I knew my chances of getting laid had increased after she walked into my room and yelled "DICK TIME"
all ten of us were sitting in his room with the lights off and staring at his colorful moving screensaver for two hours. That high.
It was like fucking a house. Down the chimney. That deep and empty.
he let me duct tape his mouth because i said it was my fetish, i really just wanted him to shut up
nothing like walking down the street with a garbage bag of puke trying to find a dumpster
He needs to stop telling me how much he respects me. What does that even mean
Just so you know, a 6'7" tall gay man, with a martini in one hand and a fairy wand in the other, is not a force to be reckoned with...don't ask.
Plus, I've always wanted to drive in rush hour with a huge cock drawn on my hood
I puked and rallied in front of a cop...and then waved at him....
Powdered alcohol is a real thing now. Move over crystal light... Water bottles rejoice!!
You were talking to yourself and eating cold cuts in the kitchen when I found you
We could have a classy candlelight sonic dinner with fireball cocktails if you leave now. Twat tickler centerpieces.
returning from a 6am booty call in 2 feet of snow on a Tuesday is a bold new kind of low for me
Something about finishing sexting a guy and him going "well. I have to get ready for Passover now" really makes me rethink my life choices
Swimming turned traumatic when grampas shorts slipped off..
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