i have the juiciest gold medal in my pants
I have a deodorant stick dedicated to my balls.
I found out he doesn't have a facebook, twitter, or myspace. So, I'm going to actually go to his house to spy on him.
He passed out drunk on top of me. Fully erect. Still inside me. Woke up like 1 minute later, and continued.
You're just mad at the fact that I want to be a car alarm.
This is the time you want your cat to have telepathy with you. To know if the guy downstairs left.
Should we discuss the rug burns on my back or just save that for a separate conversation
I was really disturbed by what initially appeared to be a dismembered head sitting beside you. Then I realized you were laying on her body.
All I want is for every tall lanky young guy who is reading in a Starbucks to go balls deep in me. That's all.
You should have heard my farts after he left. I swear one of them was a demonic voice saying, "It's coming for you, Nicole. It's coming,".
Also I'm at the pub and there are old lady pirates gyrating on a pole. I wish you were here.
Also, your girlfriend apologized to me about yesterday. That was nice of the cunt.
I am going to paint butt plugs like little Christmas trees and give them as gifts.
You could paint cock rings as wreaths.
She's currently singing "I'm gonna keep on lovin you" to her pillow. How do you think tonight went?
So many questions...the two most important are, where the fuck is my booze and how did you even get the couch through the door?
Randomize
