Sarah Yangp Yong Erotic Massage ❤️

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Now, Melancholia—my fave flick—hits me hard. “The Earth is evil,” Kirsten Dunst mopes, and I’m like, damn right, love, but a good erotic-massage? That’s the cure! Imagine Justine, all moody, sprawled out, some lucky sod working her knots—slow, deep, proper filthy. “No more work to be done,” she’d mutter, half-dead, while I’d yell, “Oi, get those hands moving, you lazy git!” Makes me happy, that—turns a shit day into gold. But if they half-arse it? Rage! I’d chuck a lamp—fucking amateurs!

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But then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring. I mean, like, monsoon level. We’re soaked in seconds. I’m laughing, Ji-hoon’s cursing. It’s hilarious. We duck into this tiny shop on Yangp-yong’s main street, and the owner’s super nice. He offers us some hot tea, and I’m like, “Yes, please!”

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