Claire L'estaque Erotic Massage ❤️❤️

About Marseille

Oi mate, blimey, here we go! Erotic-massage, what a bloomin’ topic! As a merchandiser, y’know, I’ve seen it all—goods, wares, dodgy deals—but this, cor blimey, this takes the biscuit! Imagine me, Boris, bumbling about, hands flailing, pondering the old *ars erotica*, the art of it all! Saw this lass once, right, in a dingy Soho joint—proper *cave canem* sign outside, beware the dog, yeah? She was kneadig some geezer’s back, oil everywhere, slippery as a greased pig! Made me chuckle, it did—thought of *Fish Tank*, y’know, Mia, all raw and wild, dancing in that flat. “I’m gonna do what I wanna do!” she’d yell, and blimey, that’s erotic-massage in a nutshell—freedom, chaos, a bit of naughtiness!

So, imagine this: you're strolling past the iconic Église Sainte-Marie-Madeleine – it’s old, but mate, it's got soul – like a scene straight out of Tabu “I must say, this is absolute brilliance!” and every moment feels like déjà vu. I often get lost in my own thoughts, just soaking in the atmosphere. And speaking of soaking up, oh man, the sunsets over the Mediterranean? Unreal. I swear, sometimes I just wanna stand, stare, and go: "This is it, this is life."

Masterpiece Paintings by Paul Cezanne at Christie’s 20th Century Evening Sale