So the D.A.R.E. essay I helped my tutor kid write won an award. Oh the irony.
And when I look at him, I just want him to say "I love you" in between deep thrusts and hard grunts.
Is it weird if I ask my drug dealer to prom? Be honest.
He said finals are more important than getting stoned on 4/20. I'm proud in a disappointing kinda way
i have my own cum on my nose right now. don't talk to me about "embarrassed".
I came over to his house for a party and realized I was quoted on the fridge... "How'd I get rug burn on my face?" And yes, my name was right next to it!
The last thing I remember is funneling tequila out of a pink noodle.
Oh, and thanks to you. I'm now stuck in the living room, held hostage, listening to my roommate's "How I discovered I was bi" story. FUCK YOU.
I should have taken pre-gaming this lunch date more seriously.
That dick who always called me a slut in high school showed up at the clinic with boner problems. Then I was assigned as his nurse. Who's laughing now. I AM.
What would you say is a healthy ratio of sex vs. being called a fucking asshole in a relationship?
I ran into a wall that clearly had things popping out. My eyebrow was bruised, both arms, the bottom of my foot. Lost half of my finger nail, my fake eyelash was stuck in my hair and I have about 47 blurry pictures of a half naked zombie DJ.
It was horribly awesome. Its like looking at the sun, you know its bad for you but I just couldn't stop looking.
This is why I should’ve just stuck with blow jobs. I’m good at blow jobs. Blow jobs never fail me.
Sober sex is weird like I didn't expect this when I got clean
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