There is only so much cookie dough and masturbating I can handle in one night.
there was enough confetti in my bra to throw another NYE party
Changed my mind. Wearing a dress. Casual, with a side of breasts.
Had dinner with my ex husband. The box of wine is gone and I'm laying on the floor in my wedding dress. Where are you?!
He's covered in dirt and enchiladas. We're going drinking now.
I'm mentally preparing my vagina for this semester. It's fucking welcome week. I'm going to be talking to her all night.
He gave me an elaborately handwritten invite (on a bar coaster) back to his place and whispered in my ear 'i have ping pong'. And he said byob. fuck THAT.
He slow fucked me. Doggy style. On a porch. You never slow fuck doggy style. Its a law. A LAW.
I vaguely remember having a cowboy explain his belt buckle to me in the bathroom hallway
As part of the off-hours team building exercises, I had my new coworkers figure out to push me back to the hotel from the nearby bars in a shopping cart every night for a week.
I climbed out of the shower to him sitting on the floor trimming his pubes with nail clippers, we both just started laughing at how drunk we were
I feel like I owe her child an apology or something after blowing my load on the tattoo she has of her.
At least his std test came back clean, gotta look at the positives here
I masterbated to his instagram page. Too far or....?
You think my vibrator will be okay in the dishwasher?
Randomize
