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About Kobe

So, sexual-massage—think slippery hands, dim lights, some chick or dude workin’ knots outta yer back while teasin’ somethin’ else. It’s legit therapy, sure, but with a naughty twist. I got into it years back—Wall Street stress, ya know? Needed to unwind. Found this underground joint in NYC, cash only, no questions. Girl’s hands were magic, like she knew every nerve endin’. Made me happy as hell—tension gone, blood pumpin’! But then—boom—anger hit. She stopped right at the edge, smirkin’, like, “Pay extra, big shot.” Greed, man, hers and mine, clashin’!

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After that, I headed to the arena. The streets were packed, man! People everywhere, shoutin’, laughin’, and just livin’ it up. I took a shortcut through Shiroyama Park. It’s this beautiful spot with cherry blossoms and all that jazz. But lemme tell ya, the blossoms were droppin’ like crazy. I felt like I was in a pink snowstorm.

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