This is why I carry a 12oz bottle of my mace in my center console. Rest stops are great for quick 'on the road' jackoff sessions but they're almost always laden with dirty old men looking to score free peep shows. If they want to see me make love to myself, they gotta pay... otherwise it's mace to the face.
idk what the fuck is going on in that last clip. But if that isn't the body type of a woman that's muttered the words 'i used dijon mustard as lubricant while losing my virginity to a neighbor's pontiac fiero' at Festivus dinner, idk what is. Now apologize to the laws of thermal dynamics.
I'll go ahead and pass on the van life vibes half of these participants are exhibiting, but it's still better than what passes for the norm today: Cosplaying as a gAmEr guRL that rations bathwater for tier-3 subscribtions and "whoopsies" her way through milk toast sexual acts. Pay close attention to that last clip my ever growing OF creators: This is the content we want.
4+ minutes of public debauchery so misunderstood, you'll wonder how long it will be until Amber Heard drags them in front of a judge. Especially that duo clapping cheeks arm's length away from the bratwurst dujour around the 0:49 second mark. Just marvelous.
Hiking trails? Elevators? Nursing homes? That's right, all of your most unassuming entertainment venues come at a hidden cost. Just a non-related tip of the day: Steer clear from any dipping sauces that have the word tangy in the name near closing time. Trust me.
Well shit, the only other time I've seen someone this determined to self-harm was browsing the /terraluna subreddit. And much like her inability to pass a gonorrhea test, I think it might be time to pack it up and find a safer hobby. Like collecting Pokemon cards, or building hydrogen bombs for example.
The more inbreeding in your bloodline, the further you'll go to seek sexual satisfaction. A simple concept, officially reinforced by whatever director's cut episode of Survivor Man is going on in that last clip. I'll put it this way; in comparison it makes Jeppson's Malort seem like a fucking delicacy. It's that abhorrent.
Traditional association with Juggalos tends to be littered with words like disfigured and faygo and the aroma of a Sudanese outhouse... but not today. I'll bet my bottom dollar underneath all of that Walmart makeup, Krustina the Klown is a girl worth getting to know. Support them [-HERE-] and [-HERE-]
And by experience, I mean one man blowing up his beer money on the kind of sexual endeavor that would shell shock a Vietnam war veteran. Speaking of blowing up: The only thing missing from that slaughter house between her legs is someone in the background screaming wUrLstAr and Floyd Mayweather coming out of retirement to fight it.
A special service bulletin for the female viewer(s). Next time you feel like exposing your rotten tator tot to the general public, read a couple chapters of Everything I Know About Women I Learned From My Tractor by Roger Welsch first. Maybe you'll find what's missing in your life.
