My life is like the prequel to "40 Year Old Virgin"
I don't have the money to get a cast so we made one from stuff at the craft store.
he told me he expects me to keep the fangs on when i go down on him. presumptuous, yes, but man after my own heart.
He's got a southern drawl and a lisp. I'm getting mindfucked right now.
I have too much pride to pick his chest hair out of my mouth again
I'm hungover as fuck. My vagina hurts. I locked my keys in my car. It's about 93* outside. We're having sex in the pool when I get home
I'm going to have to start playing roller derby again so I can blame my sex-related bruises on that.
He pissed on a police station. Then expected to not be arrested. Sounds accurate.
I was walking around the party holding a dog on my shoulder like it was a parrot
I feel like I'm eight miles away and my brain is just now getting here. You got a lot of fucking catching up to do.
Great sex, the promise of us mixing our excellent genetics in the future, and access to drugs are mainly what's holding this relationship together at the moment
I woke up with a meat pie in my hand and my mouth tasting like an ashtray. I'm a catch, really!
I'm pretty sure that cute cop drove me home. Especially since I found his card in my purse.
we thought it would be safer to lock you in the car alone downtown than take you back home to pass out
at the time fanning him with a dish tray seemed like a good idea but when we found it buried in the dirt the next morning i questioned our judgement. needless to say he still threw up even with the extra breeze.
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