she told me her fantasy was her as a 55 year old cook at a truck stop who smokes a pack a day, and I was the 21 year old illegal immigarnt prep cook.
I wish a night of watching Dear John and a bottle of wine could cure my herpes.
So he thinks I sent him a picture of my boob last night, but it was really just a close up of my arm.
He considered it romantic when he told me mid-blow job that no matter what happens, he will "never forget how good of a dick I suck". Verbatim.
Home safe. Psyche shattered. Still rolling. In love with the morrocan rug in the living room.
I'm going to practice throwing things up the the air and catching them between my boobs, because that seems like a cool party trick.
Oh my god. A memory of last night just came to me. One of our neighbors joked about Thomas having a big dick and I just kept shaking my head profusely.
I love being high. The owl outside stopped who-ing and I could swear I just heard someone say, "Okay, that's a wrap!"
Come on down you're the next contestant on "lets go drinking!"
You don't have to have sex with both if us but I would like a little positive fucking regard.
It's like we're in an emotionally distant three-way and there's not even sex to show for it.
Im including "no monologues past 1am" in the list of apartment rules. Theatre majors dude.
STOP IT RIGHT NOW IM BEING A SINLESS CHILD OF GOD IN BED TRYING TO SLEEP AND YOURE SENDING ME MEMES ABOUT DICKS
So, I ran into Garrett last night in the laundry room.
Oh really? First post break-up run in. How'd it go? Awkward?
Um. We had sex on a washing machine.
Have you actually looked at the corn flakes box? I don't think the rooster has a soul.
Randomize
