Skig tag? Tumor? Krang from TMNT? Fuck if I know, but whatever it is... it totally rubbed up against the other dudes thigh at the 1.38 mark, causing a half chewed Bagel Bite to be ejected from my mouth and on to my Where's Waldo themed keyboard.
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.
In the bowels of Brazil a.k.a. the other other Mexico, a local stripper gives a drunk and weary traveler an experience he'll never forget... if he can remember. He goes home with a dildo souvenir so he'll definitely know something went down that night. #YOLO
It's not even the fact that these fetishes exist. It's that some of these creaturas are banking a yearly salary after swimming through an Arby's dumpster for 3 minutes so Jungle Jack in Frogdick Mississippi can have beat off material for the week. We might not be in end times. But intermission was a long time ago.
Round #2 in a series that showcases the authentic side of some of our most interesting citizens. I'm not exactly sure what life choices have to be made to end up here, but it probably has something to do with blue checkmarks and whatever they put in those Impossible burgers.
From the bowels of world star hip hop comes a little gem that's straight outta Compton! Staring a wild wildebeest that has been caught fellating a local hoodlum in the middle of the street. Some real ratchet shit yo!
Of all the ways to absolutely starch what's left of your testosterone, scarfing down Milli Vanilli's splash damage was the last fucking thing I had my bingus card. Watching a stranger crack your s/o's purple turkey just doesn't make sense to me. Then again, anytime someone makes middle aged women squeal like a 2 for 1 HomeGoods sale, eyebrows are raised.
She escaped communist China in search of a better life. Only to find herself in a Detroit warehouse angrily jerking off dudes and giving unhappy endings.
Tip of the Day: Allowing any part of your body to find it's way in between a fully-enraged Tory Lane and a device that was designed to un-crust last night's Pinto Bean Soufflé isn't a constructive use of your time. You stand about as much chance of going home unscathed as a WSB does being profitable.
