I remember going home with 2 girls. Woke up with 4.
I fukin lobve the states. Girls here let me fuck them because they like my accent. I may not go back
at russian wedding, no open bar. bottles of vodka at table. getting to work tomorrow may be an issue.
All I can remember is being told by a guy named Kyle to stay in the corner until the cops left. Then waking up on a porch outlined in beer cans 8 blocks from my house. Pregaming for college.
I find it worrying that she bit me in bed. Then proceeded to write her name in bite marks. All without ever losing the rhythm of our fucking.
It's like rock paper scissors. Cold showers and smoking beat hangovers.
I'm at the bar, forgot my pants. Everyone's over reacting
making my breakfast out of the pot brownies we made last night. Safe to say it's time to go grocery shopping.
I just sat on the floor of my shower for 20 minutes to punish myself for drunk me's decisions.
I can count on one hand the number of good things that happened over the past year.
Is it bad when your own grandmother calls you a whore?
Step one: We finally agreed on an au pair that we both wanna fuck.
You made me promise I wouldnt let you play "fuck fuck goose" with a 40 year old ever again.
How did the test come back?
I've never been so happy to have a yeast infection. And i got a free pack of birth control
He loves blowjobs.. were meant for each other.
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