I don't want to talk about it. He was like the Little Engine that couldn't get me off.
I woke up with a crunchy, pink Pepto streak through my hair, no recollection of the last 6 hours of my night and the feeling that all the hotel's staff knew me on a first name basis.
I'm scared at the amount of beastiality in this conversation.
Internet sex stories have completely ruined the word sopping for me.
I can trace it back to that drunken night where we peed on each other in the shower.
He called his prostate his "boner button".
his phone is always ringing though. It makes me feel like I'm dating a doctor who's always on call.
yeah, dating a doctor sounds much better than fucking your drug dealer.
So he might be the smartest man alive. He had the stripper pick him up taco bell on the way to the room for an extra 50 bucks.
I just wanna be like "dude your gf's on a porn site" but i just dont know if i have the heart.
Haha, I gave you the rest of the cash I had on me and you bought 3 shots for yourself and beer for everybody except me FUCKFACE.
He will be forever remembered as "birthday failure" ...Got him to pierce his tongue in my bathroom, but not sleep with me......
Well I'm going to hell. But I'm going after multiple orgasms.
I just want to braid flowers into his hair and steal all of his pills.
I need to wash the frat house off of me
we were waffle house and a lady told me her imaginary friend was sitting in the chair next to her. i don't feel so trashy now.
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