For centuries many will wonder - how did he do it? How did one man fit an entire basketball into his anus? Vigorous week-long training sessions? Nah. Optical illusion? Nope. Homosexual superpowers that transform one's rectum into a 4th dimension gateway? I suspect so.
My gut instinct tells me the era of slasher movies is dead when the practical effects guys start taking on jobs like this. The Friday the 13th reboot was bad. Cult of Chucky sucked. The new Halloween might work... but nothing can prepare you for this alternate ending to Fire in the Sky.
Not since ejaculating to Samuel L Jackson's death scene in Deep Blue Sea have I felt this much cinematographic remorse. They just let his wonder worm flap around without even an attempt at Photoshop. Five more leading roles like this and she'll be ready for Paul Anderson.
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.
This is actually a pretty accurate title, so brace your dicks 'cause you are about to meet a one hundred and ten pound girl with a fuck hole like a wind tunnel.
Is this still considered pornography? Or something that gets submitted to a performative art school as a final project? Because if you're waxin carrot to shit like this, it might be is definitely time for intervention.
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.
Two things you should definitely abandon before agreeing to have sex with total strangers: Self-respect and Beef-a-roni. One of these is more important than the other, and I'm just gonna let you figure out what order they should be in.
