I wouldn't call it sex. It's like when you put a plug in a socket half way. It's not all the way in but it still turns on the light.
It's an acquired taste. Like keystone. Or caviar.
and that's how I found out my dad doesn't believe in towels... holiday magic.
Blew a line and having a jolly rancher... the day is looking up.
Dude that's beautiful. I've never heard of someone smoking with their bunny.
I feel like I have a connection with him. A marijuana-induced-spiritual connection.
My house smells like bleach. Also, I do not feel bad about all the stuff I stole from the hospital while I was there.
Looking back on this weekend, I'm most grateful I never brought up with word "toe-fucking" at the bachelorette party.
I just woke up to a ten minute voicemail of you sobbing about the X-Men. Stop getting drunk and watching Marvel movies.
BUT WOLVERINE IS SO TORMENTED AND JUST WANTS TO BE LOVED
Maybe because you rubbed my clit while we were making churros
that game of battleshots got way too fucking intense. why does the couch have burn marks now.
Drink drank drunk tankkkkn, LETS GO
Not only did I get the promotion, but last night after sex he took me outside and let me hold it for him while he peed in the snow. I made a heart. This week is going amazing
Alcohol won't break your heart. I mean, unless it's all gone maybe
He was awesome with her today. I can't say that it didn't make my Fallopian tubes sing "The Hills Are Alive."
I am so horny. It's like all the stress of finals week has relocated to my vagina.
Randomize
