I like her face. I like her enthusiasm. But above all I like her devotion to commitment. Her borderline absent reaction to an explosive device detonating inside her spincther however, has reinforced my stance on late-term abortions. Like, 35 years late. Toss a token in the abyss via the source link.
If there's one thing that never fails to get me questioning the future of this whole human race experiment; it's what the most unassuming person will consider a sexual accessory. So here's about 6 of them. That's right, six. As in the number of times I replayed the noise that Pringles can made when ricocheting off her head.
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.
Pigs flying, A Manson Family Hanukkah special and clean underwear after all-you-can-eat Chinese food. These are all things I expected to see long before a man that has mastered the art of hands-free ejacs. Next time do it into the palm of a guy named Carlos. It's called the Puerto Rican Panhandle, I invented it.
A pair of seasoned rectal specialists agree to shoot a scene with a girl less experienced in butt fuckery than an Amish housewife. Points for trying to stick it out until the end, but let me tell you; It's all fun and games until Fransisco & Co. are face-to-ass with last night's carne asada.
Luna Bella. Maybe you've already heard of her? She's no Alexis Ren. But what she's lacking in personality, genetics and decency, she makes up for in... well, nothing actually. Her tits look like they were bolted on by a blind intern at Lego Land, and I don't know whether to run or rim.
If you thought we were going to make it through 3 volumes of woman decorating their reproductive systems with everything that isn't bolted down at Home Goods, and not get a single appearance by the only pornstar that could land a Dyson sponsorship; you thought wrong. And quite frankly, I'm a little disappointed. Also RIP Rowdy Piper.
The downside to treating your asshole as a source of income? Every time you get done colonizing the dark planet, somebody comes along and insists on outdoing you. I'm talking the kind of miscreant that would mount a Brontosaurus if it meant doubling her OnlyFans subs (4:25 mark). [DISCUSS HERE]
It truly never ends. Let's just label this one the Shawshank Redemption of "wtf, your load tastes like Alan Greenspan's deceased asshole" Alan probably isn't actually dead, but I trust that the implied mental image is still effective. Game on.
Nope. Not even giving the participation trophy to the self-sustaining personal human centipede butthole hydration conveyor belt device being demonstrated at the 2:30 mark. It may have made the cut for this compilation... but at what cost?
There's just no hiding from your past once you pull the trigger on something like this. Their Ross Store wardrobes will be forever stained. The regret can't be washed off. And the $27 paycheck isn't enough to drink the memories away. #crankthattherapist
Irrationally sized flobberweavels, a urethra that's suffered more abuse than whoever the fuck bought Barstool for $500 mil and the recreation of a classic in glorious high(er) definition. Don't think of this as the balanced breakfast you need, think of it as the one you deserve.
