My gut tells me the chances of a normal human being attempting this is right up there with Joy Behar being medicated during business hours. But I do find the authentic pleasure she has when making foot-to-vulva contact kind of endearing.
The "Pepe le Pew" of porn finds out his costar is half an X-men with titanium rods installed on her spin. Woodman's response? An absolute fucking hurricane of verbal and physical assaulting that would make Chris Brown look like Charlie Brown lol.
I've seen some detestable shit during my tenure on the Internet. Hungarian equine mating rituals. 3 minutes of Concord gameplay footage. People thinking a P.T. Cruiser has resale value. But this? This confirmed the whole human race experiment failed.
Between the carnivorous instructions that might actually devolve human beings and whatever the fuck ancient language was trying to leak out of the guy in the last clip, I think it's safe to say we have some form of a predicament in our education system.
It's pretty unbelievable what kind of deals still exist if you're willing to put in the work and find them. No need to negotiate on price either. Just lay down your $27USD and let the all you can eat vaginitis begin.
A solid plot line can make up for just about anything: Bad acting, low budgets, the marionette scene in Terrifier 2. But this assortment of genetic defects? They've got digital footprints like Tom Cruise has regressive Aspergers, and I don't know when this fucking ride is gonna end.
Alright fellas, [-take a memo on your Newton-]: If girls aren't flocking to your Levi's like 1 star reviews to the newest Disney remake, then this might be in your future. Just keep track of those subscription fees so reality doesn't hit harder than 1996 did to Robert Downey Jr.
You know you had fun when the next day you wake up with a concussion and realize you not only left your phone, but you also forgot your clothes, underwear, sunglasses and self-respect at the club.
I gotta say; supreme vag on the redhead. Haven't seen a pair of lips that impressive since the time I got caught with a VHS rip of Fast Times at Ridgemont High and the last jar of Smuckers Sweet Orange Marmalade. Mother's Day hasn't been the same since.
