Breaking traditional workout regimes, NASA-sponsored ejaculations and Skynet inching ever closer to harvesting our organs through the channel of A.I. powered sex transformers. If the next 8 minutes doesn't shine a more positive light on your life, nothing will. I'm here to help.
Half of these participants would be better suited in the clearance section of Craigslist forgotten /erotic section. The other half might match you on Tinder if you try hard enough. Choose your fate. More: [-1-] [-2-] [-3-] [-4-] [-5-]
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]
There's only one reason people storyboard, shoot, edit and upload this kind of shit to the Internet. And it lives somewhere in between "I need to pay my taxes" and "$1 dollar pizza slices make me shit blood". Just three of life's little guarantees. More: [-1-] [-2-] [-3-] [-4-] [-5-] [-6-]
Found this gem in the Italian film "Capodanno in Casa Curiello", which roughly translates to "New Years at Grandpa's House". Think combining the gothic undertones of The Adam's Family with the threatening erections of Boogie Nights wouldn't work? You thought wrong faggit.
In Russia, a fake farm equipped with disco lights and some thot lip syncing catchy dance music while fucking for 20 minutes is quality porn. I'm not totally convinced, but the song does have a 'pavlov's dog' effect on my boner now.
Much like the Fast and Furious franchise, this series went from "what the fuck am I watching" to How do we get John Cena into one of these scenes? pretty damn quick. The tipping point involves Morgan Lee's last hurrah before someone convinced her to bootleg Lil Wayno songs. And no, you can't unsee that either.
There's really nothing more emasculating than getting taunted over your sexual inadequacies, save for maybe your mom walking in on you as you spank it to Robin Williams in Jumanji. The point is... Jumanji is a great movie and unfairly disregarded.
A rousing assembly of women that don't believe teh night is over until their clout levels have reached unmeasurable proportions. Reminiscent of a reoccurring dream I keep having involving Brock Lesnar and Long John Silver’s Cocktail Sauce.
What's hung like a Clydesdale and knows less words than a Pokemon? He's known simply as Vlad, and 37 states require a permit to walk around with that fucking thing in public.
Backpage's finest goes by "daddy's baby anal queen" and she aspires for greatness via her butthole. The only problem is she hates anal and her possibly worm-infested colon is so tight, it's like trying to fit an elephant in a Safeway bag.
