Todays menu: a.) girl manipulates dad into oral sex while mom contemplates suicide b.) leper fucks ass, leper's winky gets decapitated, leper continues to fuck ass anyway and c.) vintage porn, never fuck with a man that's just lost a game of Old Maid.
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.
If there's a book out there on what NOT to do during intercourse, I'd say this dude just paved the way for a fucking trilogy. Nevermind his Rosie O'Donnell-like figure, or his unsettling fetish for floppy disks. The real prize is at the 2.48 mark. Ladies and gentleman, this motherfucker just single-handedly brought back Planking.
Not the caliber of female I expected to see on the angry side of Simon Belmont, but I'll roll with the fantasy. Unfortunately there's no aftermath footage, but I would have to imagine by the time this was over it looked like she masturbated with a stick of dynamite.
Someone somewhere thought it would be really great to make a 70 minute porn film set in the Victorian era about a guy with a dick for a nose. Today we honor men like that and the amazing master-pieces of shit they produce.
The only time I've seen self-harming determination this powerful was in the /terraluna subreddit. And much like the ability to ejaculate to one of these anomalies, I think it's time to pack it up and admit defeat boys. disclaimer: This is not financial advice [you retard].
Remember the frigid chick that randomly started sobbing in the middle of a Rocco shoot? It was actually pretty touching, to both my heart & my penis. But apparently that encounter was only chapter 1 in a saga of piss-poor decisions.
Volume #5 in a collection of videos that Charlie Sheen would be ashamed to attach his name to. And without even a single appearance from a graduate of the Woodman School of Rectology, that's saying something.
I can't imagine what life decisions lead to your obituary being littered with the words "twerking" and "public nuisance" and "30,000 volts". But I'm betting it involves the neighbor's parakeet, and all 16 delicious flavors of Rice-a-Roni. (fuck you Rice Pilaf)
