my "about me" section on Facebook should read "hell-bound alcoholic who wants to fuck a 40-year-old crackhead"
I'm upset that MJ died and all but waking up to his face on my HDTV in the middle of the night while half-asleep is pretty much the scariest fucking thing ever.
i don't know where i am. i made bad decisions. i think this guy is dead.
There are taser marks on me. Your face flashed before my eyes when i woke up and saw them.
I'm sure me singing - rather loudly - "fuck me in the back seat" last night didn't help either.
When he sent me a picture, I swear my vag frowned. That tiny.
i'm scootering my little heart out so i'm not late for a weed pickup. this is the meaning of adolescence
All I've succeeded in doing since I saw you is drool on my shoulder
I just asked her to come in through the window, this pretty much solidifies the whole fuck-buddy thing...
When I die, I want you to spread my ashes at a Cracker Barrel.
Pretty sure my boner drove me home. Like it didn't just do the steering it was the gas and brake too..
He sent me nudes and I told him he reminded me of Buffalo Bill.
He was the perfect gentleman on our first date. Took me out for candlelit dinner at a fancy restaurant, held open the door, walked me home, and made me cum three times before he got his.
Decided to stay in tonight. Completely sober. Just got two drunken booty calls within 5 minutes of each other. This is my life.
you can see where the duct tape was on my nipple
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