Somewhere in this world my second husband is in 9th grade.
he wanted me to put the condom on for him. I was high and couldn't figure it out.. so instead we played xbox.
She only remembers me when she's drunk. It's like I'm a suppressed memory that only surfaces with alcohol.
Im 95% ready to shit behind 711
It's that "make a Pringle and Twinkie sandwich" kind of depression.
All I know is that every time I looked at my glass it was full again and I thought it would be rude not to drink it
Halfway through the blowjob she stopped and said 'Wait I know this dick'.
We need to get stoned and watch Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles 2. This has become a priority. Schedule accordingly.
I also woke up on my floor. Naked. On a pile of clothes. With my head in the trash can. And a sheet over me.
I have no idea why my husband is mad that I came home at 4 am & all I want to do is eat spaghettios. It's not fucking spaghettios fault.
He ordered a meatball sub with a side of meatballs.
I can hear the pillow talk now, "how many condoms did you bring? Good, put them all on,"
So is it your turn now to pretend like dating someone else would stop us from fucking?
Are you drinking tequila at 1pm? ...at Disneyland?
He spent ten minutes post bj, limp cock still out, in shock repeating 'best blow job ever'. So yes, yelling I am the penis queen out the car window was justified.
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