Sadie Berre L'etang Erotic Massage ❤️

About Marseille

Now, I’ve never DONE it—don’t judge me!—but I’ve researched, okay? Like a creep on X, scrollin’, readin’ posts. Some say it’s all about “release” without the—y’know—*big finish*. And I’m like, “What?! No way!” That’s torture! Imagine Adam, broodin’ vampire, gettin’ teased for hours—no blood, no payoff—just vibes. He’d lose it! “This is unbearable,” he’d growl. And I’d agree! Gimme closure, people!

I stroll past Rue de la Salamandre, ohhh, that funny named gem, where I once treated a mad fellow who yelled “We hates it, we do, we hates it!” after a long day, his muscles twisted in pain. Pff, poor bastard, but yess. The parks, oh! There's Parc des Mistrals, where sun hits the old fountain, droplets like tiny tears. I once left my massage table there, and oh blimey, a gecko crawled on it! Precious... but we laughed.

In a small French town where Houston-based LyondellBasell is a fixture, residents complain of unending pollution