I'm at the bar and I just saw some unnecessary and accidental cooter...sometimes I think girls need a license to go out pantyless in public.
The last thing i remember was high fiving everyone on the planet.
It was an awkward 3some. I took her from behind while he just made out with her.
Rolling one last joint on my Psych textbook before trading it in. I might actually cry.
I'm thinking we can stop tracking my sex life by the hotels I've hooked up in and instead use bar bathrooms I've gotten head in.
He scratched off my spray tan. Literal nail marks down my back. Can't imagine what's underneath his fingernails.
I have no words
Neither did my mom, when she walked in on me squating with my balls in a cup of hot water.
I can't drink with the moms anymore. All they talk about is lactating.
Regardless of age or alcohol consumption, the knowledge that my dad spanks my mom sexually has the very real potential to fuck my shit up.
There's that certain point at night when you start saying things like s'mores should be used in foreign relations. I reached it.
I would go a lot of places to get laid. But I would NOT go to Staten Island.
Stocking up on Wasabi powder. Nobody's tampons are safe.
Why does 2015 have to start with so many regrets?
What has my life come to that I have to spank someone in morse code?
How much glitter would I have to ingest in order for a "magnificent" amount to appear in my ejaculate?
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