Our newest philanthropist has officially crossed the line into perverse territory. Not even his predecessors can claim they've pushed their love of charity this far before. Take 2 showers tonight. Just in case. [ PART I ]
There's a thin line between trailer park erotica, and soul-deep emotional trauma. Where that line exists I don't know... but judging by the amount of dollar store tattoos I'm seeing on that body, I'd say this human Hindenburg sure as fuck does.
See? Not every post here has to be about unsuitable bodily penetrations and the Montana residents that love them. Sometimes you gotta slow down and appreciate women that would charge $99.99 to drop ship you their fart jars. Ask me how I know.
The only thing more arousing than a mother renting our her own flesh and blood to the tune of a 2 for 1 BOGO flash sale, is the sequel of a mother renting our her own flesh and blood to the tune of a 2 for 1 BOGO flash sale. I don't know about you but my shrimp roll just got supersized.
Another 12 months of spectating the human experiment take another detour to fuck town USA, aided by wrestling memes and movies you probably never heard of before. It was a fine society we had here once upon a time. But like buying a video card without qualifying for a loan first, those days are over.
Today we're rounding third on a baker's dozens worth of boner-deflating cringe collections so bleak, you'll wonder what the point of sexual intercourse even is anymore. Just load up one of those Choose Your Own Adventure Hentai VR fantasies, and fuck the Hamtaros out of a face-swapped Charizard until you feel alive again.
Real? Deceptive editing? The Goku of premature ejaculation? I don't have the answer this time. But just imagine if he went even further with this talent. Plan-B's entire industry would need emergency funding.
All kinds of fucking disturbance going on here, but the girl hyper gooning next to the 3rd editions of Goosebumps soft covers should probably get an award or an all-expenses paid trip to the Vagisil aisle at her local RiteAid or something. Those carpets look filthy.
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]
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.
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.
