Say hello to your new idol. He's a recent graduate from the WWE school of acting for the mentally challenged and still manages to pull more suburban MILF poon then a 4-starred gynecologist on YELP. This particular desperate housewife is a prime example of why you should always FYD.
Another edition featuring triflin' ass hoes, hood rats of all kinds and a singing crack head with erectile problems. They call him Uncle Jim and he can do any unskilled miscellaneous task for the low-low.
Today, a 19-year-old works their way into college and learns shit like Trigonometry, or Sudanese Rectal Massage Theory. Others are in it for the networking. Me? I moved to skidrow and documented hobos smoking meth while performing communal rimjobs. Revolutionary at the time... but even I never witnessed the fabled "Hammer Head" seen here. GL HF
The downside of crossbreeding compassion with an industry that considers rectal depth as a measuring stick for paycheck tiers? Every dude within the city boundaries will be socializing your cornhole like it's Chinese healthcare. edit: I decided to see what Sativa was up to nowadays... and... well... I was not disappointed
Unlucky Spanish chick gets bashed in the butthole - full force, no lube! Prepare yourself. The level of agony herein is second only to Adele handcuffed to a stair-master.
First impressions are important. Unless of course your name is Kandi Baby and have access to more pharmaceuticals than Liver King. Whoever thought it was a good idea to release this pornographic lobotomy probably saw The Marvels on opening day too.
The finest collection of eardrum destroying, vomit inducing orgasms you'll wish you never saw. Emphasis on the whole wishing you never saw this shit part. One dude nuts so hXc that he actually ruptures a fucking blood vessel and spurts red. 2.15 mark. You've been warned.
"France has neither winter nor summer nor morals and has usually been governed by prostitutes... apart from these drawbacks it is a fine country." - Mark Twain
It's all giggles until you hit 5:15. My advice? Be less worried about token counts and more concerned with whatever off-road vehicle ran that thing over and fled the scene. The fuck is going on down there? And more importantly, how many Tremors movies are we up to now?
You know you had fun when the next day you wake up with a concussion and realize you not only left your phone, but you also forgot your clothes, underwear, sunglasses and self-respect at the club.
