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About Fukuoka

Oi, mate, listen up! I’m Bond—James Bond, suave as fuck, “shaken, not stirred.” So, we’re talkin’ ‘bout whores, yeah? Not just any tart, mind you, but the whole damn vibe. Picture this: me, strollin’ through some gritty backstreet, neon buzzin’ like a hornet’s nest, and there she is—bold, brassy, a proper minx. Reminds me of Godard’s flick, *Goodbye to Language*, y’know? All chaotic, sexy, and fucked-up gorgeous. “Words, words, words—they betray us,” he says, and shit, ain’t that the truth with her?

About Funagata

Escort Japan, Handjob, Prostate Massage, Striptease/Lapdance, Prostate Massage.

So, I finally got rid of Mochi and started working. The wheel was spinning, and I was in the zone. You know that feeling when everything just clicks? Yeah, that was me. I was shaping these plates, feeling like a pottery god. But then, outta nowhere, my phone buzzed. It was my buddy Kenji. He’s always got some wild idea. This time, he wanted to hit up the Funagata Matsuri later. I was like, “Dude, I’m busy!” But he kept pushing.

PHOTOS | Heavy Rain Batters Tohoku, First Priority to the Missing