Director gets annoyed after discovering the star of his innocent themed porno flick is actually a post-crackwhorian guttertramp with a horrendous tattoo right where it counts. That's like casting Steven Segal in a drama about lesbians. Some things you just cant pull off, no matter how big your ponytail is.
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
Symptom #67 that you've graduated from pornstar to full blown drama queen: 3 pumps from Manuel Ferrara's ham hog makes her tap out faster than the Frank Shamrock/Kevin Jackson fight (look it up). Like my reaction after hearing Oprah Winfrey wants to run for president, you can literally see fear in her eyes.
Is it even possible to bring an oriental female to orgasm without the help of Bob Vila's signature series at this point? I don't know what evolutionary timeline they're living in over there, I can promise you this road only leads to an addiction to Newport cigarettes and a whole lot of apologies.
These stories have not been embellished, because - they need no embellishment. They are simply, horrifyingly, the story of the average degenerate human sharing space on this planet with you. Except that last one...It'd be more believable to call that woman a scientist, because the elements she's finding in there are undiscovered by man and Bill Nye.
Reminds me of something my grandpa used to say: Your output is only as good as your input. Not since the the trailer for Terminator Dark Fate have I been so disgusted with women over the age of 40.
Welcome to the far east, a place where vaginas are never shaved but always multi purpose. A place where a nice business man can get a sake and light a cigar off a strippers vagina. Fun times.
The pharyngeal reflex AKA laryngeal spasm AKA gag reflex exists to prevent us from dying, but it also makes it much harder to shove dicks down our throats.
The lore actually goes deeper than you could have ever imagined. It's not about the volume of anonymous vagabond cocks. It's not about the money. It's about sending a [fucking] message.
You know you had fun when the next day you wake up with a concussion and realize you not only left your phone, but you also forgot your clothes, underwear, sunglasses and self-respect at the club.
Today is my old man yells at cloud moment as I inform you that a two foot garden gnome being yoinked out of a woman's lower digestive system makes me feel like the golden age of adult entertainment is long behind us. They truly just don't make them like they used to. It's over.
