It's not your typical work-related injury, but these things do happen... especially when someone is intentionally thrusting their foot into your vagina. It could've been worse - a flesh wound via jagged toenail... that would've put her out of work for good.
Is this still considered pornography? Or something that gets submitted to a performative art school as a final project? Because if you're waxin carrot to shit like this, it might be is definitely time for intervention.
Today's Menu: 1) Conor McGregor post-retirement 2) Ballin on a Budget 3) Hard Times Daddeh 4) The Mastadon Challenge 5) Contents Under Pressure 6) Always Get Your Moneys Worth
You know the deal: It's the height of the pandemic and funds are circling the drain. So you hit up the local videographers and offer your services to the highest bidder. I_CUM_HELLMANS hits up your DM's on Reddit and now the smell never washes off. GG NO RE
Our newest philanthropist has officially crossed the line into perverse territory. Not even his predecessors can claim they've pushed their love of charity this far before. Take 2 showers tonight. Just in case. [ PART I ]
Speculation time: Virginal? Medical condition? The mating ritual of the Monarch Middle-aged Edokko? We may never know the real answer, but one thing is certain: His speed-running ability would earn front page access on Twitch. No questions asked.
What the fuck happened to April O'neil? It seems a few years ago she entered into some sort of porn studio residency and is being forced to churn out horrendous shit like this at gun point. Today's flavor? One of the few Fortnite players that doesn't have body odor reminiscent of Regal popcorn butter". POGGERS IN CHAT ༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ
There's only two people on Earth that should never be caught fishing for brown trouts: Lindsay Lohan in her 'i'll snort Tide Pods' phase, and this chick. She's 19, anti-semen and dumber than a mailbox on Sunday. In other words: she was BORN for eFukt.
A rousing assembly of women that don't believe teh night is over until their clout levels have reached unmeasurable proportions. Reminiscent of a reoccurring dream I keep having involving Brock Lesnar and Long John Silver’s Cocktail Sauce.
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.
