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.
Those crazy porn directors have made a full movie featuring the entire systematic sexual conditioning of ones daughter into a fuck buddy. All in magnificent POV. Disturbing? Sure. But is it fappable?
If any of you ever want to launch one of those "Top 10 Ways to Make a Girl Break up With You" kind of blogs, make sure some of these specimens are on the list. Somewhere in between Fortnite themed flip flops, and listening to Ed Sheeran.
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.
The Oakland Doorknob. German Knuckle Cake. Mongolian Taco Punching. Not buying Bitcoin when it was 73 cents. It goes by a lotta different names. But the shame... thats always the same.
Aim for dry ground and let 'er rip. That's been the formula for centuries... until Krystal "i have standards" Steal showed up. You see, she has more apathy for body fluids than Paula Deen has for low fat potato chippies. Ever wonder what it would be like if KFC had an all-you-can-eat buffet? That's the kind of 'sounds fun but always ends bad' disappointment I'm talking about here.
Classic cases of unbridled overconfidence. If only these creatures put as much effort into velcroing their crotches shut in public, as they did into experimenting with pain medications: Then maybe these permanent marks on their resumes could have been avoided. Yikes and gadzooks.
Apparently Clayton Bigsby has an extended bloodline we were completely unaware of. Practice what you're about to see here & I promise - those pesky NPC'S will never scream "racism" again.
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.
