He asked me to sit on his face, but i didnt, for 2 reasons, one, i had just pooped like 20 mins before sex, and two, this could be my future husband. so i skipped on sitting.
May or may not have found my way onto a stripper bus. To Chicago.
This is a whole other level of drinking. Like the I used to eat paste with these people kinda drinking.
I knew it was different as soon as you told me you slept with him and didn't tell me about his dick
It was horrifying, i havent seen a girls mouth open that wide since that one episode of Goosebumps..
at least you know where his tattoos end, so it wasn't a complete waste of time.
I was told my cock was a religious experience.
By the end of the first quarter he was so hammered he was pouring beer into the crockpot with the miniature hot dogs and BBQ sauce saying he loved the supper bowl and he loves taking mini weinies to the face
Dear God, please let me get my period. And if this one is fiercer than usual I completely understand.
And then I discovered that while drunk last night I called the NAACP and left an angry voicemail demanding they fix the racism at my school
I love that there are toys on the counter. Coffee, tea, wine bottles, gag ball, and handcuffs.
My kitchen gets me.
I just ordered a "football meatlong" from subway
I am 95% sure I just heard my cat say "What are you doing home? It's Saturday night."
The dicks good but it's not two trains and a bus good.
I'm starting to notice a direct correlation between blackouts and broken bones...
Randomize
