Get your hand out of your ass!
how did you know my hand was in my ass? Guess where my other hand is..?
In your belly button
He's a firefighter, who has his own band. I'm pregnant just thinking about him.
#1 lesson to be learned from mardi gras this year: lock your car doors or some grimy dude like me might just bang in it and use your backseat as a kleenex
I've reached the slutty point of no return. And it feels like multiple orgasms and coke lines
remind me to get a blood sugar test this week. I'm pretty sure I'm a mojito away from diabetes.
And we won't even have to pay the tab if we die AT the bar. So..win win.
I'm actually not sure I need to run today, between the crazy monkey sex and breaking into my own house.
I have learned that if you don't want to hook up with the guy who walked you home, food is great compensation.
I told the guy that if he didn't put enough pepperoni to earn the name " pepperoni feast", that I was gonna sue him for all he had. Believe it or not, that's all I remember.
I was so ripped I had a natty light box over my head carrying a spray bottle out in the streets trying to give car washes.
We could have a classy candlelight sonic dinner with fireball cocktails if you leave now. Twat tickler centerpieces.
He said the main reason he fucked me was cause of my storm trooper tattoo. IT ATTRACHES ALL THE HOT NERDS
You could at least care enough to fake an orgasm for me.
What the fuck dude? Now it's a "who is this?" convo going back and forth. Like... helllloooo you just sent me a picture of your penis! I'm entitled to ask who the fuck it is. I can't verify an identity by a body part.
Are you still in his room?
Nope, yogged home at 8 am with one shoe on.
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