4+ minutes of public debauchery so misunderstood, you'll wonder how long it will be until Amber Heard drags them in front of a judge. Especially that duo clapping cheeks arm's length away from the bratwurst dujour around the 0:49 second mark. Just marvelous.
Lispy the 'racist camera man' teaches us a new word and turns an anal scene into a hilarious cluster fuck. The music is a piece by Mozart and the title translates to "lick my ass"; seemed fitting.
A laptop dancing internet stripper takes her fapping to the streets. Only problem is a viewer tipped off building security and her guerrilla sexual tactics are gonna get cut short.
Hiking trails? Elevators? Nursing homes? That's right, all of your most unassuming entertainment venues come at a hidden cost. Just a non-related tip of the day: Steer clear from any dipping sauces that have the word tangy in the name near closing time. Trust me.
Semi-homeless degenerate gets caught 4 strokes away from superstardom only to be met with the full force of a Starbucks-fueled Karen, ultimately sending his hardon to the boner graveyard. We've all seen it before. BUT, the big game hunter at the 2:15 mark? That predator deserves it's own week on The Discovery Channel.
This is what happens when you allow incels to explore live environments. Safe spaces are invaded, genitals get exposed - all because some guy who thinks Ethereum will be the world's currency couldn't get his weiner wet at the last box social and is now living a revenge fantasy.
Most erections flatline after muttering the letters "ICP". Maybe even translate into an episode of syphilis or three. But not here. Enjoy this one slowly... for today Holly Hendrix proves without a shadow of a doubt that everyone with her last name is a natural-born musician.
Notorious shake shack enthusiast decides to document one of his many attacks on titan. He sabotages his own rubbers, fakes empathy and could give less than a shit about divorce papers. This could only end one way.
Everything in life has a proper explanation if you open your mind. Except the homie trying to scrub daddy his dirty walnut on a Tuesday afternoon in broad daylight around the 1:45 mark. NORAD will hear about this.
Every good film deserves 4 sequels... and many moons ago I stumbled upon a select few degenerates that give less fucks about 'dignity' and 'clean STD tests' than the roster of the 1970 Lakers. Venturing into dead meme territory, but the hole-to-hole acrobatics are worth a followup.
