but why does your life always sound like the plot of a porn?
After the VIP Latina experience at the strip club last night, I am rooting for Mexico in this years World Cup.
She gave him a lap dance on the glass table. You can guess how that ended
Currently bleeding through my leggings. Not good. Not good at all.
Hospital.
I am invincible.
Once he blows his load, he's more of an immediate flight risk than that jetBlue pilot. He's out the door before his cum is out of my vajayjay.
The best part of that night wasn't even the sex, it was listening to her explain to her boyfriend why she was naked in her room while I hid in her closet.
he came in the room wearing gloves & rapping while eating a corndog
knight in shining armor
spring break - time to see if my two week detoxing gave my liver a chance to recover.
This is the I'm sorry text for running around yelling don't shit on my rainbow, end up in the fetal position crying at 4 am in my car because someone shit on my rainbow
I just found a half a joint in my bed. . .don't know if this qualifies as a proud moment or a cry for help
I'm going to CVS to meet the Craigslist guy who is going to buy my underwear. If I don't text you within the next hour, plz assume that I have been abducted by a stranger with an underwear fetish.
There's nothing quite like having a little 8 year old boy hand me a Bible on campus while I'm on my way to the health center because of my recent slutty tendencies.
Me sprinting out of your house without my bra or shoes is our entire relationship defined in a single moment.
It's hard picking what to wear when you know the plan is sex. Like can't I just wear my robe let's just simplify this.
If you binge watch Bill Nye Saves the World without me you can consider yourself single
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