I wasn't fucked. I was just drunk, because i was still able to walk into the woods and masterbate.
The guy I was getting with last night took off his purity ring mid-sex and threw it across the room.
I just threw up and a whole piece of spaghetti came out of my nose. I don't even remember eating spaghetti.
just left the emergency room. condom extraction.
I'm in new territory... I've never had to convince a guy to let me give him head as an apology.
i'm sorry i gave your brother a handjob while you were on the blanket next to us, but to be fair your back was turned.
good news: I made it out of bed and into shower. Bad news: I made it back to bed without clothes. Worse news: I don't know this bed.
well, obviously he didn't fuck me for my strong moral fiber.
I have to stop letting him stay all weekend. I feel like a cored apple.
So I have to borrow my moms car tomorrow to go pick up my ID from the strip club so I can board my plane tomorrow
Don't let me publish my memoir unless "hurt my ankle drunk irish dancing" is at least the title of a chapter because that is really the whole story of my life.
The closest I'll come to committing is leaving sex toys at their house
Well, that's not my fault. I make decisions all the time when I'm drunk.
Oh, do you remember telling everyone you were with that your vagina was angry last night?
How you run into a glAss door three times in a row I do not know
Randomize
