If I ever start a band I'm gonna name it "Nancy Reagan's Vagina"
sexting on a treadmill. speed 9.0 beat that slut!
While I was dancing with him in my foil dress he said, "You're like a Chipotle burrito. Don't worry, that's the best complement you could get from me."
It wasn't really sex. It was just rolling around, trying to make sure his dick didn't end up in my ass.
Climbing out Mr. Friday night's bathroom window. He thinks I'm puking. Be on state st. with the getaway car and if you could bring me a shirt and some advil that'd be dandy.
So proud. See you in five. I've got coffee.
I wish your snatch was here
If my snatch could sprout wings I'd fly to you
I live vicariously through you. No one mistakes me for a hooker anymore. I look like a stay at home mom of three. On bad days of four.
It's a little weird that I'm blowing my wingman.
Well, it's a fine line between people-watching and boob-staring. It's a gray area. But we're in Paris. Let's leave it at that.
She's Jesus crazy. And one if not more other forms of crazy. She's 2.5+ crazy.
I gave her two orgasms and then we laid there and she ate jelly beans out of my belly button...that girls a keeper
I was so high I could TASTE the fillings in my teeth
I'm just going to take a nap and hope I wake up more attractive.
He just took off his shirt. I'll text you later.
He's a security blanket. A security blanket who FUCKS.
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