These porn producers, always so preoccupied with if they could, but never stopping to wonder if they should. I can't even imagine how awkward this scene must of been to film for everyone involved.
Another year has come and gone, so let's not forget to pay a much deserved tribute to the hardworking women of the porn industry. This one's for you, ladies.
2002-2004. An era of professionally produced pornography that should probably be forgotten. Not a single penetration was made, yet I feel like I've been fucked by spare tires and empty cans of Busch Light after sitting through this atrocity. The line dropped at 2:30 really makes you wonder how many Marlboro Miles these guy were paid for the scene.
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.
This dude ejaculates Grey Poupon. Straight up. It's the most bedazzling shit I've seen since that picture of Mike Tyson appearing on a dog's asshole. Be sure to keep a towel handy in case you vomit and/or nut.
Watch as emo Helga Pataki dirty talks Jimmy Noodle Legs during a hot coitus session. Turns out Jenny from Forest Gump isn't the only suicidal girl down for banging immobilized mental midgets.
College level alcoholism and risk seeking behavior has led them to a ratchet motel, wasted off vodka red bulls and making a quick $100 each. Shouldn't be any surprise that these girls never did porn again.
Some women that happen to look like rejected "Lord of the Rings" characters find themselves in a cheap hotel room, making a porn movie so atrocious that even the producer wouldn't show up to film it.
Not the first video that's made me question the female body, but it may be the only Efukt feature that gets into a Bubballoo Gum commercial. People deserve a little reality on their television. Not Dwight Shrute hosting a swap meet in Frog Balls Arkansas. Now where's that royalty check?
Of all the ways to absolutely starch what's left of your testosterone, scarfing down Milli Vanilli's splash damage was the last fucking thing I had my bingus card. Watching a stranger crack your s/o's purple turkey just doesn't make sense to me. Then again, anytime someone makes middle aged women squeal like a 2 for 1 HomeGoods sale, eyebrows are raised.
