I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
Responsibility does not care about your dick.
i told him i was allergic to semen. he pulled out an epipen.
In college, I had one standard. Penis. A lot has changed since then. Now I really only have one standard. Breathing.
Being home sucks. I haven't drank in like a week. Or smoked cigs. Or done drugs. Or had sex. My body is shutting down.
Omg. It's like you're one of those deprived kids living in a third world country. We need to save you.
So, were they human bite marks at least?
Your guess is as good as mine.
Virginity is like the pottery barn-you break it, you bought it.
Thanks....I've always wanted my vagina compared to an overpriced coffee table
He was so hammered. He called the cops on the landscapers he thought they were trespassing. 2 were arrested on warrants.
Because 9 pm Thursday you drink a loco cause you just wanna get drunk and have a good time with your friends. Then you wake up on Tuesday and you've had 17 locos and you're pregnant, lying on the side of the road, 3 states over. THAT'S why we don't have only locos parties.
So I've been spending my morning trying to figure out if there's a corealation between Wednesday margarita night and the boat that's now in my living room.
Your birthday is now over. Your day in the spotlight has dimmed and now you're as special as everyone else. The world goes back to revolving around me. Good night.
So basically I really like drugs AND banging cops and it's starting to get complicated
you put your dick on my shoulder this morning like it was a fucking parrot
Two questions: Did you enjoy your birthday present and how did i wake up with glitter all over my dick?
I swear it’s like he’s filling my soul via my vagina
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