Mediterranean selfy

I was never the same after I drank all that gazpacho on the beach. So cold and red. You know, blood red, not in the scary way, but on the sexy one. As if I was drinking someone. Allowing him inside of me. His liquids going all over my insides. First in my mouth. Then on my chest. A soft splash in my tits. All the way to my belly, and then, you know... Just the thought of it makes my mussels squeeze. All of them. I melt with the memories of that frozen tomato. Shit... Remember that paela? Pallella? hahaha. Whatever. That sea of flavours in my mouth. Gently opening the shells, biting them, drinking their juice and softly letting their flesh join the gazpacho on my beaming intestines...Oh..Yeah...Yes! I know rice is for, like, homeless and Chinese people, I'm not stupid. But think of how exotic. How vulgar and what a turn on it is. To fall from the summit of occidental power on the arms of a simple rice grain. One body between many others. An orgy of animal sensations. Hmmmm... Barcelona... What a hot piece of land. If it weren't for that annoying stuff around us all the time. No, not the mosquitos. No, it's not tortillas either. Don't be a racist Tracy, they're not spaniards! F***, what are they called? F** Chr*** **ake! The locals! Oh yes, the catalans. Poor guys. I pity them, really. I even bought one of those solidarity beers they sell for 1€ on street. But it is not my fault they're on deep shit. If America decided to send Drones to their country, we must have our reasons.God has its ways. Who am I to change that? I'm just here for fun ;)
See you next year!