I want to stick my p in your. b.
We can make salsa ya know, maybe even some hot sauce. That doesn't mean we're married.
All I'm saying is that whoever owned the wheelchair clearly didn't need it or they wouldn't have been able to leave it there
Showerbowl immediately followed by pullups naked. I feel like fucking Tarzan
I make your heart skip a beat like that pivotal moment when you open a public toilet lid
Whatever, consider condoms an eighteen year investment.
I could probably save all of the money I would have spent on condoms and put a kid through college.
At some point, it turned less into sparring and more into tough guy dry humping.
You don't understand. There's baclava and there's post sex baclava. You can't compare the two.
He literally wrote out a schedule. On it, there's a taco break, and a spot where I start crying.
I think I freaked him out last night. We got back to my place and I made chicken nuggets, chicken Alfredo, and half of one of those huge oreida hashbrown bags. And then ate all of it
The picture on Facebook I was just tagged in, with the mask, that is the definition of Carmen, my drunk alter ego
So I definitely tried to pay a cab with baseball tickets last night
His dog ate the vibrator. The WHOLE vibrator. We spend the morning after trying to make it vomit up the battery. Why does this always happen to me?
I like being woken up by phone calls of you sabotaging marriages
It took him 15 minutes to put the condom on.
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