My pussy is not your playground.
this morning he rolled over looked at me and said "oooo, you look like i need a drink" and then put on his clothes and left without another word
On my way home right now. I miss you. let's cuddle. whiskey.
You're welcome to join, but just to warn you, tequila makes my clothes disappear. And I'm telling you that as an adult to an adult, not as your supervising teacher who decides whether or not you graduate.
I wore sweatpants. When I show up to a booty call in sweatpants there's your warning
I can't tell if I'm hungover or if my cat just knocked the lamp on my face
Taking shots of gin by myself out of TMNT glasses and chasing with bites of chocolate cake. AMERICA.
we shared soup. that is literally the extent of my romantic life right now
I found a half-finished mass text from my California weekend that said "things I want to rape: you, things, stuff, and le"
He was smart enough to bring a condom to our study date so I mean I'm sure he'll do fine on the test
I may or may not be setting up an encounter with a foot fetishist just because I'm curious.
A dick pic is not a proper way to say I'm sorry
Do you know anyone else that comes home with unexplainable injuries as many nights a week as we do?
Sooo...you're driving 6 hours for free booze?
Don't judge me.
I'm a freaking penguin. one mate for life, and really awkward at parties
Randomize
