I have dreams of my penis being that big. I see myself wearing loose fitted short shorts with my wang hanging out the side as I rollerblade by the beach. Jealous men shield their girlfriends eyes as my cock sways back and forth in the wind.
Sonuva bitch... dude's packing the kind of penis that can only be described as "an emergency every time I have to take a piss". Time to call up AARP and find out what size wheelbarrow they're willing to cover for this kind of disability. Something in a dual-wheel polycarbon should do it.
Although this scene of Gianna Micheals finger banging herself had to be cut short after only 4 mins, Gianna proves once again how badass she is and just finishes the scene best she can.
My first pay-to-play happened in a Burger King toilet stall. She was more Kurt Perry than Katy Perry, Kinda foul. Not even a triple replay of Heather Graham's bush in Boogie Nights changed the mood that night. But... if I had this guy's attitude? Life... life would be different.
Ya know, I've always wondered what kind of standard the director of these JAVsterpieces are looking for when filming this bullshit. Like if the floater doesn't reach max buoyancy during the first take, does the entire production have to shutdown so "Shart Girl #2" can hit up catering to fill up on cabbage? The west may never know. #SP-672
Many a question will arise while shuffling through this one, but none more important than whatever comes out of your mouth around the 3:30 mark. Don't worry, you're not alone. I don't fucking know either.
Sorry to all competing rookies out there trying to cover the Vagisil bill: This is the type of content you need to be producing now. Those glory days of not acting like somebody hooked a lawn mower battery to your fallopian tubes to get attention are over. Devon... get the Flex Tape.
She escaped communist China in search of a better life. Only to find herself in a Detroit warehouse angrily jerking off dudes and giving unhappy endings.
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.
There's a thin line between trailer park erotica, and soul-deep emotional trauma. Where that line exists I don't know... but judging by the amount of dollar store tattoos I'm seeing on that body, I'd say this human Hindenburg sure as fuck does.
