I am like the Mr. Miyagi of queefs.
New handbag passed the ultimate test. The walk of shame. I had a bra, tights, skirt, shirt & sweater in it and you couldn't tell. yessss.
Sitting on the curb by new england comics with a weeping drunk girl who's eating french fries saying she'll never be as successful as her sister the hand model. She's scaring the nerds.
I'm semi drunk. I just bought you penis moisturizer. Not kidding. Keep an eye out for the package. Merry Christmas.
Would I waste your time for mediocre porn?
I guess I can give it a shot. I usually just get belligerently drunk and go where my penis and feet lead me. No fights or getting too lost, so they seem to be doing a good job
eating chex mix on the couch when he walks in naked and asks how he looks. are you shitting me.
Well get back to your date and give him the ceremonial 1am handy and text me when your done.
answer my text you professional douchebag
and i mean that in the cutest, flirtiest way possible
I have a tab of a google image search of onion rings open and it is making me so happy.
I'll just tell you, some how when we were having sex on Friday my collarbone got fractured.
We broke the bed while I was handcuffed to the headboard and let's just say that was a hard one to explain to the RA
I threw up in the bathtub last night like a decent human being.
It's almost like he's actually taking my commentary and criticism to heart, but simultaneously succumbing to some primal urge to wear less clothing each time.
First time a guy goes down on me and his dog had its head on my knee the whole time. I swear it was judging me.
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