This guy told us that for a dollar and two cigarettes he'd let Megan stomp on his crotch. We were gonna refuse, but we figured someone had to keep him from passing his stupid genes along.
let's makeout let's makeout let's make out let's make out
So he ended up having sex with me, but it was so awkward. When it was over, he went to the bathroom, and he came back and asked, "are you on your period or something? there's blood on my dick..." and i said, "well it was supposed to start today, nice surprise...i am so embarrassed." and he said ,"it's better than you queefing." and as soon as he said that, i queef the hardest and loudest i ever had.
no memory loss, but i'm unhappy with my memories
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He was eating mac and cheese. Raw. Like as in he was eating the uncooked noodles then pouring the dry cheese in his mouth.
I feel more comfortable going down on her then actually kissing her.
I feel like the only phrases I can clearly speak while drunk consist of: i'm fucking drunk, chug, and shots
We bonded over blowjobs and stories of our childhoods. It was beautiful.
perfect. if all else fails remind him how anxious he is. talk real fast and induce a panic attack that only I can remedy with xanax.
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I just took my birth control with Redi-Whip. I'm that girl.
Ran into him again last night, stole his glowstick and walked away. The glowstick mountain in my room keeps growing.
Facebook is for cat videos and having better lives than people from high school, period.
I just want him to make us coffee. And whack off into the sunset
I'm going to need you to stop harassing my professor on Twitter when you're drunk.
Always great to be boarding a plane when you realize that what you thought was gas is actually very untrustworthy
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