she was talking to me but i could help but stare at the extremely long hairs on her boobs. then she says, "your looking at the hair on my boobs aren't you"
champagne bombs. Yes, i think that is where things may have gotten out of control.
I hate it when she philosophizes drunkenly on my kitchen counter. not even sober do i understand latin.
She greeted me with a new giants jersey and an opening day blowjob. this is true love.
Whatever, the fact of the matter is that I saved you from poorly planned outdoor sex by doing a rain dance and you should totally thank me.
He made me write my name on his wall in crayon so he'd be able to remember it in the morning
BTW rolling him off the couch and onto that tarp was pure genius. He definitely pissed himself last night.
At this point i guess a traditional, non-life-threatening pity fuck is too much to ask for
I just really hate taking care of things... If I can't fill it with liquor I'm not sure what to do with it.
You came down the stairs dressed as winnie the pooh and kicking cups off the table and out of people's hands
He was like low grade Riff Raff, but I hit it. Twice. His grill popped out the second time.
My day so far: morning after pill and pancakes. Living the dream.
She tried doing a backflip and ended up doing somersaults down the entire stair case.
3 words: harry potter burlesque. My life is so much more awesome than yours right now.
She is crazy bro, she'll kiss me after eating her ass but looses her fucking mind if I double dip a french fry in "our" ketchup!
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