Moscow drug mule gets into a personal world war with her own rectum, most likely the result of an all kholodets diet (look it up). Jiggy Saw himself once said: "When there's that much poison in your blood, the only thing left to do, is shoot yourself." In other words; She attempted to no-scope and succeeded beautifully.
Zero evidence of her chromosome count, but judging by this performance it's safe to say we're working with a surplus here. Not exactly a stark contrast for this website, but next time I want a female performance to leave me softer than a bowl of cotton candy I'll just turn on Impact Wrestling.
Consider this an open letter to the content creators out there: I will donate the $13.75 I made trading Krypto Kittys with down syndrome to a charity of your choosing, in exchange for promising to never use condiments on your wiener ever again. The balls are in your courts.
Real? Deceptive editing? The Goku of premature ejaculation? I don't have the answer this time. But just imagine if he went even further with this talent. Plan-B's entire industry would need emergency funding.
A baffling assortment of eccentric freaks so confusing out of place, you'll think you're watching the new Scream movie. There's a time and place for everything... except tag teaming a $1,000 dollar Queen's Blade figurine. That's a permanent no from me dawg.
Honestly, after making it to the end of this $27.00 budgeted shit show I'm inclined to believe the historical artifact should have stayed forgotten. The full version is over an hour long and makes The Blair Witch Project look like it's part of the Scorsese catalog. I do not recommend.
The lore actually goes deeper than you could have ever imagined. It's not about the volume of anonymous vagabond cocks. It's not about the money. It's about sending a [fucking] message.
Not since ejaculating to Samuel L Jackson's death scene in Deep Blue Sea have I felt this much cinematographic remorse. They just let his wonder worm flap around without even an attempt at Photoshop. Five more leading roles like this and she'll be ready for Paul Anderson.
When it's a girl's first time doing hardcore porn and she's too nervous on camera to put two syllables together, you get what I imagine to be the closest experience to fucking a corpse you can have without taking a trip to the morgue. Luckily the awkwardness only makes me harder.
Today is my old man yells at cloud moment as I inform you that a two foot garden gnome being yoinked out of a woman's lower digestive system makes me feel like the golden age of adult entertainment is long behind us. They truly just don't make them like they used to. It's over.
