Never have I seen a man do something so incredibly vile with such charm. Where there's tension, he provides laughter. Where there's pain, he provides comfort. And where there's feces on the tip of his penis... he provides dinner.
Consider this an open letter to the content creators out there: I will donate the $13.75 I made trading Krypto Kittys with down syndrome to a charity of your choosing, in exchange for promising to never use condiments on your wiener ever again. The balls are in your courts.
UPDATE: this girl actually emailed me, here's the background story - she lives in a KKK-laden town where 12 inch black wangs are the forbidden fruit. Undeterred, she sought salvation on blackplanet.com and ultimately bit off more BBC than her vagina could chew.
See the thumbnail? Get used to making that face. For you're about to meet a woman with enough human-grade roast beef to end global hunger. I never finished medical school... but it's my professional suggestion she uses the $47.00 paid for this scene to buy a pair of hedge sheers on the way home.
Meet Allen. At almost 50 years old, he's never had sex and is on the verge of losing all hope. Now it's up to a $400 goth hooker with a heart of gold to help him lose his virginity once and for all... or will he fuck it all up?
Nevermind the fact that she talks like a slightly upgraded version of Stan's sister. What I really want to know is where this current trend of bodily fluids being used as a sole protein source started from. And I want to know now.
Here's some wisdom I picked up while watching an infomercial for Tony Little's Gazelle Sprintmaster - always maintain good form. Sloppy form is how people get killed. Don't think the same is applicable to sucking dick? Neither did she.
Imagine reaching a point in your life where fantasies just aren't doing it for you anymore, so you unleash an even deeper mental illness and create some sort of hybrid, cabbage patch fuck dance home videos and think not hiding your identity is a good idea. This is that point.
