I know its small, but please -- stop calling it my "weenis".
You're the 8th person from last night to text me this morning and ask if I'm ok.
He's married, a coworker, and a smoker. not sure which personal rule broken i'm most ashamed of...
Look, if he's not the brother with three nipples, I'm just not interested.
I remember trying to cut the power to a house I thought was "too bright to understand the meaning of christmas". Pretty sure I blacked out down the street.
And then you'll find yourself a hot chick and leave me behind with nothing but my back fat to keep me company.
It was dark, she woke me up, gave me a blowjob and then whispered in my ear: do you know who I am?
I hope your pay increase has gone through because I might need bail. This is not what I dreamed adulthood would be like.
I am a 5'4" ball of sexual frustration and vodka. It is that kind of night.
classified somewhere between kinky and medically inadvisable
Just letting everyone know that I am still alive after last night. On a related note, this is the 15th "I'm not dead!" mass text I've sent. You've got to celebrate the little things.
Oh and an honorable mention for your father's porn collection. Things I'll never forget.
he brought with him gifts of cookie dough and penis. upgrading our relationship from fwb's to bf/gf was an incredibly smart merger.
He left a full handprint on my ass. He called it a "five-star review."
Sorry I didn't call this morning. Ended up with a decorated war veteran last night who besides finding the enemy, KNEW where the fuck my G spot was. He gets a medal in my book!
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