please pick me up with an explanation of why i shacked in a trailer with a guy who doesnt have a car.
shes wearing a jean skirt, its frayed. i got this
this blows. i told the guy at the bar that i was the DD and it was like i just announced over megaphone that i had genital herpes. no one will talk to me now.
Some one left their pants in the elevator.
She's the barista slut.
No he didn't understand the sequence...then I started texting him these texts with vagina strategically spelt correctly in jumbles of letters.
When it gets to the point that I'm more comfortable being naked at his house than my own, it's time to readdress the fuckbuddyship.
I dropped my keys into the toaster and felt it push down as I pulled them out. Couldn't stop thinking it was a bad idea the whole time.
I still don't know how you've lived this long.
I need drugs. Hard drugs. Today. Not tomorrow. Today. Something relaxing.
I'm drunk, laying in bed, eating macaroni salad. I dropped a piece and tried to pick it up with a fork. My cleavage is bleeding and I haven't been laid yet. Heeeyyyy!!!
I literally have anal toys soaking in the bathroom sink and dinner on the stove. If that doesn't scream "domestic goddess", I don't know what the fuck does.
He has great stamina, he knows how to use his tongue, and he's hung like a goddamn Pegasus. I can overlook the man bun.
That reminds me of the morning I woke up on the sidewalk covered in chicken wings
I had to cum in my sink.
i realized my signature handshake has now become a hookup. i love what college has done to me.
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