I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
I hate when laundry day is determined by the number of cum stains on my bed
i just ran into our bio chem professor at the bar. apparently, he doesn't follow the "no slapping your students' asses" rule.
My own vomit just splashed me in the face. How's your day going
No, I'm in the bathroom trying to scrub off the 16 tally marks on my wrist so its not so obviously to the world that I puked on a couch last night.
All of a sudden i love everyone. In all their flawed and failing beauty. This is pretty good weed.
I don't judge her for getting booty calls at 2 in the morning, so she can't judge me for staying in friday nights and putting spray cheese on pringles.
The best part of that night wasn't even the sex, it was listening to her explain to her boyfriend why she was naked in her room while I hid in her closet.
But you're the one who should be jamming foreign objects into my vaj instead of an old weird lady. I mean, it is your birthday....
my balls were so many shades of blue last night I could have used them as paint and replicated the entirety of Picaso's blue period. The girl was an art major I feel like this metaphor is appropriate.
just had sex in my dorm hall public bathroom while wearing my favorite cat sweater. tonight was a win
no strings attached, like you could fuck him and then throw him off a building right after
why is there a shopping cart in my back seat? and a dick drawn on the side of my car?
i made out with his shirt. MDMA, man.
I mean, if I asked you, would you cum on cotton candy for me?
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