I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
so i woke up this morning covered in mail. none of it is mine.
vagina is talking i cant
i guess it wasn't a booty call since he got home from the club at 6:00 am... he told me to consider it morning sex
Before you ask, yes. Whatever you're wearing IS too slutty for his mom's funeral.
This is a whole other level of drinking. Like the I used to eat paste with these people kinda drinking.
No, my body just knows its the weekend and wants to rage. Very different from alcoholism
Somehow me showing up to/breaking into her house only to find I was a week early for the party became a night of weed cookies and sex.
what are we doing this weekend?
I have enough booze to get us through Armageddon...which basically means that on Sunday we will have to make a trip to the liquor store.
Whoever brought the pigeon, please come and remove it from my living room.
i'll booty call him tonight after the radiohead concert, that way he can see his favorite band and his favorite vagina all in one night.
After you tried speaking to him in whale you asked if you could see his "blow hole." That's how bad it was.
"he sent me a picture of a puppy in return for a picture of my boobs. He then captioned it with "look it's puppies first time at the beach". "
Why is there a mildly painful bruise on my back?
You slipped off the sink last night.
Why was I on the sink......?
;)
The weirdest part of it all was wondering if I was going to take off his fanny pack or he was before we fucked
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