He called me "the Joe Montana of blowies." Not sure if that is an accomplishment or an insult, but going off of the amount of condensation on the windows of my car, I'm gonna just do a little touchdown dance and pass out.
You were hopping up and down because you wanted only his strongest sperms to make it to the egg.
Darwin at his finest.
I need to shower. I still have paint on me from the homeless guys
Weekdays seemed more exciting when I had a drinking problem. Like I had something to look forward to at night.
No way. Our relationship is based solely on texting and sex. A phone call would be too much at this point.
Just woke up and my doorbell is on my nightstand... the fuck?
Can we end it on a good note at least? Can we fuck and then never talk again?
I'm giving you a get out of sober free card for one of the nights
I defriended her. I just can't support someone whose profile picture is of their water birth.
I realized after pounding back 151 and head banging into each other to "the drop" of that dub step song, that we weren't meant to have boyfriends at this point in time.
I work nights. I sleep in. I take online classes. And fuck bad bitches. I'd say those are some perks to grad school.
We trekked into the state forest, laid the comforter down and he proceeded to tell me that we could stay here and stargaze, turned me around and fucked me like the lion king.
It's astonishing how many Ludacris lyrics you know
I don't care. We're going to fuck. And I WONT apologize in the morning. You cheated on me, so you can cheat on her with me.
Its like he got lessons from Jesus on how to use his tongue. And his dick.
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