Oh. Im drinking alone in a banana costume. Every time youre feeling down, i want you to think of me right now and know that your life is better than mine.
I'm relatively certain my chiropractor just judged me for admitting that my back is misaligned from the sex we had last night...
new rule: cockblock me if I have had over a fifth of jack. no matter what.
Literally been drinking for 10 hours. Hammered. Roasted chestnuts fell out of my shirt earlier.
it was like i was on a global safari of uncircumcised men
I was still in a towel. We hadn't even started drinking yet and the champagne bottle dropped and exploded literally up into my vagina.
We were thinking he might be gay. Like how the fuck do you not even make out with a girl that made you a grilled cheese
My vagina loves me do-dah do-dah my vagina loves me do-dah do-dah
I picture you throwing your vagina around in the same fashion that they pass out candy at a parade.
I masterbated to the rocky theme song. I'm pretty sure that just beat any sex experience I've ever had.
I make him buy me all the extremely expensive high end Mac cosmetics I desire. Wear it then let him cum on my face. I am fucking glamorous.
he took my bra off with his teeth, THEN decided he just wanted to make out and cuddle. i don't know what the female version of blue balls is, but i've been living with it since 1 a.m.
You have to commit to sexting. You can't just quit right after I send you pictures of my asshole.
Seriously, come on.
I feel like there's a picture of my ass on the internet right now.
I hate you.
I text the word "masturbation" so much, all it only takes my iPhone to auto-spell it is for me to type "mas".
We were talking about kinky shit, and I suggested a hand job in church.
How'd that go over?
Praise the lord and pass the lotion.
You can help me! We'll make an occasion of it. Have some rum, make some smores, condemn the email system to the pits of hell...
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