God help me. Come pick me up. The guy told me this is not a hotel and i had to leave.
And then I'm going to yell into her vagina and see if it echoes
it felt like a thousand fairies were licking my balls.
my fraternity brothers just had an intervention for me. i either have a problem or am just on some next-level shit, im gonna go with door number 2
Welcome to texting with Mike. You're now leaving the sober section and headed to our insanely high bad decision making portion of mike. Enjoy the trip.
But you have work tomorrow. And a whore to pick up. And a dinner to eat. And a vagina to slaughter. Your day is full!
I appreciate the concept of vaginal slaughtering.
I'm sick of being the only unemployed member of the group. Doing things alone isn't partying. Its sad.
So I commented on one of his pictures "who do I have to give a full effort blow job to, to get the Ides of March movie poster behind you" he responded with a number that wasn't his. I still texted it. I love that movie.
I just heard my parents fuck. What. The. Fuck. My rooms right under theirs.. My dad barely even lasted a minute. Im almost ashamed..
Baked and hanging out with Al from Home Improvement's son. You can't make this shit up. Tuh-rippin balls
An image of us stuck like that like Pompeii comes to mind. A wonder for future anthropologists
He sent me off with a naked dance ending in a meat swing. I don't think I'll be seeing him again.
He sent me a website link to GIF on Snapchat. I don’t think he understands how Social Media works.
I was trying to decide if i was still high whenever i realized i was pressing the buttons on the microwave cause i liked the sound.
remind me again why we thought drinking hungarian moonshine was a good idea
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