Some "feels" I am glad I will never experience in life. Driving the speed limit, menstrual cramps, bamboo fingernail torture, or when a unlubed and unwelcome penis randomly kicks open the door to the house of pain.
I don't know what rally that last girl ditched to shoot this scene, but her hygiene makes about as much sense as the 43,000 volts she pretends are running through her labia every time a guy named Ranjeete slaps down 50 Rupees on her "PubLiC cUmShOWs" ala Chaturbate.
The legend with gigantic, fake wonky tits does her first porn shoot ever and she's about to learn pornography isn't all smiles and blowjobs. Nope. Sometimes it's about butt-plugs and pain.
Another chapter closed in a book that Barnes & Noble insists on displaying in the Sci-Fi section. Normally read in the dimly lit corner of a trailer park that doesn't show up on Google maps, surrounded by Newports and half-eaten cans of Costco's finest meatball ravioli.
Only 30% of these genetic anomalies come from Japan. The rest? Homegrown in the ole' U S of A. They could be your neighbors, your mailmen, even the friend you pay in Wendy's frosty coupons to perform the pittsburgh coal miner. Either way, they are among us.
Everything in life has a proper explanation if you open your mind. Except the homie trying to scrub daddy his dirty walnut on a Tuesday afternoon in broad daylight around the 1:45 mark. NORAD will hear about this.
An all-minority female cast ultimately leading to me losing faith in life itself? You can go ahead and file this under The 2016 Ghostbusters Reboot of Porn. And Bill Murray can't save you this time.
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.
What happens when a [rookie] with 2 months of experience attempts to power through a fetish shoot? Smiles fade. Excitement disappears. But the cattle prod PTSD? That goes deeper than Goldberg losing the world title to Kevin Nash on December 27, 1998 at Starrcade.
He came packing a mullet, social-awkwardness and the body type/skin tone of a marsh mellow with prescription glasses. But that day back in 1998, he was a hero for 10 minutes at a gentleman's club in Arkansas.
