he also begged me to fake an orgasm when he couldn't get me to come.
Why not. Its my b-day, you're in town, I'm in town, bars are in town, and alcohol is in town. I don't see anything not good about those things.
she was stripping to whiskey lullaby. most depressed boner.
I'll just tell her I'm here with you picking out a buttplug for her to say "I'm sorry".
He just dragged himself across the floor on his back claiming to be "the swiffer" help
good news: I made it out of bed and into shower. Bad news: I made it back to bed without clothes. Worse news: I don't know this bed.
Do you think I threw out my left shoulder during the keg stand or the stripper pole? It's medically relevant my chiropractor wants to know.
You're getting spoiled, you better send me at least a side boob pic if you wanna see my dick dressed up as Davie Crockett.
All I could think of during that funeral was how great I look in a suit, how creepy catholics are, and how horny I am.
I miss the good ol days when id just come home from school and thered be a costco size box of condoms on my bed.
my parents really loved me back then.
Stoned, and eating Doritos, and reading about lesbians for class. This is the life.
Is it rude to ask for an autograph after giving him a blowjob in their hotel's hot tub?
But I made it seem like I wasn't hungover at work, so that's a plus.
Just fyi i'm now butt naked in a steam room smoking a bong in some guys house. i sense the weed penetrating my pores.
In the words of Disney’s Jafar, “desperate times call for desperate measures.”
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