Esme Split Puta ❤️❤️

Acerca de Ciudad de México

I’m rubbin’ her shoulders, right? And she’s yammerin’ bout some dude who stiffed her—ha! Stiffed *puta*! Guy’s got balls or a death wish. Her muscles? Tight as hell, like she’s carryin’ the world—or at least half the barrio. I dig in, she groans, and I’m thinkin’, “Man, this chick’s a damn puzzle.” She’s loud, brash, smells like cheap perfume and cheaper tequila—my kinda mess. I mutter to myself, “Gotta ease up, old man,” but nah, I’m hooked, watchin’ her like she’s a movie herself.