Belladonna is down for dog cock, Proxy Paige wants to fuck her own mom, & Annette Schwarz gets wet thinking about vomiting on senior citizens. Goodbye okcupid.com, my search for companionship has been fulfilled.
Pretty much a public service announcement on the importance of knowing your limits before inking a deal. Some live to tell the tale. Others, are memed for life. But all have an abnormally intimate relationship with Newport cigarettes and Klonopin before the age of 25.
As we head towards the final sunset of a year that gave more than one reason to disembowel our own eyeballs with a stinger missile, it's time we reflected. May 2024 bestow upon us more trolls, deeper holes and Twitch.com finishing it's metamorphosis into Chaturbate.
We're talking girth here. It's not often you see [siswet] tap out. At one point in time I was convinced this woman's asshole was going to be the solution to New York City's parking shortages. Now I see even the grand canyon itself has a capacity limit. Never meet your heros.
It's funny, after a while you realize they are just like normal people. Only totally insane. Prolly from fapping over and over everyday, hours on end for sophisticated gentlemen like "BigDickRick", "TruckerSteve", and "NarutoFan76".
A special "BRUH" moment for clip #4. I honestly haven't seen a woman that concerned since I test ran the floor units in Home Depot's toilet bowl section after White Castle started selling their burgers by the hundreds. Let's just say I'm not allowed to improve my house again until 2027. TAKE IT AWAY CORPSEGRINDER.
Homing in on the 10-clip anniversary of offensive sexual acts among a global pandemic, and yet I remain hopeful. I mean hopeful that people in quarantine will continue to produce more reprehensible content than a Harvey Weinstein video library, not the Covid stuff - we're fucked. Like the guy in the first clip: Fap until it goes dark.
I'll admit that last clip might be enough to ruin your holiday feast later today. But it's Thanksgiving and you probably need something to talk to grandma about before the sweet potatoes hit the table. You should be thanking me, Mortimer. [PART I] [PART II]
Another chapter closed in a book that Barnes & Noble insists on displaying in the Sci-Fi section. Normally read in the dimly lit corner of a trailer park that doesn't show up on Google maps, surrounded by Newports and half-eaten cans of Costco's finest meatball ravioli.
