I don't think that title and/or thumb truly convey the crossover that's about to happen here. But if it costs $50,000 to get an 8 pack of Oscar Mayer's uncured wieners into a female's dung funnel, then life is no longer worth living. Inflation did this.
A proud self-identified "throat goat" with self-destructive blowjob skills attempts total sexual suicide via co-stars penis. I like this bitch, she's fucking crazy.
You've heard that click-farming observation before. But it's never been so accurate after seeing 5 consecutive minutes of the world's most undesirable creatures run wild in their natural habitat. If anything at all proving that Valtrex should be a public company. [MORE]
If anything at all, you should be digging the distance some people will go just for the sake of being different. That's what porn is really missing: A relatable leading actress that's been kicked out of a WWE catering truck. Twice.
"France has neither winter nor summer nor morals and has usually been governed by prostitutes... apart from these drawbacks it is a fine country." - Mark Twain
Here’s another horrifying example of simp culture; The pussification of the hopeless male in the form of extracurricular CBT. What the fuck is going on here? Ogling strange women at the tune of a months worth of paychecks used to be a respectable form of entertainment. Now? Its just another girl boss moment.
We as humans are at the fuckin' highest point of civilization we've ever achieved. Our technology is more advanced than ever before in history and recently, we put a dildo in orbit... Welcome to the new age.
This is all but guaranteed to exterminate any story you've been led to believe that everyone in the webcam community is living life on easy mode. Snap back to reality with 5 disasters even FEMA won't pick up your phone calls for.
Sickening. Abhorrent. And honestly? Offensive. Now that we're done reviewing the second season of The Last Of Us, we can watch this. Emmy nominations across the board.
The lore actually goes deeper than you could have ever imagined. It's not about the volume of anonymous vagabond cocks. It's not about the money. It's about sending a [fucking] message.
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.
