I have to decide between the hot young blond with no apparent gag reflex, and the brunette with a great ass and a trust fund.
Our relationship is like that beach boys song "help me Rhonda" and I'm fucking Rhonda. And Rhondas's the whore in case you've never heard it.
I am the poster child for what not to do during sex. Soon they will be calling an undesired position after me
he walked down the highway for 3 miles at 4 am, and got me coffee on the way. i dont think a blow job would have been enough.
I can trace it back to that drunken night where we peed on each other in the shower.
They were greeting people getting off the 48 with green beers and cheers. The one day I decide not to take the bus home...
3 things. 1) we need alcohol 2) we need alcohol 3) we need tortilla chips. Let's make a plan. Bro shakes and salsa.
YOU ARE OBSESSED WITH PORCHES. I AM OBSESSED WITH PORCHES. HOW IS THIS REAL.
WHY DOES HE HAVE TO CALL WHEN I'M MASTURBATING?! This time I'm really pissed. It's like he knows he's depriving me of orgasms.
I currently need breakfast in bed, morning sex, and a bourbon and diet coke. Make this happen
I seriously want to say to him "Do you know how many blow jobs you could have gotten this summer?"
I have aggressive nipples.
I came so hard my ears popped.
We spent our last night together taking turns vomiting in the bathroom. I'd say it was a romantic trip.
And the you walked in and said to the only under age dude "IM NOT SLEEPING WITH YOU TONIGHT!!!" You may not have high standards but thanks for not sleeping with my brother!
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