Our relationship is like that beach boys song "help me Rhonda" and I'm fucking Rhonda. And Rhondas's the whore in case you've never heard it.
A small cock is a small cock, don't blame the size of my hands
Waking and baking has revolutionized how i brush my teeth. Seriously up to like 25 min everry morn. Highly recommend
Can you fuck me on the kitchen counter at some point? I'll lysol it after
Anne I just took two ambiens. I think my body is melting into my blow up bed. Like a stick of butter just slowly melting. And I'm alright. Don't be afraid. I'll be alright.
I should also mention that having been a sheltered child, I am conditioned to have serious kinks and find upper bodies of either sex attractive. And legs.
I vaguely remember having a cowboy explain his belt buckle to me in the bathroom hallway
My entire summer has consisted of being too drunk for this shit, too sober for this shit, or too hungover for this shit.
At first I was horrified but then he explained that he shave a "soul patch" on his balls... And I was still horrified, but I went with it.
I think I should just be a madame. Fuck it.
I'm just gonna post fliers on telephone poles like, "who wantsta be a hooooooe?!"
Finding an empty bathroom to shit on campus is like the quest for the fucking Holy Grail. Except with more stench and humiliation.
Forever getting my life back together in gas station bathrooms.
I'm in the kitchen making quiche for my fuck buddy and his wife. I'm probably not the chick to get dating advice from.
You fell out of his top bunk onto his set of golf clubs. After seeing blood on your leg, you proceeded to sing "the first cut is the deepest" while sprawled on the golf clubs
just woke up with nickles taped to my body. theres like a dollar worth.
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