If you weigh less than a garbage bag full of Charles In Charge VHS reprints, and have less use than a $5 V-Bux card, chances are you're going to end up in one of these videos. It may not sound like a useful tool to navigate life with... but then you make it to the 7:50 mark.
A decade's worth of restrained self-owning content? It happened. From the archives of bang bus'ing to the 360p days of MFC and everything in between; This is the nonsense they wanted shelved until the end of time.
Another chapter closed in a book that Barnes & Noble insists on displaying in the Sci-Fi section. Normally read in the dimly lit corner of a trailer park that doesn't show up on Google maps, surrounded by Newports and half-eaten cans of Costco's finest meatball ravioli.
This example of why you should periodically review your fiber intake, goes by the name Baby Swabery. Due to her age, I'll be approaching this description accordingly: no cap the jumbo deluxe chimmichanga lunch special was a mf'n mistake, fr the situation is NOT bussin.
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.
Take a culture that considers Rick and Morty comedy, crossbreed them with an addiction to street drugs and this is the result. a.k.a top tier pussy slaying material in the world of Joey-P. Don't agree? Leave feedback on [whatever the fuck he's selling on Amazon] and prove it.
This actually starts off as a painal vid, but much like Cuba Gooding Jr.'s acting career, that only lasts for about 14 seconds. From there on it's all pleasure, and by 'pleasure' I mean nervous system-disabling assgasms so hot even Stephen Hawking would pop wood.
Ya know for a girl that's spent this much time in tattoo parlors, you'd think a forehead big enough for UBER to charge $17 to go from nose to scalp would get a little bit more attention. Then again, something tells me rational thinking isn't one of the tenants of someone who writes "when I fuck i dont give a fuck" 6 inches away from their shitter.
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.
