Imagine reaching a point in your life where fantasies just aren't doing it for you anymore, so you unleash an even deeper mental illness and create some sort of hybrid, cabbage patch fuck dance home videos and think not hiding your identity is a good idea. This is that point.
You could throw a football in her asshole and hit nothing but net. She has the Mariana Trench of colons and today she's pushing the limits of pornography, breakfast, and ass sphincters all at the same time.
No, seriously don't. Every once in a while pornography life overlaps into real life lessons. Let's just be glad this learning experience was made possible without the assistance of Czechoslovakian accents, and a petting zoo.
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.
idk what these goofballs were thinking when they decided going public with these acts of treason was a good idea. Something about the return on investment seems a little fucky. Possibly a decision sponsored and brought to you by [Prime™] Energy drinks. [PART 1]
The farther below the equator you go, the crazier behavior you'll find. A novel concept, and one that's officially reinforced by the pair of donut glazers walking the streets like it's fucking fashion week. Just being an observer might give you Hep-C.
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.
If anything you should watch this for the last scene. In less than 3 minutes, this duo gave us enough character development, story twists and cliffhanger endings to last two seasons on Netflix. I will literally pay for the emergency room footage, DM me. Catch them live HERE.
Girls this determined to finish are hard to find without an Olympian background, so consider yourself lucky. Both for getting to bear witness to this unstoppable force, and for not having to be the one to explain the beef bourguignon shit stains on mom's new comforter.
