Last night was a blur. All I remember is jizzing in the squeegee bucket at a gas station.
The look on the soccer mom's face was PRICELESS.
His hands were made for my vagina.
I walked into my room to see them crying, watching hey arnold, and passing a franzia box back and forth...
i'm only riding in the trunk because they put the case of beer back here..
nothin like your phone freezing up and sending out old booty calls at 11am on a sunday. fml.
I need to hump something and I know u understand.
No more morning sex. Just for once, my vagina would like to go to work bone-dry and bone-free.
I no longer exist. I have transformed into a puddle of sex.
Then that means he's outwardly conservative. Inwardly he's a total gay horndog. He's like a spy that can ruin conservative plans.
I want to change all my life goals to that.
Matt's offering to breast feed it.
You looked at me, said I was a nice guy. Then you drunkenly climbed on top of me and said you liked me and wanted me.
I'm by myself. some Midwest chick is hitting on me because I gave her a deviled egg. I need the distraction.
So vagazzling was a success
Sorry you saw my balls. Pregame includes a lot of shaving.
Speaking of dumpster fires, your ex tried to add me on Facebook
Randomize
