I don't want to talk about it. He was like the Little Engine that couldn't get me off.
I was just "that girl you seen blowing some dude outside when you drove by"
Not sure if this is better or worse than the discovery that bourbon and hot chocolate is a viable combo
I will call him whatever I please, including flaccid dick on forehead guy but not limited to watermelon cunt head.
Believe it or not, that's part of the whole 'best friend' thing. It's not just yelling at me for making you leave the club early or taking the couch bc I'm doing sex while you're doing bjs.
Now I get the fucking shakes every time I hear I'm Sexy And I Know It. Thanks, Captain Morgan.
The usual, im laying out. Ipod on shuffle, Large spray bottle to cool myself of and a smaller one filled with chilled vodka. I can spray the vodka right in my mouth without even opening my eyes. THIS IS LIVING....
At this point, I'd date an ax murderer. So long as he doesn't cry all the time, have ED, or leave me with his unspayed cat. My list of requirements is becoming increasingly specific.
I've only hooked up with engineers this year and it may be the best future financial decision I've ever made
But how MUCH of an emergency? Like, should I go to the ER now, or can it wait until after the bar crawl?
I don't know what you're doing this morning, but obtaining Plan B is my number-one priority.
If body pillows had a built in vibrator attached I would literally never need a boyfriend again
He deserves a nobel prize for his dick-giving abilities. 10/10, would ride again.
If I don't answer right away it's because I took an Adderall and the fridge needs cleaned.
I admire the fact that you replicated my apartment on the roof but I would appreciate it more if you would move all my stuff off the roof and back into my apartment.
Randomize
