I am like the Mr. Miyagi of queefs.
You're the 8th person from last night to text me this morning and ask if I'm ok.
FYI I'm about to upload a vid of you to facebook of you screaming "SNACK ATTACK" and throwing cheetos at everyone playing pong...
We made the pizza boy do Jell-o shots with us. He didn't even deliver to our house, we just called him over from the neighbors
You said you were going inside to sober up and then you poured yourself a wine glass of warm gin
I sexy timed too hard and there is an ass shaped piece of a ping pong table now missing bc of it. How am I allowed to leave the house without a helmet?
When he pulls out of you and farts and says ahh I wanted to do that for the past 30 mins ....you rethink the next drunken hook up
You can wear my underwear. It'll be like old times.
From now on I forbid you to refer to it as a "bed". From now on you must only use the phrase "sex wagon".
Join us. We're on the roof drinking breakfast
He's going to wonder why I have burn marks on my asshole
I've lost every trace of self esteem. Even sneaking a BJ in the coffee room has lost it's luster.
I feel awkward having to tell people “sorry you can’t finger me because I will get a UTI and I don’t have health insurance”
So how do u get your coat out of the coat room when someone is fucking on it?
Blacking out in the security line at the airport is not nearly as fun as blacking out in the lunch line at the dining hall.
Randomize
