Not only did this happen live, but she nailed the mythic trifecta: Dry-docked a Russian without a gun to her head, hit the sour cream & onion griddy & did it all with her BF 20 feet away. It's not every day we find girls worthy of an all-expenses paid trip to Red Robin... but she's here.
What happens when you let your BBC-obsessed husband talk you into the kind of Smackdown WWE would be jealous of? Here's a hint: You end up booking a legendary Iron Man match, but there's no winner.
Around the 1:50 mark she denies a handful of the colonel's secret recipe. Uh uh. If that's her idea of cutting back on carbs, I'd love to know how she celebrates Thanksgiving. But the real question is: How many 2-for-1 Golden Corral coupons does it take to make this transaction possible?
Time to get acquainted with another horde of beatniks that have managed to monetize the kind of performances that once only existed behind the locked doors of a Berlin basement. Big points for that Mitzuwana breakdancing at the 6:12 mark though. Should have taken home Paris gold. More: [-1-] [-2-] [-3-] [-4-] [-5-] [-6-] [-7-] [-8-] [-9-]
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.
Never have I seen a man do something so incredibly vile with such charm. Where there's tension, he provides laughter. Where there's pain, he provides comfort. And where there's feces on the tip of his penis... he provides dinner.
My first pay-to-play happened in a Burger King toilet stall. She was more Kurt Perry than Katy Perry, Kinda foul. Not even a triple replay of Heather Graham's bush in Boogie Nights changed the mood that night. But... if I had this guy's attitude? Life... life would be different.
Great box. Decent tits. But fall into whatever wet dream they paid her $47.00 to roleplay in here and you'll be left with a ball bag more shriveled than Iggy Pop. It's a sexual combination that doesn't seem to concern these freaks. Big Cringe = Big Dollas. And Big Dollas = Unlimited Crest White Strips. You'll see.
Imagine reaching a point in your life where fantasies just aren't doing it for you anymore, so you unleash an even deeper mental illness and create some sort of hybrid, cabbage patch fuck dance home videos and think not hiding your identity is a good idea. This is that point.
