Not since ejaculating to Samuel L Jackson's death scene in Deep Blue Scene have I felt this much cinematographic remorse. They just let his wonder worm flap around without even an attempt at Photoshop. Five more leading roles like this and she'll be ready for Paul Anderson.
Pairing a guy that looks like he spends the weekend trading anti-lesbian meatloaf recipes over AOL chatrooms, with a girl that gets so purple she should be asking "where's Ronald?" doesn't seem like a contender for documentary of the year. But then you hear who's narrating it.
idk, seems pretty predictable to me. Once the enchantment of a $200 payday and living their monthly YOLO moments has worn off, anxiety and regret should be expected. But shoutouts to wish.com for making these precious memories possible.
College level alcoholism and risk seeking behavior has led them to a ratchet motel, wasted off vodka red bulls and making a quick $100 each. Shouldn't be any surprise that these girls never did porn again.
The pharyngeal reflex AKA laryngeal spasm AKA gag reflex exists to prevent us from dying, but it also makes it much harder to shove dicks down our throats.
I never understood it. The idea of penetrating a chain-smoking ex-con bus driver with 2 blob fish bolted to her chest may work for some of you jabronis in the western world - but not me. I have standards.
Got one too many (see: 3) emails about this particular wildebeest seen in Unacceptable Devices VIII, so here's the full[er] version for the special kind of miscreant that prefers to end his No Nutting November with some class.
Bittersweet painal, obscenity-filled ogasms, and a boob job pre-dating the birth of jesus. This ones got it all, and Ms. Big Ole Leathery Funbags earns some serious bonus points at the 2:35 mark.. Not even a fuckin rectal injury can dull her desire for ATM.
You ever show up for the orgy but just jerk off by yourself? Or have you ever managed to be cringier than a wannabe white rapper with a pick in his ginger afro? Yea... me either. YAY!
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.
What does a Toyota Supra, lung cancer and a washer machine have in common? In most cases, absolutely fucking nothing. But this isn't like most cases. This is Czech pornography, the final frontier in sexual retardation.
Hey, no one said you had to like it Natalie Portman. Just lean forward, keep a tight grip on those communal wieners and think about all the Baconators you'll be able to purchase at the end of the week. That's what keeps me going. Her first appearance HERE.
