A hilarious short story about the prettiest ogre girl from the little village of Mordor... She was looking for her big break but instead she was left with only $250, a butt load of pain and a mouth full of grossness. Me gusta?
The first 60 seconds of this contains a cluster of words that have absolutely no business being chained together in that order. In fact, in my native language just about every single thing out of her talking hole would be considered a grievance offense. (i speak english)
Getting your meat bag blown out within shouting distance of a stranger's apartment is a bold move. One of superiority tbh. Nancy and her 19 cats will think twice about filing a noise complaint when this lands in her inbox.
Our boy is having domicile problems of the synthetic drug variety, and it's fucking up his after-work Roblox clan war. The charges? Breaking and entering, aggravated harassment, disorderly conduct and skidmarking Target's finest bedroom linen. Tensions rise, police are called, I laugh. Pretty funny shit.
This girl is ridiculously cute. I want to hold her hand. I want to smell her hair. I want a 3x5 inch cut-out of the computer chair fabric that was blessed with her vaginal discharge. Until then, this gem will have to do.
Some women need a good meal and a text goodnight to reach their sexual peak. Others; a couple finger loops around the ole pastrami butterfly. And then there's [Vai] who will stop at nothing less than the full power of Optimus Prime to activate her O-face.
You know that feeling: When it's 0600 hours, the sun is shining, and you find yourself 4-inches deep inside the only girl that believed your story about using the same plumber as Zac Efron. In other words: Perfection. That is, unless Lucya "The Wolverine" Chernyshevsky is leader of the neighborhood watch.
Dead men rise from grave to start fuck by any means. Can YOU stop zombie? Watch whole porn movie clip before decide. WARNING gunshots and cumshots with Zomb13. Watch @ own sufferings.
Not exactly the most unexpected chain of events from a class of people that come less prepared for war than whoevers handicap stall I invaded at Waffle House last week. Sorry Wheels, but the bucket in the janitor's closet simply doesn't meet my capacity standard.
