I woke up this morning to the buzzer on my oven going off... I cooked fish sticks at 425 degrees for 5 hours last night. my house smells awesome
Hotel room at 3 am. She's 42. Stockings and heels. All because I opened with a joke about cougar hunting. We'll high-five later.
Did I get blown in the bathroom? Yes. Did she throw up cranberry juice on my shorts? Yes. Did she finish the job? Yes.
it was a weeks worth of wine for $20. it would have been fiscally irresponsible to not buy it.
Did I hear correctly when it sounded like he said "just don't let me throw up into your vaj?"
Hurry up. Some creepy guy with a "God is vengeful" flyer is asking where I wanna go most today. I think he's going to chop me into pieces.
The thing is that despite the high paying career and the increased responsibility, my life hasn't changed that much. Only instead of blacking out on $2 wells at some dive I blackout on top shelf martinis in a suit. Oh and only on Fri & Sat nights. Being 30 doesn't suck as bad as everyone led me to believe.
How interesting! I'm adding this to my list of things to discuss with you between fucks.
Did you seriously just hashtag my sex life as #yolo2013?
I woke up to the sound of him repeatedly tapping out SOS in Morse Code using his hard cock.
It's official. I'm gonna fuck hot art class guy. But this won't be like hot Samsung guy. I'm gonna make sure I follow through this time.
I just text my one night stand Happy Easter on her way home...now would be a good time for the lord to smite me.
we turned the lights off and all you could see were my glow in the dark stars and his penis
Coming straight to your house after the flight. If not in Federal Prison for disobeying peanut laws.
How is there a hawk inside this house? More importantly how the hell is he handling it without any gear?
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