Today is my old man yells at cloud moment as I inform you that a two foot garden gnome being yoinked out of a woman's lower digestive system makes me feel like the golden age of adult entertainment is long behind us. They truly just don't make them like they used to. It's over.
Any college girl can pull off a DP, but to pull off near mythical feats of penetration you need a chick that's on a whole other level of promiscuous. Take Malibu Barbie over here, she can't even tell how many cocks are in her at any given time.
Like spending the entire 2 hours and 28 minutes in front of Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga, these women have found a taste they'll never be able to get out of their mouths. No refunds. All reflexes. Perhaps another hobby would better suit their needs? Like professional Marmite taster (look it up), or Human Scarecrow (don't look that up) for example.
Nothing quite spells EFUKT like a supposed 'Navy Seal' turned male pornstar challenging 80+ CSUN students to a backyard brawl, whilst completely naked and armed with nothing but a slowly deflating boner. HAHA.
Perhaps this can be classified as "small wiener compensation". It happens when homebois packing less meat than a vegetarian BBQ get discouraged by their girl's complete lack of excitement. Building a device that scalps your crotch is optional. Oh... you'll see.
She escaped communist China in search of a better life. Only to find herself in a Detroit warehouse angrily jerking off dudes and giving unhappy endings.
The pharyngeal reflex AKA laryngeal spasm AKA gag reflex exists to prevent us from dying, but it also makes it much harder to shove dicks down our throats.
She just turned eighteen two months ago and got into porn as soon as possible. She never thought this would happen but luckily her co-star has some comforting words for her.
It's mind over colon in the world of extreme anal porn and this busted bitch is a friggin' jedi master. Years of determination, training and butt hole abuse were all worth it to make this magical feat of beauty possible.
He came packing a mullet, social-awkwardness and the bodytype/skintone of a marsh mellow with prescription glasses. But that day back in 1998, he was a God for 10 minutes at a gentleman's club in Arkansas.
The Spider-man of rope slinging is back and setting records Guinness refuses to recognize for some reason. Something about prosthetic nutsacs and bannable material. Well... he's legit and I have the research to prove it. [PART I]
