Someone somewhere thought it would be really great to make a 70 minute porn film set in the Victorian era about a guy with a dick for a nose. Today we honor men like that and the amazing master-pieces of shit they produce.
Prozac-deficient e-girls are a welcomed sight here at eFukt... but this post isn't about the daddy issues. It's about intensity. These temper tantrums cut deeper than a Twitter feed, and while that might not be saying much, I'm confident you'll be impressed.
Layin' pipe only has a few rules: 1) Look as little like Harvey Weinstein as possible 2) develop stamina and 3) maintain an erection harder than a bowl of Campbell's tomato soup. Not exactly a difficult list... but this Khokhol is determined to challenge at least 2 key items today. GG NO RE
Buried in snippets among hours of gang bang porn is a story. The story of a shy 18 year old curiously browsing a porn store, then slowly mutating over a period of few short weeks. Amazing.
Honestly this one could have rolled credits right after Donatello got his tits greased with tomato sauce and you'd still have an unwanted memory to try eradicating for the foreseeable future. But where's the fun in that?
Not since the 2005 release of 1 Night In Chyna have I seen a woman with such a fucked up misunderstanding of eroticism. She grunts like pirate, pisses all over the place, and has a finishing act that'll assfuck your brain cells.
Hey, no one said you had to like it Natalie Portman. Just lean forward, keep a tight grip on those communal wieners and think about all the Baconators you'll be able to purchase at the end of the week. That's what keeps me going. Her first appearance HERE.
Turns out there's absolutely no shortage of individuals that consider teaching their penis the macarena a societal norm. A Superb technique no doubt, but probably not for beginners. Chances are you'll misjudge one 360 no-scope and catch a local in the crossfire. It's called "The Ben Roethlisberger" and it'll make you wish you kept the half boners at home.
I can't imagine what life decisions lead to your obituary being littered with the words "twerking" and "public nuisance" and "30,000 volts". But I'm betting it involves the neighbor's parakeet, and all 16 delicious flavors of Rice-a-Roni. (fuck you Rice Pilaf)
