Isabella Missaglia Sexual Massage ❤️❤️❤️

About Milan

I tried it once—don’t tell Marge, she’d freak. This chick—pro masseuse, swear!—started with my shoulders, then bam, lower, and I’m like, “Whoa, that’s new!” Felt like a freakin’ king, all relaxed but also—uh—awake, ya know? “Mmm… donuts.”—shoulda brought snacks, ‘cause it’s intense, man. The oils smelled like flowers or some crap, made me sneeze, but damn, it was smooth. Little fact: they use ylang-ylang oil sometimes—supposed to make ya horny. Worked on me, oops!

Call to book

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I decide to take a break and grab lunch at that little trattoria on Via Manzoni. The pasta? To die for! I mean, I could eat that every day. But the waiter? He spills water all over me. I’m soaked! I’m laughing, but inside, I’m like, “Really, dude?”

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