Santa Clause just drove by me on a fire truck. Epic night begins.
we do all of our sexting over chat on words with friends, so my boyfriend doesn't know about it when he looks at my texts.
Well if I fail my finals for being drunk on Cinco De Mayo there is always next year to graduate.
You said that last year...
Her divorce is going to cut into the amount of time we spend fucking.
I'm in awe of how selfish that is.
While running home from the bar in high heels I multi- tasked and sexted with Brent. Jesus.
He looks like he's going to feed me a taco and then stab me. It's probably a good idea he's a lawyer
The fact that you're allowing Santa to dry hump your ass is sort of a dealbreaker
No you don't understand. This tree is really alive. Like in Pocahontas.
I'm doing an Uber ride of shame in a red, white and blue bikini top and America shorts. Good for me.
I just remembered you petting my nose last night to help the cocaine 'sink in'. I don't think that's how it works
Being hungover in this office is the actual worst. Like they look at me and know I was wasted at 1 am, karaokeing Billy Idol at a gay bar.
I take it you're alive?
Mostly. Can't quite control my arms.
I licked your asshole in confidence.
Quick question. If you break the bathroom sink off the wall from fucking on it, can you claim it on your homeowner's insurance as a 'natural disaster'?
Anything special planned for Valentines Day?
Does testing the strength of my coworker’s marriage count?
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