I'm at the laundry mat. This guy is here showing me his ankle monitor. The weird ones always find me.
We've finally come to the understanding that as long as our conversation stays stricaly sexual, we get along.
tolerance is too high. going on a liquor strike. ghandi style.
Is your answer to that text seriously a right parenthesis
I looked up while we were having sex to see him covering my pillow pet's eyes with his free hand. I think I'm in love
the evidence from last night is not good...
what evidence?
my underwear is on inside out, and there are french fries in my hair...
Suddenly I feel like all I did this summer was have sex in our apartment
I'm like a savant for remembering names I learned while I was drunk. Seriously, I'm three for three. I'm on a roll.
Stop calling dibs on everything with a vagina you jackass.
That should be the title of my autobiography.
I can't thank you enough for the well-timed blowjob. What a huge improvement in my outlook on the day.
If waking up at 6 50 pm every day and getting invited to go have sex as you wake up is what alcoholism is like I can get use to this.
I finally broke my dry spell. I did it. D-do-da-Dora.
I don't trust his life but I trust his penis.
I accidentally brought up how there used to be a big tree in his yard, which I could only have known if I had been Google mapping his house.
Autocorrect changes "sex" to "sec". I have been so long without it my phone thinks I made a mistake.
Randomize
