I'm twenty-five. I'm too old to be watching my friend throw up in Chipolte Parking lot.
His shirt was in the kitchen sink this morning, I'm pretty sure my roommates know.
all i remember is stealing his cheesepuffs and shaving my vagina in the hotel lobby
he rubbed his balls on my face to wake me up.. this friends with benefits thing is getting out of hand.
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reaaaally cool. my cat ate my birth control.
dude. you ripped the mardi gras beads off the girls neck and yelled she didnt deserve them..
he was grinding on you and dedicated the song "I'm in Love With a Stripper" to you then started taking his own clothes off
Halfway through she said I was exactly like she imagined. So many things have been stroked this night.
Apparently when it was last call I jumped up on the bar and told everyone to get the fuck out, which was immediately followed by a round of applause from the bouncers/bartenders and my tab getting paid as well.
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The only reason I know his name is because we wrote marriage vows in orange crayon on the back of a Walmart receipt.
I've had sex with three people who have this birthday.
No one with a hairstyle like that is allowed to insult anyone for anything
I was amazing, unlike anything he's ever experienced. I somehow made him feel young and old.and he never felt old before. He feels I will literally kill him. With my magic, lethal vagina.
Omg the sex was so good my ears popped. Thank god too. Cause then I didn't have to hear him going on and on about his dumbass feelings. It's called a booty call bitch.
He let me share his family pack of hot pockets with him. Chivalry isn't dead after all.
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