Why must everything this weekend have to do with something going into or coming out of my vagina?
Can we pretty pretty please go to Mardi Gras tomorrow? I promise I'll be a good girl and not puke in a pledges car
Its official, if she bites your dick through your jeans, ya'll go together. A lesson you shouldn't have to learn after the fact.
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I was going to ask the people in the kitchen to keep the volume down, but they're cooking pasta at 3 AM and one complimented me on my polka-dot nightgown. They're high. No volume control.
I need a kidney, not a pussy. All the pussy in the world isn't going to save my life. Keep your pussy in your pants and give me a kidney.
I didn't have the heart to tell him that the reason my vagina was so "prelubricated" was because I had just had another gentleman caller an hour earlier. So, when he commented about how turned on I appeared, I just went with it.
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he may or may not have motorboated me on the steps of the library of congress
Basically, I'm sure one day I'll look back on this part of my life and be ashamed....
I feel like he better crank it up to level RG IV tomorrow. It's the fucking playoffs.
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