you rubbed the head of my dick and said "I shall call you Squishy and you shall be mine and you shall be my Squishy."
By connection do you mean me drunkenly grinding my ass on his lap for an extended period of time? If so, then yes, we had a "connection"
you know, even black out drunk I can always remember the exact point where I should have stopped drinking.
All I remember was after sex she kept trying to take pictures of my dick "for memories"
I don't remember anything past "we have 15 minutes to drink this keg."
If I ever write a book, i'm calling it "why do i work with fucktards?"
It'll be a good sequel to my other book, "why do i sleep with fucktards?"
I was at a bus stop, eating a load of bread. Fairly sure I'm the poster child for poor students.
My Internet history has 23 searches for 24 hour cake. Self respect plummeting.
I heard you coughing. Are you choking or smoking? And are you okay?
I just swallowed confetti and motor-boated some guys beard...#happy2015
His boxer smelled like clean laundry while I was giving him head. It was delightful, like sucking a dick in a spring meadow.
He doesn't have much of a personality but he makes up for it with his sexual prowess
keeper.
It's 7am. I'm sitting on the curb in last nights clothes with a nose bleed and no idea how to get home. Low moment I feel.
I want to strut with the confidence of a pigeon.
Going back to our hometown to help Gramma move. Thinking we should see if we can fuck on the desk of the homophobic coach who first introduced us while in town.
Randomize
