Sign of a brain-dead cunt: she acts like she’s ashamed to have her clothes ripped off and sperm slathered all over her face, when what she SHOULD be ashamed of is her half-assed snatch maintenance. You could sand a bookshelf with that thing.
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Ah, whores… when one strain of HPV just isn’t enough!
I love it when they know they were built to suffer.
Think how differently this day would have gone if you hadn’t cut me off in your boyfriend’s shitty fucking Lexus. If you had just waved an apology, given me a “my bad” look, anything else… any sign of human decency, really.… Read the rest “”
…so trip them and help the inmates catch up.
Such a talented puppeteer, to make a vacant toy dance so sensually upon a single string.
How many drinks, do you think? I mean, including the two you had at home, before the bar. Y’know, when you stood there, alone in the kitchen with the bottle in your hand, and calmly decided to make a mistake?
Was it… seven?… Read the rest “”
Where’s the money, Lebowski?!
I wouldn’t treat an animal this way. So what does that make you?
This doesn’t happen to girls who matter.
You know, real girls who aren’t weird little bits of fluff, who respect themselves, who could never even imagine reaching orgasm while men choke them and spit in their faces. The sort of girls who can make their way in the world, and not just hide from it behind faux smiles and blank stares.… Read the rest “”