On a dark night in some soviet shithole, crazy old man Vlad drank on his medication, put his birthday suit on and now he ain't taking no shit from no stupid Volvos giving him any crap.
There's a very thin [blood]line between what's acceptable and what isn't in the world of semi-professionally produced porn. I'm not telling you I know where that line is. But I do know Fujisan Ned Flanders just fucking diddly doodly crossed it.
Who the fuck comes up with these hybrid fetish flicks? Next time you producers want to get creative, how about coating a machete in Zoloft and fucking Logan Paul up the cornholio until he's smiling like Matt Damon on the cover of Good Will Hunting? Google it.
The lore actually goes deeper than you could have ever imagined. It's not about the volume of anonymous vagabond cocks. It's not about the money. It's about sending a [fucking] message.
Leaking classified information? Mumbling incoherent rants about setting third world countries on fire? Shit, even International Dick Cricket Infestation would have appeared on my list sooner than 1 Tinder gremlin subjecting herself to 31 separate 8-man gangbangs in the fucking barracks. Yet... here we are.
Browse the catalogue of Day-1 pornstars long enough and you're sure to end up finding women that treat getting hit with a couple of snowballs is akin to being put in front of a North Korean firing squad. And today my friends, there is no exception. More here.
I can't imagine what life decisions lead to your obituary being littered with the words "twerking" and "public nuisance" and "30,000 volts". But I'm betting it involves the neighbor's parakeet, and all 16 delicious flavors of Rice-a-Roni. (fuck you Rice Pilaf)
Turns out there's literally no shortage in people that consider the piss-soaked alley underneath an active freeway a 5-star romantic experience. So, don't consider today's episode an attack. More like, a celebration of the open-minded. And AIDS.
Pigs flying, A Manson Family Hanukkah special and clean underwear after all-you-can-eat Chinese food. These are all things I expected to see long before a man that has mastered the art of hands-free ejacs. Next time do it into the palm of a guy named Carlos. It's called the Puerto Rican Panhandle, I invented it.
It's too bad they don't do returns or exchanges, because these tits look like fuckin' grocery bags with cabbages in them. UGH...would totes still smash, but shit them titties fucked up yo!
