It's Friday. Sex?
i voted for prop eight dipshit. more weddings = more CAKE.
He kept yelling "osteoporosis" and threw milk at her because she broke her arm.
When he goes down on me, he stares me in the eyes like a shark mocking it's prey as it devours it. Plus, his beard smells like dirty gym socks. This has got to end.
You kept showing the cop the bruises on the bottoms of your feet and claiming you were a medical mystery.
I concluded last night that you have no tear ducts, heart, or sense of any feeling.
I misjudged the power of my pelvic thrusting capabilities. His nose is broken. Thoughts?
He sent me a snap chat of his naked torso with cookies over his nipples. Like.... that does not make me want you homeboy.
by the way whatever wisdom you imparted upon me last night was lost to whatever i smoked out of a beer can.
Apparently I filled my purse with chicken nuggets and told my mom I was a "sexual squirrel."
He stopped me in the middle of a blow job to call his grandma for her birthday.
At least he has family values.
I just do things that aren't classy the classy way.
I know right, I would blow him just for the satisfaction he would taste like vodka
There is a sex dungeon behind the wine cellar. This is why I hate showing foreclosures.
Clearly the Stanley Cup Finals good luck hand job IS necessary. You let the whole team down.
Randomize
