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.
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.
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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.
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.
You want to complain about your sex life to me? Right now mine consists of trying to masturbate lightly enough not to wake her up with bed shakes. Go. Fuck. Yourself.
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His penis contains the glue that keeps this relationship together.
We are both federal employees and Obama gave us a four-day weekend to lie in bed. Do you know how many orgasms that will be? I knew there was a reason I voted for this guy.
He was twisted. Literally. It's like God took his dick with a pair of pliers and gave it a half twist to the left.
To be clear, the next time I wake up with your dick inside me, I will reach down and grab one and squeeze until it pops like a grape. You've been warned.
I replaced his Viagra pills with sleeping pills.