he got wood on it!
i know. i had to sit in his lap on the plane. he also wore teva sandals.
...i was talking about hockey
Funny thing- my attraction to each one is inversely proportional to his level of availability.
if it were possible I'd exchange my vagina for a diff one on the black market.
i really thought "pants-shitting drunk" was an unreachable level until last night
I drew a venn diagram at the top of my final comparing stuff i know and stuff on the test.
I had to rush to my room and get my vibrator off my bed i didn't want him to know how long it's been since I had a decent fuck.
If you didn't damage your room so much from fucking so hard we would have got more of our security deposit back
I resent that
Seriously, come get him. He's not even a person anymore. He's a loud, drunk, cock-blocking wrecking ball.
I thought it was a myth but I have just reached the age of sitting on my balls. Not a fan.
Did you miss the part about my hangover needing a day to rest?
Oh yeah. I pretty much fucked the universes brains out lastnight. It was glorious.
I just formed the "shit on a tree in Chicago club." And I feel awful about it.
And I'm laying here struggling with the notion that I need to put pants on.
And a hot pocket after we fucked. Heaven.
Can you explain to me why I showed my boobs to the firemen to get free beer?
Randomize
