So there is a guy driving a robot around the college of engineering selling energy drinks
Found a pint glass in my snow pants.
In the memo line of the check she wrote sexual healing.
I'm practically paying him in tacos to have sex with me.
So that'd what fifty dollars of chicken at 7/11 looks like. Made it to work on time. Puked twice. BOOM.
The last thing I remember was doing a line in the shape of Texas
Whoever owns the butter that i always steal out of the office fridge definitely put THC butter in there this time. Shit just got real.
He's freaking out just because my cat licked his balls while he was fucking me
If my bootycall doesn't bring over a Baconnator, I swear to fucking God, I'm not letting him in. The hunger is that real. Forget his Persian dick.
The date went significantly better after the fifth shot of fireball.
What did the sign say that bob stapled to his ass?
COVER ME IN BACON THATS MY FETISH
ACTUALLY ITS NOT, I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA WHAT AWAKENS THE MONSTER BELOW THE BELT
We laughed, we cried, we fucked, we shirked our familial and work related responsibilities. They could make a movie about the last 40 hours of our lives.
Just packed vodka and spare underwear into my purse- totally set for watching the hockey with him tonight
He ate me out in a golf cart while I watched the sunset. You are so right, golf skirts do provide amazing access.
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