On a scale of affliction to ed hardy, how douchy is in there right now?
u know what's depressing? a picture of an owl without a graduation cap
There's a hand-carved wooden bong in my backpack, and i really wish i could remember last night now.
There's a transgender game of twister in the basement...God doesnt want me to type this paper.
The swelling on my elbow and tongue means I may have cockblocked myself.
She cracked her neck before the blowjob and I knew shit just got real.
She was bending and I said "finally, about time". Wrong, she was tying her shoe. No blowjobs for me.
The nun costume is coming back hard and it still has glitter and the smell of Vegas on it.
Best. Text. Ever.
Would you like to get an apartment bong? It can be like our pet and we can give it a name.
I just wanted to check in on you and you replied with a selfie with your Coney Island waiter and the caption "after his shift we're dropping acid together"
I just realized my hands still smell like your cock. Which is awesome, but I wonder if the clerk at the store appreciated it.
I feel bad. I'm the reason hand sanitizer exists.
This is the perfect outfit to do ketamine in, I must say
Ugh. I just found a cum stain on my mermaid pants. Now I can't return them.
I masterbated to his instagram page. Too far or....?
Ehh, the third backed out. Two still isn't bad. Who gets a bootycall to pick them up from a bootycall's house anyways? Only me.
Randomize
