Love Trips: The End!

Every love story has an ending. Some end amicably, like my ending with Alex, my Patron (sin limon) tossing, “woosah”-minded Mexican. Our "relationship" ceased to exit after I picked up my cell and gave him my bendicion to go fuck with the Myspace, teta-flashing hoochies he friended and ogled. He could also add the medical assistants he flirted with while at work to that list. And I'm not sure if it was the intoxicating smell of tacos reminding him of the motherland or that he hadn't grabbed a big chunk of ass since we began dating (my nargas are lumpy not chunky), but Alex often drooled when we passed the voluptuous girl poster that was plastered over the front door of Olmeca Restaurant. Go to Love Trips: The End! to read the rest!