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.
Admittedly these are all pretty standard 'i drank 2 entire Coronas on spring break and had sex with a house plant' plot lines... but dude in the last clip has some explaining to do. Like, this is why I have to wear diapers at 27-years-old kind of explaining.
Don't let the confidence in her voice fool you: This cholita's ability to withstand pain is about as real as her soggy pancakes in a pushup bra. As illustrated by his first, second and 17th attempt to keep a decent rhythm in her poo canoe. The end result? Well... you'll see.
Anybody have the technical name for this phenomenon? or a real explanation? Specifically one that doesn't involve voodoo dolls, Penn & Teller or Planet Wing's suicide sauce. I want answers.
That feeling when you realize a backdoor studio in Japan with a $300 makeup budget is closer to the source material of the Resident Evil games than any official movie and whatever the fuck crawled out of Netflix headquarters put together. 2 thumbs up, would Jill off into my sandwich again.
Honestly, after making it to the end of this $27.00 budgeted shit show I'm inclined to believe the historical artifact should have stayed forgotten. The full version is over an hour long and makes The Blair Witch Project look like it's part of the Scorsese catalog. I do not recommend.
A happily married couple is currently pushing the boundaries of amateur porn. They're both jizz fanatics that mix their love of semen with public escapades. I wish I had a friend with a wife like this.
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.
