I think we all know what really happened to that Malaysian airplane, as we've all seen Donnie Darko and know about the government cover up. But hey, all I'm really trying to say is that at least the G-spot is easier to find than Flight 370.
Some women require foreplay to get off. Others, Little Caesars 5 for $5.00. And then there's Jessica Carrboro aka The Crotch Vampire, who takes no less than a scoop of organic strawberry swirl to get moist. I say this with complete sincerity: You're not ready for her.
New fetish unlocked at the 2:35 mark: Wearing your friends fish purses like a pair of Jimmy Choo platforms. Except in this version you don't have to cough up a mortgage payment on 5th avenue before getting ankle deep during fashion week. Bargain of the century. [more: Y809Y]
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.
Farted on, finger raped, told he looks like fuckin Robin Williams - this dude endures pain you can't even imagine. Fortunately he's a Sum 41 mosh pit survivor and holds a blackbelt in making Terminator-esque sound effects whilst flailing his arms like a fucking idiot, so it's all good.
A truly beautiful ballad about a girl that makes pterodactyl sex noises and a man that pulls off one of the most amazing sexual achievements ever filmed. I think we all wish we had a little Jimmy in us.
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.
First-timer foolishly assumes her debut appearance is going to be a walk in the park. Emphases on the word walk, because it looks like all her future tours of Italy at Olive Garden are going to be wheelchair accessible from this point forward. What in the fuck...
