What the fuck happened to April O'neil? It seems a few years ago she entered into some sort of porn studio residency and is being forced to churn out horrendous shit like this at gun point. Today's flavor? One of the few Fortnite players that doesn't have body odor reminiscent of Regal popcorn butter". POGGERS IN CHAT ༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ
Yeah uh... so is this what studio porn has evolved into? Because if I've lived to the point where people are actually spending money on producing cleverly disguised Cialis commercials we may have finally reached the bottom...
I was gonna tag one girl as "Funky Town" to see how many newcomers Google themselves right off the Internet, but I choose a more honorably path. So what did we end up learning today? Sharp objects and SNES soundtracks work extremely well together. That's what. Support cyclo-boob [HERE]
Notorious shake shack enthusiast decides to document one of his many attacks on titan. He sabotages his own rubbers, fakes empathy and could give less than a shit about divorce papers. This could only end one way.
Somebody in the original comments was yappin about no proof this is his first time. My main man; 3 seconds of glazing over this specimen's choice in facial hair, vocabulary and thinking CPR is a form a cunnilingus says otherwise. Peep another awkward rookie [here].
Straight out of a Discord moderator's direct messages, these fractured creatures have found themselves between cringe and cold hard cash. I'm talking a cool $0 payout to do this shit. Not even enough get drugs strong enough to hallucinate back to 2008 when Dashboard Confessional's asshole was relevant.
Local vagrant takes us on a journey that blurs the line between southern cooking and female independence, as illustrated by a sex act that's led to more infections than a Marilyn Manson concert. Never before has adult entertainment made me prouder of my KFC rewards points.
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.
Not since ejaculating to Samuel L Jackson's death scene in Deep Blue Sea have I felt this much cinematographic remorse. They just let his wonder worm flap around without even an attempt at Photoshop. Five more leading roles like this and she'll be ready for Paul Anderson.
