[MAKE SURE YOU WATCH PART 1 FIRST] Here it is. A live demonstration of what may be the very first evidence that sexually transmitted diseases are a conspiracy. Freddie Mercury: I'm going to get you the justice you deserve.
What happens when modern technology moves too quickly for humans to predict the next catastrophe? Porn. The answer is and always will be porn. Today's flavor is what might as well be an alpha version of Skynet attempting to end human population via suicidal gooning. We're fucked.
A decade's worth of restrained self-owning content? It happened. From the archives of bang bus'ing to the 360p days of MFC and everything in between; This is the nonsense they wanted shelved until the end of time.
Farted on, finger banged, told he looks like fuckin Robin Williams - this dude endures pain you can't even imagine. Fortunately he's a Sum 41 mosh pit survivor and holds a blackbelt in making Terminator-esque sound effects whilst flailing his arms like a fucking idiot, so it's all good.
Darrell spent a year talking his wife Nikki into giving swinging a shot. She finally gives in and it does not go to plan. To add insult to injury, the whole humiliating ordeal is captured forever in some shitty pseudo-documentary.
Did flashing interns at the local 7-11 becoming a challenge or something? Apparently this miscreant prefers the orifices less traveled. Specifically the ones small enough to give Tiger Woods anxiety attacks. C-L-A-S-S-Y.
2002-2004. An era of professionally produced pornography that should probably be forgotten. Not a single penetration was made, yet I feel like I've been fucked by spare tires and empty cans of Busch Light after sitting through this atrocity. The line dropped at 2:30 really makes you wonder how many Marlboro Miles these guy were paid for the scene.
Don't let the dollar store Botox and short circuiting while trying to multiply 2 numbers together fool you: This 1-wife circus act has paved a new way for women across the the globe. Such as illustrated by her conservative body count of 5-fucking-THOUSAND dicks entering her grease trap, sometimes without as much as a Summer's Breeze minge-rinse in-between victims. Make sure you watch Part 2.
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.
