I looked him in the face and asked if we could stop. he asked why. I said "I can't feel it.". ...I feel bad; I should have faked.
in the middle of it he kept shouting: im going to be masturbating to this for the rest of my life
i actually just woke up with a lampshade on my head. god damn cliches.
its was like we drinking an entire bottle of mystery
we got plastered, then made lists of anything thats ever been in our vaginas
I know. Brad is upset because he was lower on the list than "that carrot stick"
with all this snow coming, and no school, I figure why not try every possible liquor snowcone.
Fortunately for myself I'm twice as smart and half as drunk as everyone else. All things considered I'm leaving here three-to-five times richer than when I arrived.
He walked in at 7am saying that the police had his shoes and phone because he's being investigated for attempted auto theft.
i had an epiphany while laying on the driveway for 5 hours yesterday.
i realized i waste a lot of time
I just really wish I could go back and unsex him. Waste of my vagina.
I have this vague feeling that I was involved in a dance off with a homeless man?
All I ever do is give guys anxiety problems and flaccid penises.
We got drunk, we had raw sex and we discussed about the showrunner change in Doctor Who, in that order.
Write this down so you can tell me in the morning. "That bartender needs to be in my mouth."
I feel like i'm being yelled at when you type in all caps.Did you just have bad sex?
Randomize
