Conclusion from last night: Sometimes being classy isn't as fun as making out with a guy on a pooltable in a bar. Happy birthday, Canada.
He can't get past my hymen. At least that's what he said it feels like.
It was like my butthole was peeing. Felt comforting yet not fulfilling.
Talk about the highs and lows of a night out: had a threesome, then got robbed at knifepoint.
When you went through airport security you asked if the could check if a baby was in there. That drunk.
I voted for him because his wife supports his raging sex life.
Can we end it on a good note at least? Can we fuck and then never talk again?
I'm sitting at my desk looking through our payroll system photos to find my next boyfriend. Abuse of power or awesome?
Dude, you flipped off a cat from my balcony and yelled at it to get a house
I need to stop getting high and watching documentaries. Wanna go to Japan with me and protest the mass genocide of dolphins?
You're his holy grail. The moment he finally gets you to orgasm he'll probably just retire and become a monk.
My parents are now taking hits off a joint. Thank you.
Is she blowing you? I'm in the closet.
Dude. Don't do acid and go to Disney on ice. Hear my warnings. That snow monster will fuck your shit up.
My last one night stand called me today. Apparently I gave him a yeast infection in his mouth. Not sure how I should feel about this.
Randomize
