Only 1 thing compliments the relaxed feel of a holiday weekend - And that's getting more rash on your crotch from a guy you salad-tossed than the toilet in a Portuguese farmhouse. And to those inbreds in the last clip: End the bloodline here. This never needs to happen again.
Little engines that just fucking couldn't. If there was a "Special Olympics" for sexual performance, these guys would still be the underdogs of the league.
This self-titled pimp from Arkansas goes by "Mrlongstroke2015" and today he has invited two ratchets over for a threesome show. One problem: the girls just beat him up.
Enter the strange world of MyFreeCams. Where internet prostitutes webcam models do weird shit for cyber money, like sexually teasing the local pizza delivery guy. What could go wrong?
It's that time once again to highlight some special times in webcam hookerdom. Witness e-prostitutes having breakdowns, getting attacked by small reptiles and other awesome wtfness.
Every so often I come across an individual that makes me ask: How much tarantula fucking middle aged misguided trailer park moonshine did they drink before this became a good idea? It's like someone took Rosie O'Donnell and made it harder to see her naked.
Never have I seen a man do something so incredibly vile with such charm. Where there's tension, he provides laughter. Where there's pain, he provides comfort. And where there's feces on the tip of his penis... he provides dinner.
I'm not totally convinced that all these girls have reached stardom. Also, I think Tabitha Stevens now qualifies for senior benefits, and one girl looks homeless, but whatever.
A socially inept goober gets a job getting jerked off by a hottie and manages to fuck it up, dashing his dreams of porn stardom in the process. It's like the movie Rudy, if Rudy was thrown out the game before ever playing and never scored.
There's a lot to digest here. But nothing is as concerning as whatever rodeo clown, double-wide uncle sister bullshit is going on around the 3:11 mark. Axe body wash isn't going to clean this feeling off me tonight. Time to dip into the disaster emergency kit.
Meet Luciana. aka Timea Bella. aka Indisputable Liar. She claims her stink whistle has less mileage on it than the Peloton in Ozzy Osbourne's basement, yet doesn't even call a timeout when Woody goes straight to the A. But when it comes time to sample some French vanilla, she calls it quits. Stay tuned for part 2 where I'll showcase her triumphant comeback.
