Irrationally sized flobberweavels, a urethra that's suffered more abuse than whoever the fuck bought Barstool for $500 mil and the recreation of a classic in glorious high(er) definition. Don't think of this as the balanced breakfast you need, think of it as the one you deserve.
Honest. Natural. Doesn't run more filters on herself than an industrial fish tank. Cindy had all the tools to become the next big thing. But 20 seconds into some Sacramento turtlenecking & she's out the door quicker than me watching Fast X. Want to steal his look? [-BUY A SHIRT-]
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.
More than enough reasons (see: 1) to never "try that thing i saw on the Internet with my girlfriend". Somewhere between the beef bazooka blowouts and frantically Google searching "how to get cat litter out of my vagina" you'll lose that last shred of dignity Dr. Phil is always screeching about.
This dude ejaculates Grey Poupon. Straight up. It's the most bedazzling shit I've seen since that picture of Jesus appearing on a dog's asshole. Be sure to keep a towel handy in case you vomit and/or nut.
You gotta admire commitment in anything. This young lady was so devoted to the scene that when it came to anal, she soldiered through it. When it came time for the cum shot, she fellates his fecal flavored ram rod without hesitation.
I like her face. I like her enthusiasm. But above all I like her devotion to commitment. Her borderline absent reaction to an explosive device detonating inside her spincther however, has reinforced my stance on late-term abortions. Like, 35 years late. Toss a token in the abyss via the source link.
Lispy the 'racist camera man' teaches us a new word and turns an anal scene into a hilarious cluster fuck. The music is a piece by Mozart and the title translates to "lick my ass"; seemed fitting.
Willing humiliation, being choked unconscious and receiving more hits than one of those bullshit primitive building channels. No, it's not Connor's return to the octagon. But it's still gonna cost you $79.99 if her 1st name has a hyphen in it.
See that rush of fear around the 3:00 mark? That's the kind of reaction second only to a man that has miscalculated his maximum capacity for P.F. Changs Orange Chicken in a public venue. And I think that's something we can all relate to. L, OH, fuckin L
