Classic cases of unbridled overconfidence. If only these creatures put as much effort into velcroing their crotches shut in public, as they did into experimenting with pain medications: Then maybe these permanent marks on their resumes could have been avoided. Yikes and gadzooks.
Ratchet is what you get if a "ghetto hood rat" and a "chicken head" have a fatherless child that becomes a stripper or aspiring rapper with Tupac quotes for tattoo's and eight ratchet kids of their own.
If there's a book out there on what NOT to do during intercourse, I'd say this dude just paved the way for a fucking trilogy. Nevermind his Rosie O'Donnell-like figure, or his unsettling fetish for floppy disks. The real prize is at the 2.48 mark. Ladies and gentleman, this motherfucker just single-handedly brought back Planking.
Hot chicks + social anxiety. It's a phenomenal combination, second only to Mr. Pibb w/ Koala Yummies. Add a degree of sexual inexperience into the mix and you got yourself GF material, provided that they don't first end up in porn like this tard.
Some real memorable facial expressions in this one. Almost as if she can't believe someone would pay good money to hookup with a person possessing less sexual prowess than a New York City hotdog, and still achieve climax. 4/10; would penetrate again.
It seems Allie Addison's apprehension levels are at zero, giving her little trouble with broski's maximum depth potential. And by little trouble, I mean the kind of potential organ rearrangement Art The Clown would be proud of.
Some of these cinnamon twist fuck chickens are kind of impressive. While most men will claim to inhale the caramel frappuccinos out of a 7/10 girl's shit basket just to say they were in the same room as them, these pioneers actually take action. This is the true duality of man.
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.
There's a lot to digest here. But nothing is as concerning as whatever rodeo clown, double-wide uncle sister bullshit is going on around the 3:11 mark. Axe body wash isn't going to clean this feeling off me tonight. Time to dip into the disaster emergency kit.
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.
I'm not even phased by empty-calorie diet plan Okinawa constantly subjects me to anymore. What really twists my biscuits is the lack of followup to these videos. idk what monster this T-Virus will turn them into, but we probably don't have enough ammo to kill them.
