So im pretty sure the object of my emotional onterest is tired of playing with me....
Unless you watched your mom's very literal rendition of "I touch myself" while she was wearing a bikini, your vacation wasn't as bad as mine.
He told me to pretend to be a shark, and he would slay me with his harpoon cock.
I just looked at all of our spring break pictures... there's a guy getting a blow job in the background of the ones on the beach.
I'll be there in 5 min. If not, read this again.
All he wants to do is masturbate while I sit there with my big toe up his ass that is not even the worst part of it.
It was sunday, you had a camel back of bloody mary stumbling around a dog park with no dog.
I distinctly remember seeing your nipples from the deck.
Santa brought me a 1.75 of wine, and a liter of patron. I probably won't remember Christmas, so don't ask me how it was tomorrow.
i know i said i'd always be there for you, but i'm beginning to think that what you call "being there for me" the american judicial system calls reckless endangerment.
and it seems i've caught your masturbating bug. thanks.
He put himself in the friend zone by calling me dude all night so I blew his friend. Judge me.
So we decided we're going to stop having sex...except for tonight. And probably tomorrow.
I kid you not. He let me in into his house, showed me the putt putt in his backyard. Offered to play me.
and then you proceeded to throw soup at him for calling you a bitch...a CAN of soup...
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