Hobo Jones coughs up 5 singles for a back alley knob-slob. Takes all but 23 seconds to reach climax, at which point he immediately helps himself to a full refund by forcefully robbing her and running for dear life... leaving her in the dust with a mouthful of bum cum! Instant classic.
Somewhere in the next 4 minutes you may ask yourself: What the fuck led to the creation of this? Amphetamines? Mental illness? An unhealthy addiction to masturbating with a Vitamix Explorian [2:20 mark] I don't know but... another sequel is most definitely in the works. [-PART 1-]
The only thing more arousing than a mother renting our her own flesh and blood to the tune of a 2 for 1 BOGO flash sale, is the sequel of a mother renting our her own flesh and blood to the tune of a 2 for 1 BOGO flash sale. I don't know about you but my shrimp roll just got supersized.
The downside of trying to get your nut off on a $7 dollar budget? This. Every fucking second of this video is why you should always save 10% of your sheckles and wait to splurge outside of the Black Friday Mental Hospital Manager's Special of expired street meat. #yick
Prozac-deficient e-girls are a welcomed sight here at eFukt... but this post isn't about the daddy issues. It's about intensity. These temper tantrums cut deeper than a Twitter feed, and while that might not be saying much, I'm confident you'll be impressed.
If you we're an emotionally messed up prostitute, I'm sure you would fucking hate talking about your life too. But would you hate it more then sucking the dick of a self-titled "crack whore connoisseur"? More crazy in the source link.
Ya know what. When you're stuck with gynecomastia and the endurance of a diabetic Snorlax, scoring women of this caliber probably needs to be celebrated. Congratulations to all these heroes. MORE: [-1-] [-2-] [-3-] [-4-] [-5-] [-6-] [-7-]
[what you know]: Anyone that's had a TV on after 1:00AM between the years 1997 and 2003 are still trying to get this fucking theme song out of their heads. [what you don't know]: Doug "hobgoblin" Stanhope had the approachability of post-nut clarity Clint Howard. I demand a reboot.
At first I was positive this was the same woman that keeps invading my Instagram feed with videos about blowing circus clowns and publicly shaming herself for having the vaginal odor of a Sudanese outhouse. But her (un)puckered starburst having the towing capacity of a Dodge Ram 3500 proved otherwise.
You know that feeling: When it's 0600 hours, the sun is shining, and you find yourself 4-inches deep inside the only girl that believed your story about using the same plumber as Zac Efron. In other words: Perfection. That is, unless Lucya "The Wolverine" Chernyshevsky is leader of the neighborhood watch.
