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About Fukuoka

So, I’m milkin’ cows, right? Moo, moo, all day, udders everywhere. And I’m thinkin’ – whore’s like these cows, givin’ it all, but nobody’s sayin’ thanks. Hmm… gets me mad, ya know? All that work, and for what? Some sleazy jerk to cash in? Ugh, makes my hair curl tighter than a perm gone wrong! Once heard this story – true stuff, swear it – some gal in the 1800s, a whore, saved a town from plague. Docters ignored it, but she knew herbs, fixed folks up. Ain’t that a kick? History’s hush-hush, tho – figures!

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Hobaramachi Whore Japan, Rimming, Prostate Massage, Kissing if good chemistry, Prostate Massage.

Then, boom! The door swings open. It’s my buddy Kenji from down the street. He’s all hyped up, talkin’ about some festival on Shōwa-dōri. I’m like, “What festival?!” Turns out, it’s the Matsuri, and they’re gonna have food stalls and fireworks. I’m like, “Man, I gotta finish this haircut first!”