She rather suck off a fuckin golden retriever than take it up the butt. No joke. They even have an in depth conversation about dog cock just prior to the cumshot finale. Nothing like a little steamy dialogue to keep your noodle hard, right?
Contrary to appearance, leading role in the 2017 cornhole apocalypse was not her specialty. Now that she's retired, you could say her talents were more wasted than season 5 of The Walking Dead. Regrets are temporary. Mike Tyson uppercutting your sphincter in the 3rd round is forever.
Another edition of "anal goes wrong", featuring the perforation of a fuckable milf's blown out colon. The city of love probably hasn't seen this much blood since someone made some cartoons last year.
Symptom #293 you need to put an end to the all-turnip and MDMA diet: You develop the sex drive of a cinder block followed by the kind of speech impediment that could end a marriage in Alabama. But rather than seek Dr. Phil's help, you do this instead.
The more inbreeding in your bloodline, the further you'll go to seek sexual satisfaction. A simple concept, officially reinforced by whatever director's cut episode of Survivor Man is going on in that last clip. I'll put it this way; in comparison it makes Jeppson's Malort seem like a fucking delicacy. It's that abhorrent.
Some women that happen to look like rejected "Lord of the Rings" characters find themselves in a cheap hotel room, making a porn movie so atrocious that even the producer wouldn't show up to film it.
AKA "How to fuck teenagers for 60% off." So a little burnout QT3.14 thought she could get some extra weed money for some anal. Only problem is she's never done anal and has no idea the hurtin' she's in for.
Today's spread: a.) Famous fucktwats trying to cope with lack of attention b.) Historical tone deaf unawareness c.) Whatever final form Madonna has decided to mutate into. In other words - Three things to make your quarantine just a little bit worse.
Not much is worse (or funnier) than an unexpected penis bashing some hoer O-ring with little forewarning or lube. Ideally, zero forewarning and zero lubes.
Just what in the fucking Doogie Howser, M.D. are we witnessing here? I'd give him the big W for going the distance... but no amount of THOT slaying in the world is going to change the unfortunate genetic make up of that boogie board he calls a body. Congrats?
You can brag about your male pattern baldness all you want homeboy. But if you're not turning all vaginas within a 3 mile distance into your own personal bowl of Hungry Jack Mashed Potatoes, are you even living the Costanza?
