i'm in his bathroom *freshening up* and he not only has a hairdryer... but a straightener. get me out of here... NOW
I drove you home. there is no excuse for wrecking your car 3 hours later.
you rubbed the head of my dick and said "I shall call you Squishy and you shall be mine and you shall be my Squishy."
I think you're asking the wrong person. You don't understand. Like I would fuck the act of fucking itself if I could.
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Do they take checks?
Did you really just ask me if you could write a check for a DRUG DEAL?
our conversations pretty much only consist of the phrase 'fuck you'. and the sex is fantastic. we've got a great thing going here.
If I pissed all over some chicks bed I would probably apologize for getting so wasted, not putting out, and turning into a god damn R. Kelly Cinderella... Not ask for coffee and a ride home.
So hungover. I'm getting too old for trolloping around in disco shorts going shot for shot with well behaved underclassmen in an effort to lure them to the dark side of alcoholism and liver failure.
all I'm saying is that my epic blow jobs have made grown professional football players cry in ecstasy
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I threw up this morning to Silent Night playing in background. It was actually quite soothing.
I smell like Dick and happiness
on the bright side i found your panties and the lid to the nutella
I need to show you how I feel about you by fucking you repeatedly.
he's figured out my code; what are you doing = I haven't found a better dick yet
What time is our conjugal visit?
Umm...who is this?
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