I have a pretty basic diameter of my vaginal abyss. I'm sure it won't hurt.
She came to work with 6 additional layers of make-up, playing every Nickelback song about explicit teen sex, and with a dozen twinkies she bet she could finish without chewing any. I'm investing in a rape whistle.
I wish you could order shots online.
Doctor said I have sports induced asthma.
Call me old fashioned, but around here we call that "out of shape."
Nothing says I have a hang over like telling your boss to "eat your shit"
I'm up to 9 pic of different guys. I need 4 more boys and each one of the 13 to submit 3 additional pics. I wanna make a penis deck of cards.
In all seriousness, if tomorrow night becomes a heated game of Which Ex Gets To Take The Plastered Birthday Girl Home, I'm going to bow out with my integrity intact.
He paid me $20 to swallow a baggie of glitter, which turned out to be the best decision I've ever made. My vomit has never been prettier.
The sex was so good I went temporarily numb. Slightly embarrassing when she pointed out I was kissing my own arm.
She is currently expressing her joy for "bad to the bone" through interpretive dance...
It's all good, I've hated people for lesser reasons than being my ex boyfriend's favorite pro athlete of all time
I rammed pretzels and Jell-O shots down the throats of those I loved.
She was doing hand motions and used straws from drinks like those airport light batons to have me back my "747 jumbo dick" towards you.
My boss asked me to pass over one of my business cards and instead I had condoms fall out of my wallet, how’s your day going??
"They won't do it. I'm in the middle of darkness. " and "Probably going to die. I've been walking for 50 minutes in one direction" are the last texts I got from Steve
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