Perhaps 'audible' is the wrong word to use here, as it suggests this misfit anticipated the scene going any other possible way. She didn't. Trust me. I've been inside a Walmart parking lot on a Friday night - I know what I'm talking about.
The pharyngeal reflex AKA laryngeal spasm AKA gag reflex exists to prevent us from dying, but it also makes it much harder to shove dicks down our throats.
You ever show up for the orgy but just jerk off by yourself? Or have you ever managed to be cringier than a wannabe white rapper with a pick in his ginger afro? Yea... me either. YAY!
Everybody has a gift. For some, it's convincing solid 4's to double up on their bald headed field mice while simultaneously solving a sudoku. For others, it's knitting. But that last girl? Whoever is writing the next Final Destination movie better start taking some fucking notes.
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.
Around the 1:50 mark she denies a handful of the colonel's secret recipe. Uh uh. If that's her idea of cutting back on carbs, I'd love to know how she celebrates Thanksgiving. But the real question is: How many 2-for-1 Golden Corral coupons does it take to make this transaction possible?
Zero evidence of her chromosome count, but judging by this performance it's safe to say we're working with a surplus here. Not exactly a stark contrast for this website, but next time I want a female performance to leave me softer than a bowl of cotton candy I'll just turn on Impact Wrestling.
Another chapter closed in a book that Barnes & Noble insists on displaying in the Sci-Fi section. Normally read in the dimly lit corner of a trailer park that doesn't show up on Google maps, surrounded by Newports and half-eaten cans of Costco's finest meatball ravioli.
Leaking classified information? Mumbling incoherent rants about setting third world countries on fire? Shit, even International Dick Cricket Infestation would have appeared on my list sooner than 1 Tinder gremlin subjecting herself to 31 separate 8-man gangbangs in the fucking barracks. Yet... here we are.
Consider this an open letter to the content creators out there: I will donate the $13.75 I made trading Krypto Kittys with down syndrome to a charity of your choosing, in exchange for promising to never use condiments on your wiener ever again. The balls are in your courts.
