Our relationship is like that beach boys song "help me Rhonda" and I'm fucking Rhonda. And Rhondas's the whore in case you've never heard it.
you walked into the kitchen holding the skyy bottle and asked us "how do i warm this?"
I jerked off enough times today to safely commit to the fact that im not getting laid tonight
I think we need to find a happy medium between fried food and dicks. This could end badly.
Tried to eat a sandwich this morning. Couldn't. My jaw is locked up. These marathon blow jobs are killing me
You're cordially invited to the love nest for alcoholic and aquatic adventures. Also known as an all expense paid trip to my pool, alcohol, and vagina.
He just had a handle of vodka with ice in it yelling at people hot august night mother fuckaaaaa and was pouring it on his face
There were four people in the car. The girls sure know how to blow. I think we almost crashed when the driver climaxed.
Sex-sore abs and my workout pants have gravel stains on the knees. It's like the workout of shame.
I have vodka and explosives. For once, we can blow something up that isn't a blow-up doll.
On the plus side, I know I'm allergic to latex now. Like really fucking allergic
I'm sorry I peed on myself in front of your boy toy. You should tell him I'm usually not that trashy. It was nice meeting him tho..
I walked in and found you petting your fish outside the bowl, you said its fine, you do this all the Time.
I wore sunglasses to take a shower. I might be hungover.
Like seriously how stupid drunk do you have to get befor you start finding dolphin lighters and shit in your undergarments
Randomize
