I bet a guy could be masturbating under the table now and people would just think he was clapping along.
I wonder what it would be like to masturbate in space
I HAVE FLAVORED BLOW. THIS SHOULD NOT EXISIT.
No, we talked about it. They're cool with me living here as long as I sleep with them both.
You're a rent hooker.
He gave me an elaborately handwritten invite (on a bar coaster) back to his place and whispered in my ear 'i have ping pong'. And he said byob. fuck THAT.
they paper machayed me.
i told you ... never pass out drinking with preschool teachers.
I passed out drunk and Jane had created a picnic on my chest. I had chips and a hamburger laid out on my boobs. The only reason I woke up is she was trying to feed me too.
It was like getting a handjob from a frost giant
ugh... fuck pirate breakfast. my head is like thirsty.
I almost drank vegetable oil. Where were you? I needed you.
Maybe it's because I walked straight up to that shelf of vodka with a look of determination that said "I mean business".
I usually have to have a cart! If that doesn't say "I mean business" then I don't know what does
He was so energetic. It was like screwing a bunny.
I don't think I bit anyone but I woke up to scrapes knees, bruises and new friends.
What even was the context for that. All I have written down is "I would vote for President SnakeJaw."
Oh and he asked if I would occasionally still blow him if we had children. It was so romantic.
Randomize
