I'm getting the impression the lady at the 1:04 mark is no stranger to shotgunning a couple servings of Butthole du Jour after a succulent Chinese meal. But flip a camera on and the nerves clap her trap faster than a the DM's from a Discord moderator. More HERE.
Today we go on a spirited journey to a time forgotten; Behind the scenes of your average 2004 porn shoot. Special shoutout to Julian for being a role model during my college years. That man's lust for turning fallopian tubes into tier-3 tuna casserole should have earned the Martha Stewart seal of approval.
This might eradicate any train-running fantasies you might have once had. But it will also peak your curiosity as to how Danny Glover spends a Saturday night with friends. It's what us Internet folk call a video that's perfectly balanced, as all things should be.
Not since walking into a waffle house at 2:00AM have I seen such disrespect for the lower half of indigenous females. And just like the riot that ended that night, these alphas have no intent of letting $39.00 worth of plastic surgery go to waste.
I don't know what rally that last girl ditched to shoot this scene, but her hygiene makes about as much sense as the 43,000 volts she pretends are running through her labia every time a guy named Ranjeete slaps down 50 Rupees on her "PubLiC cUmShOWs" ala Chaturbate.
After seeing so many of these situations, sometimes I find myself asking; "Surely this is a planted setup?" I simply refuse to believe anomalies this brazen would be shown less audible disgust than someone being told the McFlurry machine is broken when they get noticed.
Another vigorous pairing of perverted miscreants that would be better suited opening at the Gathering of the Juggalos instead of having freedom of choice in a semi-coherent society.
Hiking trails? Elevators? Nursing homes? That's right, all of your most unassuming entertainment venues come at a hidden cost. Just a non-related tip of the day: Steer clear from any dipping sauces that have the word tangy in the name near closing time. Trust me.
A five minute crash-course on how to squeeze every moment out of your favorite side piece, as illustrated by the shameless, the morally-deprived, and the defenders of all things Insane Clown Posse. It's priceless information really. Trust me on this one.
Notorious shake shack enthusiast decides to document one of his many attacks on titan. He sabotages his own rubbers, fakes empathy and could give less than a shit about divorce papers. This could only end one way.
It's almost like as time passes, society has less than a fuck to give about where they burn the midnight salami. Reminds me of the time I was almost caught defecating in a Blockbuster return box in protest to late fees accumulated on Surf Ninjas. [my balance remains due]
A special service bulletin for the female viewer(s). Next time you feel like exposing your rotten tator tot to the general public, read a couple chapters of Everything I Know About Women I Learned From My Tractor by Roger Welsch first. Maybe you'll find what's missing in your life.
