I haven't seen such misogynistic greatness since "He Hates Hookers" with the late Douglas DeMann. I dunno. There's just something infinitely amusing about women being repeatedly verbally degraded by trailer trash king pimps.
Not old enough to leave Food Lion with a 6-pack of Bud Light, but she's already carrying a body count that would make a frat house blush? You'd think by the semi-centennial cock that went 1v1 with DM-TrainTrackFace she would've learned to fertilize the backyard. But... nope.
To find a man truly worthy of this title we must dig deep into the early days of internet pornography. A time when potato quality was top notch and only took 2 hours to download.
This girl has an emotional breakdown immediately following a facial. I initially assumed the obvious - dude must love his jumbo asparagus. But upon a 2nd viewing, I spotted a wedding band on the left hand. This is the part where I'm supposed to call her a whore. Personally, I'd rather just comfort her and smell her butt. I'm romantic like that.
Never before have I seen men do something so disrespectful with such finesse. Where there's shame, they show confidence. Where there's shock, they bring warmth. And where there's romance, well... they really don't give a flying fuck.
Some will click this and see a beautiful human being. Others will acid bath their routers & set themselves on fire knowing they've achieved less vaginal supremacy than a guy commonly mistaken for memory foam. Choose your own destiny.
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.
Apparently Clayton Bigsby has an extended bloodline we were completely unaware of. Practice what you're about to see here & I promise - those pesky NPC'S will never scream "racism" again.
Check her twat at the 1.55 mark. After no more than 15 seconds of diddling her clit, shit becomes the Niagra Falls of vaginal discharge. Camera dude says it's cum. I have 5 bucks and case of diet Mr. Pibb that says it's forgotten creampie from yesteryear.
Not exactly the most unexpected chain of events from a class of people that come less prepared for war than whoevers handicap stall I invaded at Waffle House last week. Sorry Wheels, but the bucket in the janitor's closet simply doesn't meet my capacity standard.
You know that feeling: When it's 0600 hours, the sun is shining, and you find yourself 4-inches deep inside the only girl that believed your story about using the same plumber as Zac Efron. In other words: Perfection. That is, unless Lucya "The Wolverine" Chernyshevsky is leader of the neighborhood watch.
