Every single piece. I examined every single square inch of this peanut butter and jelly sandwich. and fell in love with every inch. that high.
The door to door salesmen do not expect you to be drunk at 3 in the afternoon
I really need to find a new way to reward you other than head scratches, nutella and blowjobs.
I imagine her to be like a 19th century explorer/adventurer with different boys' hearts on her wall like animal heads
Like Teddy Roosevelt
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It isn't possible and the very mindfuck of that concept gives me a lady boner.
That's some primal shit right there. My vagina is all like CONSUME HIM AND HIS FRUIT HE WILL GIVE YOU SONS!
Oh shit. My drunken car sex is on Google Earth.
He's so urbane and sleek; so aesthetically chiseled, having endless features to offer me whenever I desire.
Are you fucking a guy or a condo building?
Either I think of sex like a man, or all the men in Vegas are women.
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No. Every time we go there, you end up getting high, then lost, then going home with strangers.
Don't you hate falling asleep on the couch with a glass of wine in your hand? It's like dreaming about peeing and then realizing you've peed the bed only stickier.
And the sexual frustration is like I'm wearing a damn horcrux
My Easter dress smells like alcohol, men, and bad decisions
At one point I believe I was despencing medical advice while wearing a sombrero and a hulk hand
Be careful, there is sex in the air.
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