you're like the ceasar milan of boners... you understand them on a different level.
It's fine actually... I'm pretty sure he had the crookedest weiner in the world anyway.
Like he had it hanging in the wind and you just decided, "nope, I don't think that one's for me." ????
God no! I could just feel it. His clock said it was 8:00 when, clearly, it should have been midnight.
If one more person calls me a lesbian I am going to have to give you head in public.
my bed looks and feels like i need to buy plan b.
someone needs to make a hangover cure that isn't cocaine.
i licked icing off his dick. in front of his sister.
the boys love us. they call us "the stoner girl suite down the hall". not very inspired, but flattering nonetheless
I need to stop ravaging the freshman dorm like a virginity-snatching dragon.
I told him I was very thankful for what his country has done to my vagina and walked away.
Pants off. Spirits lifted.
Ya. My thumbs are those buffalo's, but my legs are spirits and my torso is that Indian guys and my head is the eagle
He was "hot guy in the dark". One of us had to sleep with him. I took the bullet you're welcome.
Update: day 5 and Scott has not left the apartment. Still smoking. Pizza roll supply dwindling.
he just fluffed my hair and told me I had to dance with him because we were both gingers.
Fly, little bird! Repopulate the ginger race!
He is more interested in finding his sweater than he is in having sex with me. It better be a great fucking sweater.
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