I wouldn't call it sex. It's like when you put a plug in a socket half way. It's not all the way in but it still turns on the light.
well, if it gives you any insight into how crazy it was, i am currently wikipediaing "anullment"
So basically our separate showers turned into one shower, to save water, which turned into a bath, which turned into sex on the bed, which turned into drinking beer in the bed, and thats what the stain is from... bud light. sorry.
he said it was like fucking a big sack of slut potatoes
so i literally woke up after a night of doing lines to a bag of pretzels falling off my bed. a reminder that maybe this is a contributing factor to my freshman 15.
He slow fucked me. Doggy style. On a porch. You never slow fuck doggy style. Its a law. A LAW.
I'm the fucking queen of sexting. I just made a blowjob sound so poetic I'm wishing I were a guy just so I could blow me. Learn from me.
Last time he went to Europe, every time he started drinking he would wake up in a different country with no memory. There is no way he can be tour leader.
I am his drunk Jesus. I will love him from afar because he's my little lamb
In unrelated news guys should not ask what I'm doing/wearing if they can't handle an honest answer. I'm not pretending I'm not sitting on the couch in yoga pants watching Community so you can beat off.
If a treadmill opens up I'll run next to him and then fall off so he has to give me mouth to mouth
Why is there bacon in the couch?
There is a huge naked guy in the kitchen with the boner of a lifetime and what I believe is an assault rifle casually resting on his shoulder.
sober me needs to have more faith in drunk me.
when I finally sobered up enough to get out of bed this morning I went to talk to mom and forgot that I had TITS written in big letters on both my hands. I love drinking games.
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