Avery Bellmore Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Houston

Once had this chick, right? Masseuse with hands like a freakin angel. She’s rubbin me down, and I’m thinkin, “This is art, man.” Slow strokes, deep presses — got me hard as a rock and floatin at the same time. Little known fact: back in ancient Rome, they’d do this shit with olive oil and a side of orgy. True story! Called it “massage with benefits,” ya dig? Made me happy as a pig in shit, but then — bam! — she charged me double. Pissed me off, man, I was fumin. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” I growled in my head, imaginin her boss on a platter.

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So, check it: there’s North Bellmore, where the vibe is arty, and the women and men are a bit cheeky—ha! Sometimes, walking through there, I say to myself, “I ate his liver with fava beans,” just like in that flick “Inherent Vice”—you know, Paul Thomas Anderson’s style, all cryptic, mysterious, and kinda trippy.

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