We succumbed to passion, and then he had to go meet his girlfriend. End of story.
I just found out my birth date is Pick Your Poison Day. Goodbye, conscience, forever. I was born to live like this.
I've made out with men from every corner of the globe. Sex-wise, I've almost conquered europe. Take that napoleon
thanks for paying me in special brownies...but brownies dont pay the rent...anymore.
I'm worried my skin won't stretch enough to handle this boner. Then what?
You got into a heated argument about Frankenstein's intelligence while double fisting burritos from taco bell.
Somehow ended up home, probably had something to do with the makeshift ladder from my second story window. Now headed to church, still drunk, and still fighting back the vomit of a thousand different alcohols. Successful night.
When did angry sex become our thing?
I GOOGLED IT. BEES CAN MASTURBATE. WHAT.
Ugh contemplating vodka and chocolate protein powder as this Capri sun and vodka isn't really cutting it
But in fairness, I would totally have a robo-penis as long as it had full sensation.
I walked in on him pumping himself up by headbanging to the drumbeat from Jumanji.
She says the reason I don't talk to her is because I'm "emotionally lazy" what ever that means
He is a sex God. It lasted more than an hour, and I don't remember how many times I came. I lost count at 57.
5 seconds ago I had no idea that a fart could travel so fastly thru the tanning bed. I taste it in the back of my neck.
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