I was just tapping my foot in the bathroom at Penn Station just PRAYING for anonymous sex. You know how that goes.
a man that wears gold spandex underwear and party boys other people is a man after my own heart.
It was like a drunk episode of Dora the Explorer. In English.
An eyelash just fell out into my container of rice. Searching for it, i took a single piece of rice out at a time coming to the coclusion that i should not be this high while eating rice.
Dude, I just spun my iPhone on my boner without it falling off. I belong in cirque du soleil.
We were making out in the bushes when some dude comes and starts peeing beside us.
When I take mushrooms I can feel your presence down there. I can feel where Africa is too.
This isn't just a hangover. I can feel the blood moving through my veins, and it hurts.
The topic of sex in the jamba banana suit has come up on multiple occasions. We're just waiting for a moment to try it out.
You know what would make the espn body photos even better? If anyone knew who any of those fucking athletes were. That, and maybe not feature Gary Player.
Yes I am wallowing. There is a significant lack of cookie dough
How do you forget making out with a coworker in the dressing room at Sears on more than one occasion?
...object impermanence?
I felt I lost my designated buddy on a field trip when you wandered off to get high with strangers.
He said 'I really struggle with the sin of lust' then we proceeded to have sex. So I guess it was a perfectly executed Catholic pick up line?
it looks like a nuclear can of fuck blew up in here
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