when I woke up she was standing in the living room with a bottle of scotch because she is "allergic to hangovers"
This is not a drunk text right now. This is an i want your dick text. There is a difference.
Somewhere between the 2 hours of sex and her urgently rushing to work she manged to steal all $329.33 in my jeans. Worst one night stand ever, she even took the pennies.
Oh they knew you from a bachelorette party! You were the pole?
Ohhh shit yeah that was me. Fuck. I hate myself when I do that.
I saw Nicolas Cage's face in the moon. Those were good shrooms.
I remember doing shots of gin, then I have this strange memory of us making out in the womens room at waffle house.
I regret none of it.
I faked an orgasm during phone sex last night. This relationship is starting to become real.
Walking in on a gay threesome, with a girl in the corner watching and taking vid is a reason to not only knock, but to never go to Savannah.
Also, since I switched back to this phone I've found a crop of dick pics and your funeral arrangements.
She told me her last name, which as you know is my #1 turn-off.
Finding an empty bathroom to shit on campus is like the quest for the fucking Holy Grail. Except with more stench and humiliation.
It's going to be like a slumber party but with ketamine
I just need a fucking pair of pants. Is that too much to ask for?
He once bought a dildo and put fifty dollars and a happy anniversary note in the battery compartment I gotta lock him down while hes available
Can you send me the picture of me licking the cows udders?
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