if you find a joe biden blowup doll in the attic, I call dibs
it's like i warped into dreamland and the only thing that makes sense is my solo cup
I cannot stress to you how much better your current situation is than listening to gay sex
Things found in my vomit last night: cell phone, Von Hayes rookie card, a boot, my dignity
Houston, we have a squirter
Hovering on the line between her being fuckable and me being too drunk to fuck. Life's juggling act in progress here.
I'm thinking about slathering myself with peanut butter and going to the dog park. What's the worst that could happen?
I'm thinking blowjobs and wheelchair sex should be part of any post-injury wellness plan.
It wasn't even dirty talking, it was more like the soothing gentle nonsense noises you make when you've spooked a horse.
That Kevin guy is something else...His penis is fucking glorious. And he has a way with words. If he lived here I'd be the conductor of the fuck caboose. I mean literally I would never want to get off that thing.
You shouldn't play strip poker when you're having a wet fart kind of day.
His exact words: "I don't have anything you can't treat with antibiotics."
it was all good until mid make out when he announced 'i just came'. ...he wasn't joking.
And on the 323rd day without sex, God finally said let there be light...or love?
I don't remember anything from last night, but at track I found my thong next to the high jump pit... So it must has been decent
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