Backpage's finest goes by "daddy's baby anal queen" and she aspires for greatness via her butthole. The only problem is she hates anal and her possibly worm-infested colon is so tight, it's like trying to fit an elephant in a Safeway bag.
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.
This is essentially a hybrid of THIS video + THIS video, or in more comprehensive terms: 3 parts female empowerment, 141 parts bat-shit fucking retarded. ENJOY.
For these ground breaking philanthropists, it's about destroying societal norms. Climb that mountain and nothing shall come between your communal oral cavity and legendary status. Save for a viral outbreak or four.
Today we're rounding third on a baker's dozens worth of boner-deflating cringe collections so bleak, you'll wonder what the point of sexual intercourse even is anymore. Just load up one of those Choose Your Own Adventure Hentai VR fantasies, and fuck the Hamtaros out of a face-swapped Charizard until you feel alive again.
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.
Not really surprising from a girl that calls herself Wisconsin Tiff, but the alternative medicine excuse for this behavior immediately goes out the window. Can't even blame the moon lettuce and it's sibling psychedelics for this digital footprint.
Looks like someone crossbred Rosario Dawson with a howler monkey and gave it rabies. But this isn't for the lulz... more about awareness. You honestly don't even need video for this. The soundtrack alone is enough to keep my Bugle Boy cut-offs on the rinse cycle.
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.
