Do you know that poor pathetic girl that we should be friends with
you don't seem to understand just how much pasta i spilled on my bed last night.
He was streaking. We were hammered. We had roman candles. It only made sense to shoot them at him.
the only thing coherent you said from what i saw of you is when you were throwing up, i asked if you were done and you just "uh huh you know what it is"
I called her new haircut "lesbian progressive" and now she's upset
I just had to tell her that no she really doesnt need to sneak pizza from mcmurrays out in a plastic bag for me later
I don't care how high you are, you can't finger me while eating potato chips.
I don't even know. I woke up in the bathtub with no shirt, covered in towels holding what appeared to be vanillia pudding mixed with captain morgan.
He drew a face on his balls with a sharpie. It was like giving head to a unicorn.
I have straight up perfected the art of amazing manicures with shaky-as-fuck adderall hands. Also, I'm way too proud of this.
Any story that involves the words "bloody hand job" and/or "sliced penis" is bound to be a good one, right?
I don't want his dick, I want his flame thrower!!
He called me dainty, then fucked me like the Viking God he is.
Thanks for fucking the skin off my dick
It was a joint effort between my vagina my feet and your hand you can't just blame that all on me
Her oh Gods turned into oh god I shouldn't be doing this I'm engaged.
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