I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
He was just laying on the stairs and then screamed, "Is that a clubhouse?" I haven't seen him since
please dont make me drink to the titanic soundtrack
You've had your dick in my mouth. I don't think there are all that many barriers in our friendship at this point.
I got the number from the girl at uhaul even after she saw me throw up all over the parking lot with a 6 pack in my hands.
No idea how he made them, but vodka water balloons were a horrible idea.
I wrote my name on his balls in sharpie. In the homosexual world that's like a diamond ring. Shits permanent.
My alarm went off and I went straight for your dick. That's dedication.
The walk home lasted longer than the sex. He lives in the flat above the bar.
If you're going to do that you're going to need a pleather suit.
Plus my fingers were hella swollen from eating all these cured meats so it was like I was given it to her with Hulk Hands on
Kelly and I just had sex, and you didn't call or text to interrupt, are you alive? We are both concerned.
My professor just told my lab he could drive us around town in his 1991 Lincoln towncar limo for our bar crawl. This just keeps getting better!
You've got the chocolate, drugs and my pants. You hold all the cards...
Just deepthroated a hot dog. Thinking of you
Randomize
