Today we're gonna look back into the history books. Our lesson includes everything from unadulterated violence, more than 5 flavors of that authentic shagged bush and even an appearance from an unlikely celebrity from day's past. A man that was taken way too soon.
Ever wonder how these girls are able to accommodate penises large enough to legally require airbags? HINT: They take painkillers. Lots of 'em. And I'm not talking about the kind that leave you looking like the cover of Alison Arngrim's “Heeere's Amy". (look it up)
Some women require foreplay to get off. Others, Little Caesars 5 for $5.00. And then there's Jessica Carrboro aka The Crotch Vampire, who takes no less than a scoop of organic strawberry swirl to get moist. I say this with complete sincerity: You're not ready for her.
Oi vey, a lost little boy with a shaved ass hops on the bang bus to get seduced and humiliated by a porn goddess. She plays with him like he is just her own personal dreidel of lulzy love.
We had to go back, way back and deep into the pornography archives of the 1970's. All those hours of sifting through pale, over exposed bodies and bush was worth it to uncover this beautiful forgotten gem.
The 70's were a special time in history where no one gave a fuck. Smoking in hospitals, untamed pubes, sexually harassing midgets at the workplace, and faking a cum shot with a limp penis and shampoo? No problem. Nothing was sacred.
Her claim to fame is deplorable... but when the clothes come off her barbarian hips look like they can survive giving birth to Danny Devito and it's fuckin' beautiful. 5/5 Yelp stars, would eat again.
I don't think she wanted her clit pierced, but she asks her boyfriend if he was sure about it and he assured her he was. She goes between pain, pleasure and ends up in tiny convulsions. Fun times!
A "last man standing" circle jerk to the death with tranny power rangers from outer space. After decades of being forced to censor genitals, Japanese smut producers have lost their minds.
If you thought we were going to make it through 3 volumes of woman decorating their reproductive systems with everything that isn't bolted down at Home Goods, and not get a single appearance by the only pornstar that could land a Dyson sponsorship; you thought wrong. And quite frankly, I'm a little disappointed. Also RIP Rowdy Piper.
If the 1980's taught me something, it's that ANYthing goes as long as there's a killer soundtrack behind you. Except this. Not even the renaissance of crack will be held liable for this shit.
