Actually, I lied. She's nothing I'd want to fuck, nor is there legitimate contempt for her peter heater. She's raisawetsx - gifter of original content and cervical prize fighter. Moral of the story: Never underestimate a Russian's pain threshold.
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.
Brittanya Razavi channels her inner Gordon Ramsay. Kagney Linn Carter puts herself on a list. Pierre Woodman blurs the language barrier for the 900th time this year. And Amai Liu... Well... let's just say we finally have a real threat for Jake Paul. #bookit
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.
Start Door Dashing your scottish woodcocks, and fire up the Tay Tay playlist because you're about to witness the pinnacle of crossbreeding the Starship Troopers prequel we never got with a porn studio that actually has funding. Ridley Scott; Take notes.
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.
"Django the Fifth's Revenge" is the story of a self-proclaimed "black cock beast" on a mission. Notice the highly viscous load of seminal fluid dangle dancing off her chin the whole scene.
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 modernized coomer gremlin content is taking turns down roads you've never heard of, and activating parts of the brain not yet discovered. Honestly the only thing surprising here is her not wearing a Spiderman outfit. More Sofa [here]
If you think that number is talking about hog dimensions, you will be sorely mistaken. It seems this attraction has stricter height limitations than Six Flag's El Toro. You gotta measure less than 4 feet tall, well-versed in THOTology and be next in line for a fight with Jake Paul. Brutal. Part 1 [HERE] Part 2 [HERE] Support [HERE]
Of all the ways to absolutely starch what's left of your testosterone, scarfing down Milli Vanilli's splash damage was the last fucking thing I had my bingus card. Watching a stranger crack your s/o's purple turkey just doesn't make sense to me. Then again, anytime someone makes middle aged women squeal like a 2 for 1 HomeGoods sale, eyebrows are raised.
