I have a running excel spreadsheet detailing the number of shots in a night and subsequent ability to masturbate
i'm sitting in the library realizing that the 2 most productive things i did this weekend was have sex and go to the liquor store...
Training to be a housewife: cleaning the house and masturbating while cookies are in the oven.
Well, a cop just pulled up. This could go either way.
So I commented on one of his pictures "who do I have to give a full effort blow job to, to get the Ides of March movie poster behind you" he responded with a number that wasn't his. I still texted it. I love that movie.
I need like a hormone stopper. Or a chastity belt. Or like a lady business alarm that goes off when I'm being too drunk.
I opened my eyes this morning, looked at the sunlight and made this hangover my bitch.
Court can wait. right now you and your magic penis need to be here satisfying me.
I have a fever. Last thing I need to do tonight is be elbow deep in old lady pussy.
I am putting together a break up mix and its pretty much the best of Phil Collins
The Wolf of Wall Street “I ain’t fuckin’ leaving!” speech when the cops broke up your party though...
That awkward moment when the guy you were hitting on at the bar last night is a possible suspect in a murder case.
If I wasn't planning on spend the rest of my life with you I wouldn't send you so many nudes, so fucking appreciate it
woke up to find a case of beer in the oven and a random puppy in the house...guess i had a party last night?
His hair is as curly as mine. It was like watching me go down on myself.
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