This is from a Russian film called Philosophy Of A Knife. It's about the Japanese Unit 731... the one that pretty much spent a decade coming up with ridiculous ways to kill people.
Some men need oral stimulation to get off. Others, a $20 shopping spree at Buffalo Wild Wings. And then there's this Vlad the Impaler lookin' mother fucker who needs nothing more than basic silverware to send his himself over the big-O rainbow. Hint: May be better enjoyed while listening to this classic piece.
Between the carnivorous instructions that might actually devolve human beings and whatever the fuck ancient language was trying to leak out of the guy in the last clip, I think it's safe to say we have some form of a predicament in our education system.
AKA "The Ted Bundy Sex Doll Treatment". She was carefully sculpted by the loving hands of a master craftsmen. Made to be life like, made to look real, made for your loser uncle to fornicate with. Made to be destroyed. SAUCE.
If it wasn't for the guy getting his hot dog caramelized I was going to say society has gotten too soft on sperg-like sex acts that belong behind closed doors or in a WNBA locker room. I expect nothing less from citizens that look like Buc-ee's is their favorite restaurant.
We as humans are at the fuckin' highest point of civilization we've ever achieved. Our technology is more advanced than ever before in history and recently, we put a dildo in orbit... Welcome to the new age.
Amazonian domination, severe rectal irrigation tutorials and we finish strong with the 99th reason to always leave classic movies in their original form. More here: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]
Short of being an extra on Rocco's Retirement Village Tour (coming 2035) I'm not sure how these talents come in handy. Never knowing the feels of a consensual relationship maybe? An existence without having to shop for birthday gifts? idk man
Only 1 thing compliments the relaxed feel of a holiday weekend - And that's getting more rash on your crotch from a guy you salad-tossed than the toilet in a Portuguese farmhouse. And to those inbreds in the last clip: End the bloodline here. This never needs to happen again.
Flattery was never my strong point... and it still isn't. Half the decisions here look like they were made by a person that smokes wet Newports, and yet everyone is chowin down like it's grandma's old fashion applesauce. Your fellow Walmartians will be hearing about this.
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.
