An emphasis on cardiovascular workouts and having better grip than David Tyree in the 2008 Superbowl simply wasn't enough to beat the power of experience. Pornographic material that incentivizes you to get educated really is an untapped market. Someone look into that.
Everybody has a gift. For some, it's convincing solid 4's to double up on their bald headed field mice while simultaneously solving a sudoku. For others, it's knitting. But that last girl? Whoever is writing the next Final Destination movie better start taking some fucking notes.
Over the course of 15 years, I've tried saving the word epic for oddities that truly work for the definition. And let me tell you friends: If an emotional beat down of a daddy-issued ketamine-lifer doesn't earn it, the 4-inch race-rampage in the final act will lol.
Space station sized cock. Peanut of a butthole. Yeah, we've seen this story before but the language barrier almost turns this one into a homicide. Moral of the story: Always identify your opponent before agreeing to fight them. I'm talking to you, Jake Paul victims.
At this point I'm not even questioning human behavior. The only thing separating all of us from being narrated by David Attenborough, are complicated sneakers and semi-automatic weapons. Turns out the Internet may have been a mistake after all. Parts: [1] [2] [3]
In today's episode of Things You Shouldn't Cram Up Your Asshole, we're being educated by a trio of goofys who had no backup plan when their gargantuan sex toy decided to swim into deeper waters. Dude's first response? "I'm gonna fuck it while it's in there". Pure poetry. [more here]
AKA "The Ted Bundy Sex Doll Treatment". She was carefully sculpted by the loving hands of a master craftsmen. Made to be life like, made to look real, made for your loser uncle to fornicate with. Made to be destroyed. SAUCE.
Another posse of preoccupied partially sentient protagonists wondering if they could but never questioning if they should. These things would have never happened if they just gave Jeff Goldblum the Oscar.
Nothing here but people willing to be treated like the bed liner of Ford F-150 with 8 digits on the clock. Some even goes as far as to request moar dick. Complimentary forewarning: Any further into those monkey biscuits & this will technically be classified as a medical procedure.
Willing humiliation and receiving more hits than one of those bullshit primitive building channels. No, it's not Connor's return to the octagon. But it's still gonna cost you $79.99 if her 1st name has a hyphen in it.
