The guy drove to our house at 6am to sell us weed. Now that's customer service.
i really wish someone from a royal background would fuck me so i could literally say i was 'royally fucked'.
shes on the floor puking and texting simultaneously.
All he did was lie there and used his hands to keep pace. He was like the metronome of sex.
And "sexual slave/chef" was as it turns out not a real career choice...
i just remember sitting on this bed, naked, STILL WITH A CONDOM ON, and suddenly these random girls were in the room shouting at me
No more fucking baseball tools. Walk-of-shamed home in only a pinstriped jersey and a Red Sox SnapBack.
After the nose/jizz incident i think our relationship can handle anything.
How can I not totally like a guy that told me my boobs were too big for me to be taught how to play golf?
You just wrote a check for drugs...pretty sure you don't have cash for beer..
I poured somre cereal, realized the chocolate to flake ratio was off, tried to fix it by digging through the box, gave up because of the difficulty level, and poured it back in the box. Being high is the best diet.
This hangover is what we deserve after that level of debauchery.
I'm pretty sure the rest of my evening will consist of masturbating, drinking tequila and watching children's movies.
Do you know this guy sitting in front of us? Asking for my vagina.
That’s all I need in life: vibrators, butt plugs, strawberry lube, and sour gummies
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