#3 is quite adorable. She may not understand the consequences, but her facial expressions certainly have a story to tell.. namely "ouch, that hurts", "please hurry up" and "why in the fuck did I quit my job at Hotdog On A Stick for this shit". Live and learn baby.
Not old enough to leave Food Lion with a 6-pack of Bud Light, but she's already carrying a body count that would make a frat house blush? You'd think by the semi-centennial cock that went 1v1 with DM-TrainTrackFace she would've learned to fertilize the backyard. But... nope.
Don't let the confidence in her voice fool you: This cholita's ability to withstand pain is about as real as her soggy pancakes in a pushup bra. As illustrated by his first, second and 17th attempt to keep a decent rhythm in her poo canoe. The end result? Well... you'll see.
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.
Her ability to wipe her ass is on par with Tom Sizemore's ability to not beat women. Fortunately at least 1 person in this vid has some considerable talent, and that's the dude that miraculously didn't peel over & die after getting a whiff of her shit-box!
You know you're in some sort of bat shit crazy porn renaissance when Japan comes in last on the list of things you shouldn't masturbate to. Between the Tijuana down syndrome family plan and whatever the fuck Insane Clown Posse is doing at 1:45, idk if I should cum or cry.
As we head towards the final sunset of a year that gave more than one reason to disembowel our own eyeballs with a stinger missile, it's time we reflected. May 2024 bestow upon us more trolls, deeper holes and Twitch.com finishing it's metamorphosis into Chaturbate.
Another chapter closed in a book that Barnes & Noble insists on displaying in the Sci-Fi section. Normally read in the dimly lit corner of a trailer park that doesn't show up on Google maps, surrounded by Newports and half-eaten cans of Costco's finest meatball ravioli.
An aryan idol sexually trolls the hotel bell hop in order to win a "contest" that may or may not even exist. Regardless, Michael Cera is here to help. Although I'm not entirely convinced he's ever done this before.
The upside to being treated like the exhaust pipe of a Chevrolet El Dorado? Literally nothing. All you have to do is breath and the alpha male fantasy fan fiction will magnetize to you like a herpes outbreak at a Playboi Carti concert.
