I've actually seen [this girl] before, but never getting ragdolled like Jeff Bezo's disposable income. Maybe when she's done finding herself, she can sign up for a safer hobby. Like glassblowing. Or teaching mountain lions yoga, for example.
I've sat through 8 billion brother fucker storylines, the desecration of an icon and whatever the fuck this is. That being said, it's comforting to know I can still find astonishment in the super weeb fever dream you're about to witness. Good luck.
Our boy successfully pulls off one of the audibles taught in Bang: More Lays in 60 Days, but the tables quickly turn on him. From then on it's a battle of egos as this greenhorn frolics through her first rear admiral'ing like it's a full body massage. There won't be a sequel.
Flat-chested girls everywhere rejoice because there's worse things in life than having no tits. You could have weird tits and add implants, leaving you with gigantic weird sideshow tits. And back problems.
The Spider-man of rope slinging is back and setting records Guinness refuses to recognize for some reason. Something about prosthetic nutsacs and bannable material. Well... he's legit and I have the research to prove it. [PART I]
I'm all for experimentation (specifically in Home Depot's garden accessories section), but for real... like Jerry's Final Thought real: Eventually this behavior is going to end up with a perforated colon the size of Gary Coleman and then it's GAME OVER YEEEEAAHH.
hmm, strange. Here I am thinking the whole "i'm training to turn my uterus into a parking garage for hellcats" was no longer a lucrative financial path worth pursuing. And then the last girl went ahead proved me wrong.
Ahh, the beautiful girls that fap for internet money. It's a stressful job full of internet chat trolls and dildos that need a power outlet. Understandably they can sometimes freak out a bit.
Some men need oral stimulation to get off. Others, a $20 shopping spree at Buffalo Wild Wings. And then there's this Vlad the Impaler lookin' mother fucker who needs nothing more than basic silverware to send his himself over the big-O rainbow. Hint: May be better enjoyed while listening to this classic piece.
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.
It truly never ends. Let's just label this one the Shawshank Redemption of "wtf, your load tastes like Alan Greenspan's deceased asshole" Alan probably isn't actually dead, but I trust that the implied mental image is still effective. Game on.
