Goodnight my chunky, little, marshmallow muncher
Memo to self- delete texts about butt sex from you before giving my mom my old phone to use.
the beat of "birthday sex" is shockingly similar to my dry heaving rhythm. it's making me nauseous all over again.
Keep in mind that he's 43, unemployed and living with his parents. There's really not much we could do to make his life worse.
i always knew that i'd have sex in your room, i just assumed it would be with you
now that we've slept with the entire soccer team i think its time to expand the horizon.
take 2 Ambien then drink a Red Bull and watch Alice in Wonderland. Trust me.
we found him. outside on the balcony, sitting on a bucket, with his pants off, swearing he was'nt taking a dump
My head feels like Jesus is projectile vomiting hammers on it
Hey douche face I just want you to know, if you ever got hit by a bus, I'd really miss you.
Only if you died obviously.
he pushed me in the lake knowing full well I had joints on me. that's drug-abuse!!
If my bootycall doesn't bring over a Baconnator, I swear to fucking God, I'm not letting him in. The hunger is that real. Forget his Persian dick.
I just had to explain to a 5 year old why I had fuzzy handcuffs hidden in a macaroni box under my bed.
I hate him but I love him for what he does which is me
I have filthy fantasies involving his tongue. My vagina almost exploded while he was licking that ice cream cone.
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