Bel-fucking-mar, this place has more popped collars than a Hollister catalog
having sex with you is like teaching a dog to tango, it DOESN'T work
He called me "the Joe Montana of blowies." Not sure if that is an accomplishment or an insult, but going off of the amount of condensation on the windows of my car, I'm gonna just do a little touchdown dance and pass out.
you spent the like half the night trying to figure out the puzzles on the back of the captn crunch box
Then he claimed me as his prize for 3rd place in a wing eating contest. Too romantic.
you 2 were alone in the living room and the dog walked in and you started yelling what are all these people doing in here
Just to circumvent as much mood-killing as possible, you are allowed a small amount of laughter at my pubic hair. Too much and I revoke your vagina privileges until you can get your shit together.
You called a girl at 4:30am to tell her "your pussy is my top priority" while simultaneously Urban Spooning late night cafes.
Can I borrow you for, like, thirty minutes so you can lay on one boob and rub the other until I fall asleep?
For not really liking Christmas, I have an astounding amount of holiday-themed lingerie
Fuck you, I'm yelling at a mountain right now
I was going to learn how to knit but I got high instead.
Having sex with him is like eating mayo. Don't think about it, just do it. It's worth it.
I kid you not. He let me in into his house, showed me the putt putt in his backyard. Offered to play me.
God specifically crafted these hands to deal out orgasms.
Randomize
