DJ Jackoff ventures into the wrong part of town to land himself a $5 piece of ivory pussy. However, his efforts are thwarted mid-fellatio by a local warlord known as The V-Man (short for Vaginal Master) who's heavily armed with "rocks and sheet". My oh my!
It's all giggles until you hit 5:15. My advice? Be less worried about token counts and more concerned with whatever off-road vehicle ran that thing over and fled the scene. The fuck is going on down there? And more importantly, how many Tremors movies are we up to now?
Tripling down on a sub-culture that has defied all odds and normalized paying for content less interesting than giving Betty White 15 unsupervised minutes with a lawn sprinkler. These hype machines never seem to deliver. But the ones that come up really short? These might get a nut or 5 out of you. [PART I] [PART II]
The best part of having less shame than the 2000 Spanish Paralympics Basketball team? Walking around half mast during lunch hours is no longer for the unsuspecting Chinese delivery man to enjoy alone. That last dude clearing two floors and sprinting half naked though? The girl cheating must've had grip harder than Gollum at Mount Doom.
Meet Allen. At almost 50 years old, he's never had sex and is on the verge of losing all hope. Now it's up to a $400 goth hooker with a heart of gold to help him lose his virginity once and for all... or will he fuck it all up?
To find a man truly worthy of this title we must dig deep into the early days of internet pornography. A time when potato quality was top notch and only took 2 hours to download.
Flat-chested girls everywhere rejoice because there's worse things in life than having no tits. You could have weird tits and add implants, leaving you with gigantic weird sideshow tits. And back problems.
If the first chick doesn't have the look of a girl that's admitted to losing her virginity to a mailbox, I don't know what is. A moment that was probably about as unintentional as me using Cowabunga Bay Water's wave pool as my own personal porta potty. Apologies to visitors between years of 1998 - 2013.
The lore actually goes deeper than you could have ever imagined. It's not about the volume of anonymous vagabond cocks. It's not about the money. It's about sending a [fucking] message.
Poor prosti gets sandbagged by a local gentleman who's only sexual experience involves Walmart's checkout line & Colt 45. But apparently her dugout is built for the major leagues, cause despite his John McLane ingenuity... she still walks away with a smile. Fucking amazing.
Epic poker face @ .57 mark. I call this one the 'i totally just nutted in my own mouth but i dont even give a fuck cause i have a 6.7 inch penis and listen to Rage Against The Machine on vinyl' look. Dude's got that shit mastered.
Not since the 2005 release of 1 Night In Chyna have I seen a woman with such a fucked up misunderstanding of eroticism. She grunts like pirate, pisses all over the place, and has a finishing act that'll assfuck your brain cells.
