If there's ever a time when I've matured to the point that I don't want to look at camera-phone-titties, go ahead and bury me in a shallow grave by the railroad tracks.
I just remember her telling me "Hi, my names Kaissa and I'm a lesbian" over and over and over and over again as I was crying.
The cabbie told us to at least pretend we weren't doing coke while he was driving
I'm not sure how many more innuendos I can slip into this fucking conversation before I just blatantly say "I want to fuck you."
I know it I should, but it's kinda nice. It's smells like unbridled enthusiasm and copious amounts of melt your face off sex.
I dunno what he did but it both burns and feels amazing to pee
I walked in on him pumping himself up by headbanging to the drumbeat from Jumanji.
We had sex and I never took my mets hat off... I feel like Duda knows and approves.
Hey, you can never be fully sure you're straight until you jerk off to gay porn
I have already put on my inside pants.
It feels appropriate that the wallet of my high school and college years would die at the hands of a spilled bong. Which in and of itself is a solid metaphor for those years.
Welp. It's confirmed. There is literally no lube on this entire island. Fuck me. More accurately, don't fuck me.
All our friends are getting married, and I'm the dateless guy bringing molly to their weddings.
Is it uncouth to masturbate the night before a gyno appointment?
tell me about the eggs
Randomize
