These overseas full force fuck fantasies videos are starting to get a little disturbing to be honest. And like one of the greatest voices of our generation once taught us: you never go full force. More questionable bean flicking material HERE.
The real reason caucasian people have trouble getting a job is because they all started drug testing, and the only white recreational activities left are substance abuse, incest, patriotism, fords and watching millionaire black's play school yard games.
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.
You know at one point in time her dirt tulip at full pucker was still smaller than the cock of an Eskimo in January. I want to know where that footage is. And more importantly, the followup video of John McAfee announcing her as his running mate for 2020?
On a dark night in some soviet shithole, crazy old man Vlad drank on his medication, put his birthday suit on and now he ain't taking no shit from no stupid Volvos giving him any crap.
This is actually a pretty accurate title, so brace your dicks 'cause you are about to meet a one hundred and ten pound girl with a fuck hole like a wind tunnel.
So you think Dr. Phil has covered all the bases of marital disasters? Well it's time to reevaluate bitch. These pioneers of female empowerment do it all. And by all I mean everything except give us the long awaited sequel to Karen's Krapper: Volume 27. Alexa, play Big Bottom by Spinal Tap.
Lexi Grey has a long list of do's and a virtually non-existent list of do-nots. Now somebody get this future hall of famer the urban dictionary definition of Alabama Hot Pocket ASAP so we can fight over who gets to marry her first.
I gotta say; supreme vag on the redhead. Haven't seen a pair of lips that impressive since the time I got caught with a VHS rip of Fast Times at Ridgemont High and the last jar of Smuckers Sweet Orange Marmalade. Mother's Day hasn't been the same since.
So, who's really to blame here? The horse farm that secured their perimeter to keep her away from the livestock, or the guy with 4 Q's in his name that's keeping her on a 1-token drip for the past 4 hours?
I dunno man... this seems like a pretty predictable outcome to me. Shes got the tolerance of silicon carbide and the prick practicing Macho Man's entire moveset is more annoying than a checkmarked Twitter account. Permanent damage should be expected.
I've sat through 8 billion brother fucker incest storylines, the desecration of an icon and whatever the fuck this is. That being said, it's comforting to know I can still find astonishment in the super weeb fever dream you're about to witness. Good luck.
