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About Florence

Love me some erotic-massage, fam! Hands slidin’, oils drippin’—makes Mr. T happy as hell. Ain’t no quickie backrub—takes skill, real slow, teasin’ moves. Got mad once, tho—dude rushed it, like “bro, this ain’t McDonald’s!” Pissed me off, wasted my cash. But when it’s good? Oh man, surprisin’ tingles everywhere—neck, thighs, you name it! Little secret: some pros use feathers—feathers, yo! Tickles in a sexy way, wild shit.

Hookups in Bari

The Sting is a movie about the power of images and scenery: about being overwhelmed by the senses and caught up in drama.

First off, I hit the streets of Rutigliano, and let me tell ya, the vibe was off. I mean, I love this place—those narrow streets like Via Roma and Via Dante, they got character, right? But today? Ugh. I’m walking, coffee in hand, feeling all fancy, when BAM! A pigeon decides my shoulder is its personal toilet. Like, seriously?! Thanks, buddy. Just what I needed.

Third race for state rep candidates in Trumbull's 123rd District