I don't think he has that. His apartment was pretty much a tv and a bed. Topless girl calendar and a glass of water to put out cigarettes.
Reach down the front of your pants and feel around for a while. When you find your balls, leave the library and meet me at the bar.
We had one of those mutual "I know your on a dating website, I won't tell if you won't" glances.
We had sex in the ocean but the tide took our clothes away too. Its no fun walking back to the dorm wearing only a beach blanket between you.
I introduced him to the male G-Spot. Don't ever tell me I'm not experienced.
Just drove through Taco Johns wearing a drug rug and no pants. When I rolled down my window, the girl paused for a minute before saying "um... 4.07"
I can only get completely wasted and hungry two more times and then we're out of fritos.
I'm starting to think my role in the world is to inject batshit crazy, mentally unbalanced chicks with a dose of normal sperm.
You're wonderful. How are you always such a good friend?
50% genetics, 50% driven by a desire for people to drunkenly eat donuts at my funeral and then have fantastic cry-sex afterward.
He got a new tattoo in prison. It's actually a good tattoo, making it that much harder for me to hold out until he's off house arrest.
I wouldn't call that a crush. It was more of a minor brain aneurism.
Let's just say his oral game was lacking. Hell, lacking is too nice of a word to describe it.
Well, he kept asking me if I was going to murder him once we got upstairs. It sort of killed the mood.
The next morning I found her spread eagle asleep on the living room floor and he was asleep with his head in her crotch. I needed a ride and had to wake them up.
I dropped my slice of pineapple on the kitchen floor and was just staring at it about to cry. It was really good pineapple.
Randomize
