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Last week I wrote this short little blog about what certainly appeared to be the least discreet underground rub and tug of all time in Middleborough:
I mean, come on guys. Hot therapist women? Regular shower room? New cute? Fun? Could you possibly be more obvious? Number one rule of rub and tugs – don’t talk about the rub and tugs. And this is the exact opposite of that. Looks like I won’t be getting Mr. Turtlegirl that gift certificate after all.
Anyway, this just happened:
Sorry guys!! Looks like you’re gonna have to have sex with your wives or bust out the laptop again. My bad. If it makes you feel better the girl in there probably live in cages and came here in a crate. So you might not get your meat popsicle shined up, but at least you can rest easy knowing you didn’t get arrested for partaking in sex slavery.