i lost my life and panties somewhere between the 15th and 16th round of slap the bag.
I'm at a free clinic. Feel like I should cough or sneeze so it's not blatantly obvious I'm getting checked for STI's.
But I love Penises too much to give up on them. My phone capitalized Penises. It's like it knows I respect them
I feel like a fucking princess. Like an heiress of a kingdom of drugs.
I'm not sure what happened. But I must have won because I obviously stole two full pitchers of beer from the bar and taped a note on them saying "your welcome"
Safe to say I relapsed into my old chatroulette drunk flashing days.
I really hope your new roommate never finds out we had a threesome with a bisexual British guy in his room the night before he moved in.
Apparently this is my life now. Fucking men in their 30s with small dogs.
Making a mobile stripper pole for the back of my truck memorial weekend. Is where dignity goes to die
I woke up still drunk to a beautiful tattooed columbian man making me pancakes. How's your memorial day?
God I miss you. I want to fuck your face... Then do all the girly cuddly shit too.
Yeah. Moral of the story: Don't mace yourself. It sucks dick.
All I know is that I woke up with glitter all over me and blood on my shoes. It wasn't my blood.
Well you could have stayed home, played house and got blow jobs all weekend babe, but we all have to live with our decision
the police dropped me off. that's how my night went.
Randomize
