I wasn't fucked. I was just drunk, because i was still able to walk into the woods and masterbate.
you kind of just crawled on top of him. that was the point at which i became concerned with how drunk you were.
There's a mouse. In the house. By the cans. With some pans. Release the cat. To eat his hat. Sorry about the mess. Of my breakfest.
No but seriously, there's a fucking mouse in the house by the beer cans
let's just say if he has a penis and he hypothetically needs to put it somewhere... i would take care of that for him.
In her drunkenness, she packed a bag with tequila, two shot glasses, salt, a knife, and two pears. She was prepared but too high to distinguish pears from limes.
We hooked up. It felt slightly wrong considering he is my foreign exchange student but there's a reason America imports. Foreigners got the goods.
More cowboy butts than you can shake a stick at, oh joy.
You kept mumbling that you could become one with the carpet as you proceeded to give yourself the worst carpet burn I have ever seen
If I get to the point of singing Man of Constant Sorrow then please god let me do it, record it, then cut me off.
True enough. Do you ever think that these girls grandparents ghosts are watching you masterbate to their granddaughters and look at you in Shame?
i can't invite random hot hobos into my aunt's house.
We took her out for fresh air and next thing we knew, she was stumbling around the backyard picking dead leaves up off the ground and putting them in her shirt to "save them".
Why the fuck am I at this dorm meeting? I don't pay $50,000 a year to stay sober.
If I slept with her my dick would come out glittery
coward.
I’m going down on him like an Oompah Loompah on roller skates.
That makes no sense, but good luck
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