Found a bar with a washer and dryer and they serve food. I never have to leave
I'm tempted to see how fat I can get before he leaves me. It's obvious we're playing a game of chicken here.
My birthday was already very memorable but her punching me in the face put it over the top. I love being 25 and still not giving a fuck.
So, we estimated there is at least 40 pounds of boob in our house.
Whiskey dick has taught us to be smart with our time.
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'm having an emotional breakdown watching baby sloths on YouTube you need to come save me from myself.
I was trying to fart in my sleep in the hopes that he would leave
Negotiating with my body. We're ok. Violent upheaval is not necessary.
Not a or good or bad impression, just that you were all basically naked playing beer bong in sombreros and ties. Casual.
Dude. Photoshop a Santa hat on your mug shot and send it as your Christmas cards.
I jammed my finger giving him a hand job. Don't ask how, I'm still trying to figure that out.
I put on that one song on Titanic so he'd fall asleep. When I was positive he'd passed out in a drunken fit, he outstretches his arms and says "I'm flying, Jack.."
I guarantee you he will only fuck with old bitches from now on
Just blew on a shot of whiskey to cool it off, like it was soup...
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