This piece highlights some cases of shoulda locked the fucking door but I'm thinking with my genitals and other hilarious cases of people getting busted.
We aren't talking about your traditional hole-to-hole, human centipede sausage link simultaneous penetration here. But someone ramming their jelly bean into you immediately after pulling it out of a sibling is just as reprehensible, so it still counts. I've been appointed to the head of this committee and those are the rules I've outlined.
Lispy the 'racist camera man' teaches us a new word and turns an anal scene into a hilarious cluster fuck. The music is a piece by Mozart and the title translates to "lick my ass"; seemed fitting.
Hiking trails? Elevators? Nursing homes? That's right, all of your most unassuming entertainment venues come at a hidden cost. Just a non-related tip of the day: Steer clear from any dipping sauces that have the word tangy in the name near closing time. Trust me.
To truly appreciate this one you have to understand it's completely legit. This isn't just any old deviant pretending to get crotch lice at the carnival. And it may very well be the first documented swinger cuckolding. In other words: The only way Pavol is getting pussy juice on his face today is if he starts crying.
The legend returns in full pussy punishing force. Watch part one HERE and come back to learn his secret on how he tricked over 100+ women into letting him plank-fuck them on film without paying.
Not only do women work fewer hours than men, they choose different careers. Women are more interested in people, while men are more interested in things. They also take more browns to the Super Bowl than the NFL ever has in 98 years. - Jordan Peterson
See that rush of fear around the 3:00 mark? That's the kind of reaction second only to a man that has miscalculated his maximum capacity for P.F. Changs Orange Chicken in a public venue. And I think that's something we can all relate to. L, OH, fuckin L
Not exactly the most unexpected chain of events from a class of people that come less prepared for war than whoevers handicap stall I invaded at Waffle House last week. Sorry Wheels, but the bucket in the janitor's closet simply doesn't meet my capacity standard.
It truly never ends. Let's just label this one the Shawshank Redemption of "wtf, your load tastes like Alan Greenspan's deceased asshole" Alan probably isn't actually dead, but I trust that the implied mental image is still effective. Game on.
