How many nights a week you wake up with sticky boxers cause you were dreaming of Clay Aiken? Your wife mad?
last night was a success...if success means i don't remember the guy's name and my panties are somewhere in the parking lot behind the bar
My dad just sent me a text telling me to "say hi to all the luscious bitches" at the gay bar. Guess this explains my childhood
believe me... letting the man that delivered you from your mother's vagina do shots off your stomach is really fucking awkward.
He's a navy seal. He can stick it anywhere he wants.
I just woke up and my mouth tastes like I licked the bathroom floor in the last ghetto bar we were in. I'm going to get my mouth checked for chlamydia. Do I see a dentist for that?
As he walked by me and gave me his dreamy smile full of dimples all i could think was 'I gave you chlamydia'.
plus there's no nice way to tell a guy you physically hate the shape of their cock.
No, it wasn't really a sexy 'I'm going to go masturbate.' It was an 'I'm going to go masturbate' that implied I was going to drink a tall boy of Mikes and cry while I looked at lesbian porn.
She went outside in nothing but her panties and came back inside 15 minutes later wearing a different pair of panties.
He's got the good dick trifecta - flip phone, works outside, bed with no headboard.
As much as I want you to bang someone other than me, he is an asshole.
Now after not puking, next step is not to do the accent when immigration says "hello."
sam was dropping a deuce next to me. wrote me a note that said "glad we shared this experience." passed it under the wrong stall. the other guy picked it up. that's all I know so far.
Somehow my life has turned in to drug deals at the bar, and illegally camping on a mountain because I have no where else to live.
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