Any college girl can pull off a DP, but to pull off near mythical feats of penetration you need a chick that's on a whole other level of promiscuous. Take Malibu Barbie over here, she can't even tell how many cocks are in her at any given time.
I've sat through 8 billion brother fucker storylines, the desecration of an icon and whatever the fuck this is. That being said, it's comforting to know I can still find astonishment in the super weeb fever dream you're about to witness. Good luck.
This is actually a pretty accurate title, so brace your dicks 'cause you are about to meet a one hundred and ten pound girl with a fuck hole like a wind tunnel.
Here it is. Three minutes of the 2nd most apprehensive plot lines that can escape the human brain during a spirited round of Billy Blanks Tae Bo 3-Pack DVD and resistance bands combo set on sale now at Amazon for Black Friday. Use promo code: BERGHOF
8 examples of why having too much confidence in yourself can be a bad thing. Cringe at them. Subscribe to them if you must. But do not encourage the kind of behavior that results in more disappointments than a trailer park family reunion. The world must heal.
Check her twat at the 1.55 mark. After no more than 15 seconds of diddling her clit, shit becomes the Niagra Falls of vaginal discharge. Camera dude says it's cum. I have 5 bucks and case of diet Mr. Pibb that says it's forgotten creampie from yesteryear.
Imagine reaching a point in your life where fantasies just aren't doing it for you anymore, so you unleash an even deeper mental illness and create some sort of hybrid, cabbage patch fuck dance home videos and think not hiding your identity is a good idea. This is that point.
Feast your eyes on a collection of o-faces so outlandish, it would be impossible to get a nut off in public without being caught. Especially if they are a distance shooter. Chances are they'll let loose near an active bus stop and catch one of the locals in the crossfire. It's called "The Cuban Waterslide" and I'm still paying the price for it to this day.
Not since ejaculating to Samuel L Jackson's death scene in Deep Blue Sea have I felt this much cinematographic remorse. They just let his wonder worm flap around without even an attempt at Photoshop. Five more leading roles like this and she'll be ready for Paul Anderson.
If the 1980's taught me something, it's that ANYthing goes as long as there's a killer soundtrack behind you. Except this. Not even the renaissance of crack will be held liable for this shit.
