Your mouth is God's brothel.
it's like i warped into dreamland and the only thing that makes sense is my solo cup
i'm at the point now where i want him to say anything. even an apology for his boomerang-shaped penis would be nicer than no comment.
He said I taste like butterscotch, licked me, then I'm pretty sure he wet his pants. So no, I do not want to invite him over.
The last memory I have is vomiting into a box and her rubbing my back saying "you are such a trooper..."
Day 5 without masturbation. Fat chicks are back on the table
Is there a card that says "Sorry I got drunk at your Christmas party and tried to steal your monogrammed hand towels so that I could give you something nice for Christmas"?
All I want to do is fuck in the bell tower before it leave this school. Is that too much to ask?
somedays, I wish the drugs you give me would convince me they were a bad idea preingestion.
where's the fun in that?
there is nothing more depressing than your birth control alarm going off while you're masturbating, and realizing you've been taking pointless precautions for over a month now.
i've written a new chapter in the saga of unexpected dongs
He smells like cinnamon, and what I imagine to be orgasms
You are the best. Or certainly adequate for tempering my unholy desires.
That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me.
I did this clutch move yesterday at the bar where I grabbed a plastic cup for water and discreetly threw up in it while walking around and then tossed it. It was my best boot and rally ever
the cuervo was good, but I started with jello shots. and when i threw up a whole jello shot came out.
Randomize
