I am like the Mr. Miyagi of queefs.
So drunk can't even tell it's my own house. WOaoOw.
the fact that you could barely do more than slur incoherent sentences didn't stop you from correcting her grammar
Leaving ole miss girls house to go to the stripper girls house. Why did it take losing my job to start getting laid all the damn time?
In hindsight buying the pill crusher with my vicodin prescription might have been too much.
koolaid chicken. i marinated it for 2 hours and roasted it on a rock in a fire. it was bright blue and raw. but that shit was tasty
This whole situation could've been avoided if you would've just let me open the beer
That just sounds like a recipe for sex in my backyard. Yes.
my mom found me passed out in the kitchen floor with the Brita pitcher.. Happy Mothers Day
i woke up and found a picture of his grandma in my purse.. im a kelpto
I couldn't do it. You can't break up after that many orgasms. It's physically impossible.
Oh! You were the one walking around cradling the bottle of Fireball all night!
i agree, on both the sex thing and the unrepentant bastard thing
you were so high you asked for half double stack and half crispy chicken sandwich "welded together" in the wendy's drive through
The ass gains better be worth it
Randomize
