I don't know what's more sad: The fact that he fingered the side of my leg, or the fact that the side of my leg feels like a vagina.
Until he has ordered mozzarella sticks & beers at 2pm while wearing formal attire, then this is still my bar.
so it turns out, not only do the doormen judge the girls I bring home, but they rate them.
im failing my bio class b/c he booty calls me wednesday nights at 6 like clockwork
on the way to the hospital you kept asking if we could stop at the bar first. then you proceeded to puke out the window
Security said no more parties of this kind. To me that translates to Theme party this weekend.
He fucked me so hard I might have to go to the hospital for internal bleeding
Can I have him when you're done?
Dude, they're still mid-coitus. Pretty sure running in to high five my roommate mid-thrust is a mood-breaker.
I'm going to take a nap so I don't feel like a stripper sneezed in my mouth tomorrow morning at work.
I distinctly remember telling him "I'll suck your dick while you eat pizza"
Oh no. Did you guys fuck on my pull out couch?
he won't tell me his last name, but I know his garage key code
At one point, the bartender wrote out the words "please kill me" on some receipt paper and slid it across the bar to me.
Is it immoral to trade sex for the use of his laundry room?
i can eat my weight in tater tots. don't test me, bitch
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