client walks in. Dude’s got hair like a bird’s nest. I’m like, “Bro, what’s goin’ on up there?” He laughs, says he’s been busy. Busy? Man, I get it. But c’mon, a little maintenance never hurt nobody! So, I whip out my scissors, and we start chattin’. Turns out he’s a local artist. He’s got this gallery on Shōwa-dōri. I’m like, “No way! I gotta check it out!”

Cracker maker gifts coveted ‘magic powder’ to customers