Last night drunk me texted a sure to be hungover me my class schedule and locations for today. I'm like a mom preparing her child for the first day of school
they just tried to tell me they weren't big into drugs. A) it was the 70's. B) I've seen the pictures.
I just used 'come play with my balls' as a legitimate booty call attempt. And it worked.
Edward fifth and chaser hands
If anyone from work finds out about us I will rip your dick off, sew it to your forehead and feed your balls to you like little grapes
I'll be so proud. Like a proud mama bear freeing my slut cub into the wild.
Get your penis over here NOW. emergency
I found your knife. It was stuck in my bedroom ceiling.
It's like my life is one of those movies where after a bunch of outlandish events that only happen in a movie the girl realizes her true life calling and lives a great life with a sexy man of multiple races. But I'm stuck in the fucked up part where 25 year olds come in their pants.
I mean, how am I going to build a relationship on trust if he finds out I roofied him?
if you're the one who put those dollar bills in my bra last night, thank you because I just used that money to get myself a coffee
Got 3360 Shoppers points for buying Plan B. I guess this all worked out for the best.
I fear our relationship is coming to an end. Last night I felt the need to bloody apologise for waking him up with a blow job.
I cannot handle Xanax... I just turned my computer on and I googled how to work YouTube
I brought coffee but not enough for the naked guy on your porch
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