Flat-chested girls everywhere rejoice because there's worse things in life than having no tits. You could have weird tits and add implants, leaving you with gigantic weird sideshow tits. And back problems.
Dude looks like he walked into a tattoo parlor and said "yes". Luckily he's hung like a brontosaurus to round out these constructive life decisions. Not sure I was expecting that twist at the end though. Kinda reinforcing the whole don't judge a book by it's cover thing, aren't we?
Sickening. Abhorrent. And honestly? Offensive. Now that we're done reviewing the second season of The Last Of Us, we can watch this. Emmy nominations across the board.
3:40 is today's highlight. The fact that this behavior generates sustainable income blows my mind. Imagine taking one of those suburban mass shooter interrogation videos and crossbreeding it with Pepto Bismol. Then masturbate with steel wool cause that's the pain I feel watching.
There's a lot to digest here. But nothing is as concerning as whatever rodeo clown, double-wide uncle sister bullshit is going on around the 3:11 mark. Axe body wash isn't going to clean this feeling off me tonight. Time to dip into the disaster emergency kit.
I'm no expert, but we may be reaching ultra critical levels of unforgivable shamelessness here. Or as the Italians used to call it; "Exterminus Adversus Slutterdominous". Now call your parents and tell them what you learned today.
Nice face. Amazing body. It's the the choice in coworkers where she starts to lose me. To each their own, but personally I would prefer my sexual fantasies to have as little to do with osteoporosis as humanly possible. Bonus lulz at the [3:28] mark when our boy almost checks out mid-nutshot.
idk, seems pretty predictable to me. Once the enchantment of a $200 payday and living their monthly YOLO moments has worn off, anxiety and regret should be expected. But shoutouts to wish.com for making these precious memories possible.
A rousing assembly of women that don't believe teh night is over until their clout levels have reached unmeasurable proportions. Reminiscent of a reoccurring dream I keep having involving Brock Lesnar and Long John Silver’s Cocktail Sauce.
Somewhere in the next 4 minutes you may ask yourself: What the fuck led to the creation of this? Amphetamines? Mental illness? An unhealthy addiction to masturbating with a Vitamix Explorian [2:20 mark] I don't know but... another sequel is most definitely in the works. [-PART 1-]
