He told me he was a psychology major, and I responded by asking him where he hid his vagina.
dude, she was giving me a lapdance and her thong had a skid mark. no I did not hit it.
i don't understand how she was down there for so long, she's like a mermaid, a blowjob giving mermaid.
It's 4PM and I'm finally awake.. I'm covered in dog fur and shame. I'd say it counts as a good night.
I just told you I can't. My fingers are melting. I have discovered the high.
We are gonna be 90 years old in wheelchairs at the nursing home sitting at computers poking each other and waiting for the other to die so we will have the last facebook poke.
I feel like everytime I call him he's either fucking or getting into trouble. It's really disturbing that he presses the answer button and then proceeds to fuck her harder.
FUCK BUDDYS DON'T HOLD HANDS. NO EXCEPTIONS.
Not saying puking on the side of a cab was how I imagined freshman year of med school but...
Guys, as my favorite vagina consultants I have to share something.
My professional advice is not to put lemons in your lady pocket.
If you fuck up my birthday by dying I will kick your fucking corpse.
What, wait. You are not supposed to drink wine out of the bottle?
DIBS on your mom for my beer pong partner.
I seriously thought Satan had his hand up my asshole and was pulling out my soul. Never. Again.
Why is there a condom in my ukulele?
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