It was just pointed out to me in a meeting that there is a lipstick stain on my crotch.
my penis says it needs to be in something. my phonebook says its you
I fucked her on my hockey bag. it doesnt get any more Canadian than that.
Y'know, without the cops, it would've just been us daydrinking,
the paramedic just looked at me like "you again?"
i just figured out how to balance my wine bottle on my boobs so that i don't have to tip it with my hands...breathing has new meaning
I lull them into a false sense of security with my gayness. Then when they're vulnerable, I strike, like a snake. A big non-gay snake, with huge balls.
Whatever you didn't send me pics of you topless making bacon
I'm just gonna stay I'm bed where it is warm and cozy and nobody knows me as the girl that puked on a stripper
i was talking to them for like 5 mins and they were like HEY LETS GET A PICTURE and tequila said it was good idea
he fucked me with his goalie mask on. it was like sleeping with Darth Vader
i love how you just walk into that dealer's house every time without knocking, yet you don't even know his name
He sent me a slow motion video of him jerking off...it was so long (the video not his dick) even I felt awkward watching it alone
We trekked into the state forest, laid the comforter down and he proceeded to tell me that we could stay here and stargaze, turned me around and fucked me like the lion king.
i think we sleep fucked last night...
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