Introducing yet another gaggle of Jerkmate's B-squad. Fresh off the bench and filled to the brim with asparagus and dollar store beer. Judging by some of these reactions one has to think the aroma they perspire is akin to the cellar of a Pakistani bath house.
Just when you think Brittany Bardot's HorrorPorn content was the most remorseful way to leave wet spots in your denim dungarees, she goes and shoots something like this. Sure is an interesting way of servicing the community tho. While normies reserve their public reamings for the Best Buy customer service line; she started her charity work at home.
Honestly, after making it to the end of this $27.00 budgeted shit show I'm inclined to believe the historical artifact should have stayed forgotten. The full version is over an hour long and makes The Blair Witch Project look like it's part of the Scorsese catalog. I do not recommend.
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.
The smile this dude gives off whilst getting his first dick-suck is fucking priceless. Worthy of it's own emoticon. Same goes for the someone-just-farted-in-my-face expression he exhibits once he realizes said blowjob has ended. Every 15 frames lies a Kodak moment.
Hot chicks + social anxiety. It's a phenomenal combination, second only to Mr. Pibb w/ Koala Yummies. Add a degree of sexual inexperience into the mix and you got yourself GF material, provided that they don't first end up in porn like this tard.
Got a bunch of requests on the girl's name. And in early 2000's fashion, there's more of them than quarters in a football game. She's Michaelle aka Michelle aka Vanessa aka Victoria aka Viktoria and after [11 scenes] she hightailed it away from the BBC payroll.
Anybody have the technical name for this phenomenon? or a real explanation? Specifically one that doesn't involve voodoo dolls, Penn & Teller or Planet Wing's suicide sauce. I want answers.
Prozac-deficient e-girls are a welcomed sight here at eFukt... but this post isn't about the daddy issues. It's about intensity. These temper tantrums cut deeper than a Twitter feed, and while that might not be saying much, I'm confident you'll be impressed.
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.
