I woke up to a paper award certificate for best blow job and he was gone. You're welcome mystey man.
Whatever. I'll let someone else deal with his flacid penis.
Ask politely.
Fine. Can i please come over, hang out with you, sit around a campfire, smoke tree, listen to sublime, and fuck the shit out of you?
Thats good enough.
better to have posed nude and lost than to never have posed nude at all...thats what i always say
IDK but this explains my bloody dashboard.
Im tired as fuck but i cant leave him here like this i gave him the acid and i feel the responsibillity to put his mind back together its fun im an architect about to about to construct a whole new belief and moral system inside this soul. Talk about the best psychothearpy
All I remember is lecturing my dog about how she's a lucky bitch to have a structured eating and shitting schedule.
So the stripper who poured a beer on my head also gives great head. Even she doesn't know why she went home with me. No more mystery shot challenges.
The worst thing about him living around the corner is that who ever suggests the booty call is the one that walks over.
The judge mental looks i am getting while looking at porn on my phone sitting in the urgent care waiting room is gonna get way worse when they find out im here to see if im pregnant
she's sitting there like the lesbian godfather. A cigarette in one hand and a titty in the other.
He wants to pour butter pecan flavored coffee creamer on me and lick it off. I'm like, dude, gross. French Vanilla ok? Ugh.
Who the abstract fuck do you think you are!?
Also I literally googled "how to fold socks" so that's how my day is going. How's yours?
I woke up thinking it was Friday. I was disappointed (to say the least). I am pretty sure I have gained the quarantine fifteen (but I won’t know until I try to put something other than elastic-waisted shorts on). And I am probably going to need dentures because I am grinding my teeth so much. But hey--this is temporary, right?
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