There comes a time in every man's life where he has to shit in a catbox to prove a point.
You fell asleep mid BJ last night. I put your pants back on you. My ego is pretty bruised this morning.
So my game is weak??
If your game is "Lets have sex, and maybe pizza" then yes.
I feel so much closer to you now that I heard your poop splash into the toilet.
I spent an hour trying to convert bar outfits to church outfits. Its hard.
I'm a big fan of your penis but I will not sit through an animated movie dedicated to it.
Blackout strip poker. Now. Bring flashlights because we found that candles are dangerous with nudity.
To be so small, the mini-horses are exceptionally aggressive. And fast. Very, very fast.
Abort! Abort! He almost bit off a finger!
I now have a GPA requirement for guys I hookup with more than once.
can I share that I'd like to fuck him in my new car as a sort of car warming present to myself?
I mean I love some drunk compliments, but he just wasn't up to my low standards.
Ok thats great. so just to recap: you fucked a billionare in his penthouse last night, and I had a glass of wine on the toilet.
He fucked me so well and hard that the couch slid into the Christmas tree. I had to pull branches out of my hair.
I think I puked in the middle of sex last night if that's any indication as to how drunk I was.
You took your shirt off at the bar, handed it to a girl, and made her wash your dirty shirt on your washboard abs
tuesdays get the best of me...
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