I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
why are there post-it notes all around the apartment labeled where you guys had sex and in what position
he's downstairs watching tv with my family... I called the home line so my mom could bring me my make up bag cause my real face would prob make him delete my number
We pinky-swore to never fuck each other again.
The port-a-pottys are knocked over so I have nowhere to sleep.
Its okay I walked into your house, searched for my wallet in your purse, and took a shot of Tequilia all without eye contact, right?
i think he spiked my sandwich with a viagra
okay have fun. but Under NO circumstances ever attempt to outdrink the german exchange student. no matter how badly you want to blow him. just don't.
Nothing bonds a father and daughter like washing her puke off the front steps
I feel like there is something fundamentally wrong with me as a woman. My initial text to you was "What's up, fuck bucket?"
I'm not even pretending to study anymore. I'm straight up sleeping in the library
Calm down I'm not kidnapping the bartender
He has fairy lights round his bed.. And played Jamie cullum when we had sex... Hes batting for the other team right?
can you bring the lube to algebra tomorrow
I just found my phone after looking for it since yesterday afternoon it was in the fridge.
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