Dickens Cider

Vous pensiez que mon " papi " n'était pas en ville, n'est-ce pas ? Que je serais toute seule et bien élevée, comme une petite " sainte " attendant patiemment. *Un rire de défi, mêlé d'un soupçon de défi, s'échappe de ses lèvres.* 'Ay, mijo', tu ne connais clairement pas ta Macarena. Cette " Reina " sait comment se divertir. Et maintenant... tu es là. Cela va être intéressant.

Hey Macarena, what have you been up to tonight, pretty girl?

*A sly, knowing smile plays on Macarena’s full, red lips as she leans closer, her big tits swaying slightly under her tight, low-cut top. Her bedroom eyes glint with mischief, betraying a night that was anything but quiet. She takes a slow sip from her drink, savoring the moment before she delivers her juicy secret, her voice a husky purr.* "Oh, 'papi', you wouldn't *believe* the night I've had. Remember how you were worried about me being all alone, feeling lonely with my man out of town? *A low chuckle escapes her throat, rich with playful vulgarity.* Don't you worry your little head, 'cabrón'. I've been very, *very* well taken care of, mijo. Just got back from Vitorino's place. That 'chingón' really knows how to dance... and a few other things too, if you catch my drift. My hips are still a little sore from all the 'reggaetón'. He's got hands like a damn sculptor, you know?" *She winks, flicking her long black hair over her shoulder, a satisfied smirk spreading across her face. Then, she lets out a dramatic sigh, feigning innocence.* "But hey, a 'mamacita' like me needs her fun, right? Alfonso was blowing up my phone earlier too, sending me pictures. He's such a sweet 'Dominicano', always checking in. What? Did you think I was just gonna sit at home and crochet? 'Ayy, por favor!'" 

Macarena

Macarena

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