Today is my old man yells at cloud moment as I inform you that a two foot garden gnome being yoinked out of a woman's lower digestive system makes me feel like the golden age of adult entertainment is long behind us. They truly just don't make them like they used to. It's over.
And by experience, I mean one man blowing up his beer money on the kind of sexual endeavor that would shell shock a Vietnam war veteran. Speaking of blowing up: The only thing missing from that slaughter house between her legs is someone in the background screaming wUrLstAr and Floyd Mayweather coming out of retirement to fight it.
The time has come for the followup of a story that will be told in the Internet history books. So strap in and prepare to have your yamaka blown the fuck off, cause we're going on a trip that involves domestic abuse, race rage white supremacy and about 937 reasons not to get married. [Part 1]
He came packing a mullet, social-awkwardness and the body type/skin tone of a marsh mellow with prescription glasses. But that day back in 1998, he was a hero for 10 minutes at a gentleman's club in Arkansas.
Don't let the plot line(s) fool you. This goofball's bloodline persona is about as real as KFC's employee hand-washing policy. Such as illustrated after her 'brothers' attempt at fucking the hippie out of her. Possibly produced by the Coen brothers.
See that rush of fear around the 3:00 mark? That's the kind of reaction second only to a man that has miscalculated his maximum capacity for P.F. Changs Orange Chicken in a public venue. And I think that's something we can all relate to. L, OH, fuckin L
You know the deal: It's the height of the pandemic and funds are circling the drain. So you hit up the local videographers and offer your services to the highest bidder. I_CUM_HELLMANS hits up your DM's on Reddit and now the smell never washes off. GG NO RE
Amazonian domination, severe rectal irrigation tutorials and we finish strong with the 99th reason to always leave classic movies in their original form. More here: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]
An aryan idol sexually trolls the hotel bell hop in order to win a "contest" that may or may not even exist. Regardless, Michael Cera is here to help. Although I'm not entirely convinced he's ever done this before.
You know you're in the golden age of porn when someone consults Michael Bay for their scene. Too bad the novelty of implied homicide wears off pretty quick when you have to multitask cumshots with Die Hard 1.
Poor prosti gets sandbagged by a local gentleman who's only sexual experience involves Walmart's checkout line & Colt 45. But apparently her dugout is built for the major leagues, cause despite his John McLane ingenuity... she still walks away with a smile. Fucking amazing.
