I'm like a rollypolly, I only open my legs up when I feel safe.
dude just tell them you don't wear clothes. they'll understand
i deep throated a ruler to see what my limit was...
he laminated a picture of his dick.
Spent the entire ride home from downtown trying to convince designated dawgs to drop us off at waffle house instead of our apartment. i told them it was my house...they didn't buy it.
I don't go on dates. I watch tv and play with dicks. dinner is a situation.
There is a mirror in the headboard of the bed that I'm sleeping in so I can immediately question life choices when I wake up.
Emergency! LinkedIn connected me to a hotornot hookup from sophomore year... slutty phase sphere has officially invaded grown up professional sphere. My illusions of interweb sexual anonymity have been exploded.
he ate me out like he was chugging a beer.
Dear, was it your thong we found wrapped around my hairbrush next to Rachel's bed? Please explain.
I'm responsible for my client's overall well-being. Which is terrifying coming from someone that can't stop masturbating and eats leftover pizza just about everyday.
my question is who was more confortable? You sleeping on the floor or me tweeting from a bush?
I'm standing at the bottom of the driveway w a sign that says plow me
If I die tonight somebody's going to have to let all my tinder matches know.
This time tomorrow I will be drunk and in a voodoo shop
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