i should write a book entitled 'the joys of being sexually objectified'
Why do you proceed to call me "Queen La Queefah?"
He was passed out on the floor holding a beer can, rolled over switched hands and never spilled a drop. We need to practice.
after he came i started crying. just to fuck with his head.
She was perfectly content just sitting in the middle of everyone blowing bubbles in the air.
Just flooded the bathroom while masturbating in the shower. Managed to squeege most of it up. Desperately need to get laid.
Divorce is final. Doing tequila shots at 1 in the afternoon.
I don't know who the girl crying at my kitchen table eating gravy from the KFC container is, but I feel like she could be my soulmate
After Thursday my breakup "don't screw anybody out of respect" month will be over and I will be set loose. My pussy is purring with anticipation.
I was told my cock was a religious experience.
I'm in the woods tripping balls the water is rising why don't you answer me
Love waking up to a new contact named “Pizza” btw
Who put the toilet in the living room? This is extremely inconvenient right now.
That ass isn’t going to eat itself.
Are you coming over for scrambled eggs and hand jobs?
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