Nope. Not even giving the participation trophy to the self-sustaining personal human centipede butthole hydration conveyor belt device being demonstrated at the 2:30 mark. It may have made the cut for this compilation... but at what cost?
You know what you get when you cast a guy that looks like he still gets the crust cut off his peanut butter and banana sandwiches? Believability mother fucker, that's what. Remove the Bangbros logo and scatter a few Star Wars Amibos in the background and I would have defended it's authenticity until the end of time.
It's that time once again to highlight some special times in webcam hookerdom. Witness e-prostitutes having breakdowns, getting attacked by small reptiles and other awesome wtfness.
A dozen volumes and all we can learn is a two-pack of Coors Light gives the confidence one needs to perform like a deranged circus animal. But today? That education is free. Practice what you see here and I promise them size 14 Bumble girls will never "lmao" at you again. More: [-1-] [-2-] [-3-] [-4-] [-5-] [-6-] [-7-] [-8-] [-9-] [-10-] [-11-]
This one is for the homies that asked me wtf happened to that girl who looks like Sarah Palin crossbreed her with a gerbil? As fate would have it, not even a pandemic slowed down her quest for hating cum on a budget. Yikes and might I add, gadzooks.
Being born with a deformity is horrible, until you consider the possibility of having two big fully functioning cocks. In that case, it's winning the genetic lottery and gaining super human sexual abilities. Finally a hero the internet deserves. Read more here.
2002-2004. An era of professionally produced pornography that should probably be forgotten. Not a single penetration was made, yet I feel like I've been fucked by spare tires and empty cans of Busch Light after sitting through this atrocity. The line dropped at 2:30 really makes you wonder how many Marlboro Miles these guy were paid for the scene.
Many a question will arise while shuffling through this one, but none more important than whatever comes out of your mouth around the 3:30 mark. Don't worry, you're not alone. I don't fucking know either.
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)
