So I'm cool with the whole break up, but it sure is a shame we didn't get to use those handcuffs.
He asked me how my body knew that a month was up when it was time for my period.
I miss waking up knowing you're passed out under my bed.
I'm trying to make a sex playlist
record yourself crying and put it on a loop.
I see your smile in the face of every drunk that senses he's about to slay a troll.
Touche. Dude, I fastened garters. Drunk. I deserve a medal from a drag queen.
Your boyfriend and I are bonding over your giant dick.
I think this agreement was sent by God. I get to do my own thing, get laid, and he still makes me breakfast in the morning.
That's just weird. That doesn't make sense sexually at all. I mean, you might as well tape a pen to the tip and try and write your name while you're at it.
He made me brush his hair afterwards because it made him feel like a ken Barbie.
God I hope the sex was good.
I tried getting kicked out of my favorite bar. No matter what I did, I could do no wrong
You introduced yourself and she said "wow that's a long name" and you went "yeah well you should see my dick."
I feel like my sexual preferences are just another sign that I am a 75 year old drag queen in a 29 year old woman's body.
I'm about to order this penis-casting kit so text me within 5 mins if you're not down
She started calling me daddy on the second date and I don't know how to react to that
Randomize
