i should write a book entitled 'the joys of being sexually objectified'
just woke up with a thong on my face, dont remember going home with anyone and its way too big for it to be a good thing
Fact: Telling a guy he has erectile dysfunction doesn't solve the problem.
I have a page in my 2010 scrapbook dedicated to pictures of his cock.
Just walk straight and zig zag through cars tell you get to the road. That's where I am. Perpendicular to the doors do not make any turns
fun fact #6 about tuesday nights: giving head with two 40s taped to your hands is not as easy as you would think
his face was nice enough, but his choice of footwear screamed columbian drug lord
All I know is that I'm not gonna send out SOS messages via twitter for your rescue this time.
I'm like a savant for remembering names I learned while I was drunk. Seriously, I'm three for three. I'm on a roll.
I also tried to solve my dog's itching problem with crystal healing. I'm so high, dude.
I just rubbed amethyst all over him and kept saying 'no bites.'
You left a motherfucking bruise. ON MY TIT. How? How do you even. No.
i liked you for your lack of ambition and abundance of weed
He was nothing but deer-caught-in-headlight eyes and dick, it was adorable
Dude, never piss off a hungover boss.
There were no words. I got in his car, took my pants off, threw my shirt out the window, and got things started. After we were done I collected my clothes, gave him a kiss, and crept back into my house.
You're like the sex ninja. How doesn't he love you?!
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