Remember Dirty Dancing Havana Nights? My vagina does. If only he could’ve taught me how to dance on the beach of a pre-Castro Cuba. Instead I had to learn from a buncha drunk lez’s in the back room of a club that used to be a grocery store. Thanks a lot Florida. Now I’d like to thank Mexico. For giving me this beautiful slampiece to picture whenever I’m tryna rub one out and the newscaster starts talking about socialism.
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