I'm gonna start referring to my vag as my ladygarden
just found a beer in my hamper. even my laundry is a dirty alcoholic.
I gambled and lost. Had to pull into a funeral home to clean up with a copy of my resume.
He offered to take me out to a nice dinner but I told him I would rather he just pay for my beer this weekend
Wheres my "thanks for using birth control effectively and not contributing to the downfall of society" card.
I've reached the slutty point of no return. And it feels like multiple orgasms and coke lines
You slid down the bannister into a split. Lines were crossed.
Can't even walk I haven't tried talking but I probably can't do that either
I fail to see the problem of enjoying a glass of wine while I poop...
the point I'm tryimg to make is that you didn't need to take the whole box in with you
He's writing a strongly worded email to Trojan right now
I TOLD YOU THE BARESKIN CONDOMS WEREN'T AS RELIABLE.
pretty sure I woke up to him jacking himself off IN MY BED
I decided to have a date tonight. Back on horse I go. Or aiming to be on a horse cock one day. You know. However that metaphor goes.
No no this isn't that fun. I'm alone drinking wine and me and the dogs ran out of things to talk about around 9 am.
So how was it?
The cemetery or the sex?
He couldn’t find my clit with a map. Literally. I drew him a map.
Randomize
