I was told u were the one who could explain to me why i woke up in the running shower, still in my dress and heels
UPDATE: lighting the grill with Bacardi. Haven't slept. Forgot the hamburger buns. Almost out of our eighth handle.
We didn't talk. I watched you drop an egg on the floor. And watched you praise your haunted broom.
I can feel my ovaries exploding thinking about them.
Why is it that every study session with you turns into a hunt for drugs?
Your text makes more sense read in reverse.
It'd probably just be a lot of profanity and hyperventilation and deteriorating into tears anyways
so just a regular conversation then
I don't know what I was talking about but I just threw up in ikea. You can't get out of this place it's a fucking labyrinth.
The sad part is I didn't even want to get laid. I just wanted the emotional connection, but my vagina was screaming "TOUCH ME. TOUCH ME RIGHT NOW BECAUSE MY DADDY ISSUES ARE MUCH DEEPER THAN MY EMOTIONAL NEEDS!" Vodka has a way of getting me out of my emotions and gets me fucked every time.
I can't believe I'm giving you play by plays of this sexting convo. It's like a three way he doesn't know about.
Just realized I'm still chewing the same gum post blow job. This Stride shit really has everlasting flavor. They should totally have an ad campaign based on blow jobs.
I JUST WANTED TO GET SOME MOTHER FUCKING TACOS I AM SINGLE AS FUCK TACOS BRING PREOPLE TOGETHER OKAY
It's a little hazey but I think I tried to request Nelly last night. There was no dj. Not sure who I was talking to
He just stopped in the middle of undressing for sex to dip his slice of pizza in ranch. I think I’m in love.
Is it sad that the most attractive guy I've come across in a week that's not my professor is the man doing my pedicure?
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