Everything went well, until I walked into his bedroom and there was a Ronald Reagan poster watching over his bed - creepy
you turned your livingroom into a bong?
It was like my butthole was peeing. Felt comforting yet not fulfilling.
Hey so summary of last night. I threw up in a rain boot then tipped it over on my bed, did my laundry and passed the fuck out. I feel like I didn't see you.
Sometimes one must go to great lengths and make great sacrifices to get drunk. I willingly accept the challenge.
No he didn't understand the sequence...then I started texting him these texts with vagina strategically spelt correctly in jumbles of letters.
A woman on my train just walked down the carriage in a wedding dress, crying and clutching a can of Carlsberg. Oh...
Let me be the 15% helpful, 85% useless as shit angel on your shoulder.
She told me that for every Ravens touchdown, I'd get to come once.
Marry her. Marry her now. I'll help you steal the ring.
I got his number because he was "impressed with how much I could handle"...I was chasing shots with Olive Garden breadsticks...
Only you would consider your best friend fucking your boyfriend to be a sign of everlasting friendship
What are we just gonna be those girls that get fucked in your parents basement and not get taken to dinner? I don't wanna be those girls.
I woke up in a limo in long Island, Ny this morning. Talk about a black out
On the plus side, he ate me out and gave me an orgasm. But he also talked about robots during sex and mispronounced it like the dad in the goldbergs and called them “robits”
I have had flashes of 69ing, a strawberry flavored condom and begging him to sleep naked.
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