Remember the frigid chick that randomly started sobbing in the middle of a Rocco shoot? It was actually pretty touching, to both my heart & my penis. But apparently that encounter was only chapter 1 in a saga of piss-poor decisions.
Losing an 8 inch dildo in in a girls ass can have some consequences beyond fecal flavoring. If you can't get it out, the shoot is over and it's an awkward trip to the hospital with an unhappy porn star.
More than enough reasons (see: 1) to never "try that thing i saw on the Internet with my girlfriend". Somewhere between the beef bazooka blowouts and frantically Google searching "how to get cat litter out of my vagina" you'll lose that last shred of dignity Dr. Phil is always screeching about.
Back in the mid 1900's, she was Italy's "Original Pornstar". Today she's senile, decrepit and probably doesn't even know whats going on but someone let her out the nursing home for one last porno shoot.
Aim for dry ground and let 'er rip. That's been the formula for centuries... until Krystal "i have standards" Steal showed up. You see, she has more apathy for body fluids than Paula Deen has for low fat potato chippies. Ever wonder what it would be like if KFC had an all-you-can-eat buffet? That's the kind of 'sounds fun but always ends bad' disappointment I'm talking about here.
From the clearance section of BackPage.com comes an escort sporting bed bugs, a wonky titty, and a heart of gold. Her entire scene is just one giant cluster fuck disaster of fail and it's beautiful.
Not since the 2005 release of 1 Night In Chyna have I seen a woman with such a fucked up misunderstanding of eroticism. She grunts like pirate with stage 4 throat cancer, pisses all over the place, and has a finishing act that'll assfuck your brain cells.
Todays menu: a.) girl manipulates dad into oral sex while mom contemplates suicide b.) leper fucks ass, leper's winky gets decapitated, leper continues to fuck ass anyway and c.) vintage buttrape porn, never fuck with a man that's just lost a game of Old Maid.
Auto-fellaters, Braingasms and a straight up public service announcement fists should only be use in a boxing ring. Today's episode is more unforgiving than my local mall security that time I was discovered defecating in Anthropologie's Aromatic and Ambiance fragrance section.
There's just no forgetting you did something like this. Their throats will be forever agaped. The chronic oral queefing has already set in. They're essentially walking, talking whoopie cushions and yet... they remain in good spirits. I like dat in a partner.
