i don't remember her name, but i don't need it unless we decide to hook up again. but even then, i can get away with not knowing it for a while. it's not like we have actual conversations.
she was screaming in french about how classy it was to be drinking wine. oh... she was drinking it out of the bottle. with a beer in her other hand while throwing up.
He played with my vagina like it was a turntable
I think my plan to not drink this week was just ruined by my mothers discovery of the chat function on facebook
this morning i realized i came home with more condoms then i left. burn.
hey you forgot your wet suit in my room you can come grab it whenever
Even when you're not here I still manage to get pad thai in my vagina
I'm hungover and surrounded by children and Republicans. What did I do to deserve this?
Why can't I live in a world where my only 2 options are rum bikini hot tub party or masturbating?
All I know is I want him to tie me up at least twice a week and I have an overwhelming urge to cook for him. Could this be love? I'm so confused....
I can say with 87% certainty that i received one of the world's five greatest blow jobs since the Coolidge administration on Saturday night.
You've fucked so many I should get a word bank when you make me guess these things.
And he came all over himself. At least he didn't ruin my new lulus.
Actually though that could've been bad.
It's not safe here. I had urgent and violent diarrhea last night, and I got blackout drunk. Please don't come over.
God dammit everything I said last night about jungle juice being awesome just does not carry over into the next day
Randomize
