I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
i have a reoccuring irrational fear i'm going to walk in on my dad masterbating. Night.
hey boys, thanks for all the pictures of your dick you took with my camera last night...they were really nice to stumble upon while reliving my night in the breakroom today at work
She gives pretty bad head, but when it's in her dad's Lexus SUV it's tough to complain.
I just had to tell her that no she really doesnt need to sneak pizza from mcmurrays out in a plastic bag for me later
There is an empty space on my boobs where glow paint should be.
Apparently, my drunken 3AM idea of safety is to send a GPS map of my location to someone 700 miles away. Seriously considering death as a viable alternative to this hangover. Death or Yuengling.
Her next conquest seems to be stealing her ex-boyfriend's new girlfriend. Pretty sure everyone involved is totally OK with this.
How do I ask where the Jello shot cups are at Walmart without sounding like white trash?
Last thing I remember was a hand in the pants. Then I woke up next to a full beer and a McDouble, which I promptly had for breakfast.
Well there's a microwave in my yard now too. I fucking Bruce/Caitlyn Jennered decathloned that bitch.
He surprised me with a puppy tail butt plug in his ass and wants me to fuck him
p.s i need to stop drunk texting my mom. she brings up text convos all the time and i have no idea what shes talking about...
You'd think it'd be fun living next door to a guy whose neck you once licked. Surprise, it's not.
I usually do that but weve been going unprotected with tribal fertility symbols painted above my door
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