Small Package, Big Attitude

Girl, let me tell you about this wild-ass night that still makes me giggle when I remember it. So there I was, wearing this tight red dress that had men turning heads like owls obviously when my friend calls me: “Cristina, ven pa’ acá que te presento a alguien”.

Enter Mr. “I Swear It’s Cold in Here”.

Now listen, pana… this man was FINE. Tall, smelled like expensive cologne, with hands smoother than my waxing skills. But when he pulled me into his car later that night “to talk”, honey… that little shrimp he whipped out could’ve doubled as a clitoris. I’m talking baby carrot status. Tic Tac energy.

Did I laugh? Hell noI’m a professional.

Instead, I batted my lashes and went “Aww, qué lindo… let me warm him up for you”. Next thing you know, I’m bent over the console of his Audi, slurping on that micro-dick like it’s the last mango ice cream in Caracas. The man was shaking, mami! Moaning like I had him hooked up to some Venezuelan black magic.

“Dios mío, you’re so good at this” he gasped.

“Practice, papi” I purred lying through my damn teeth.

When he came (after, like, two minutes), that sad little dribble barely wet my lipstick. But please believe I swallowed like an Olympic champ, then patted his thigh like “Good effort, soldier”.

The kicker? He tried to give me his number after. Marico… the audacity! I just winked and said “Maybe next time you grow an inch” before strutting off to find a real challenge.

Even a tricycle can take you for a fun ride… if you’re drunk enough.