I swear to god I'm with a high end prostitute right now and shes the most interesting person I've ever met. She just took me in to share an evening.
And as an added bonus she seems to have gotten a blood stain out of my favorite t-shirt
So...we accidentally left a bag of puke in your sister's room. Heads up.
All four of us managed to throw up in the same bathroom at different times during the night. I think we'll get along great living together.
So two questions...why am I covered in muffins and are there pictures of this.
she's crying and begging for her chapstick and insisting on walking home...her every thursday ritual
after i talked him through a bulleted list of why we couldn't have sex he just said "but it would be fun...."
There is only one good excuse for how sore I am right now. And that is incredibly acrobatic sex. Unfortunately for me that is not my excuse.
I am self-sufficient. I puked in a wine glass and emptied it in the trash. Points for style and neatness
Relationships are fuckin' work. And you can't just up and leave with no questions when you really just need to get home because you're about to shit your pants.
You're so wise.
He's so urbane and sleek; so aesthetically chiseled, having endless features to offer me whenever I desire.
Are you fucking a guy or a condo building?
you can't get cum all over my hair and then tell me you just want to be friends
I AM GONNA CUM EVERYWHERE TONIGHT BRO.
Well the hawks lost... so, of course, the only logical course of action was a bonfire in the middle of the street.
He was a foot taller than me and my hands were bigger than his, it's called Pity head
The weekend was a blur. There was vodka and penises and orgasms. I played a game of Cock Roulette and won big
Randomize
