You can brag about your male pattern baldness all you want homeboy. But if you're not turning all vaginas within a 3 mile distance into your own personal bowl of Hungry Jack Mashed Potatoes, are you even living the Costanza?
You don't have to be a tier-3 to experience this kind of homemade hysteria. Just zero in on the girls that are sexually attracted to Amibos and the yoinked "donations" will flow in faster than you can complain about them on Twitter. [Part I]
Let me tell ya something champ: I've seen some loathsome shit in my day: Tijuana farm hopping, suggestive photos of Rosie O'Donnell, and whatever that Ghostbusters reboot was. But this? This made me boil a pot of chamomile tea and tell my dick a bedtime story. [OP]
It's that time again. The blurring of that line between majoring at a community college and female independence as illustrated by a sex act that's lead to more adult diapers than In n' Out's Animal Style. Never before has adult entertainment made me proud of the reward points I earned shopping exclusively at Walgreens.
Tip of the Day: Allowing any part of your body to find it's way in between a fully-enraged Tory Lane and a device that was designed to un-crust last night's Pinto Bean Soufflé isn't a constructive use of your time. You stand about as much chance of going home unscathed as a WSB does being profitable.
Round #2 in a series that showcases the authentic side of some of our most interesting citizens. I'm not exactly sure what life choices have to be made to end up here, but it probably has something to do with blue checkmarks and whatever they put in those Impossible burgers.
Much like Tyler Perry going 30 seconds without filming a Medea movie, you can literally see the rage in this chick's eyes. Emphasis on the 0:34 mark with the realization that the $17.50 she just made will barely cover the Clearasil bill.
Imagine reaching a point in your life where incest fantasies just aren't doing it for you anymore, so you unleash an even deeper mental illness and create some sort of hybrid, cabbage patch, mother-daughter serial killer, fuck dance home videos and think not hiding your identity is a good idea. This is that point.
A teenager confesses his first sexual experience. Based on a true story about a peanut butter sandwich, the dangers of masturbating, and how Aunt Opal made her nephew a man. A man with issues needing life long therapy, but a man none the less.
The one and only JSC aka The O.G. Wzard of the Teflon Rectum. Her anal acrobatics set such a standard in the renaissance days of underground porn, you'd almost forget she used her vag recreationally. But in 1998... something magical happened...
No, seriously don't. Every once in a while pornography life overlaps into real life lessons. Let's just be glad this learning experience was made possible without the assistance of Czechoslovakian accents, and a petting zoo. You don't want to see the things I've seen man.
A special "BRUH" moment for clip #4. I honestly haven't seen a woman that concerned since I test ran the floor units in Home Depot's toilet bowl section after White Castle started selling their burgers by the hundreds. Let's just say I'm not allowed to improve my house again until 2027. TAKE IT AWAY CORPSEGRINDER.
My tenure in pornography has made witness to a lot of hopeless girls doing a lot of hopeless shit just to keep their Tampax bills paid. But essentially giving your fellow camstitutes the green light to cry their way to Efukt superstardom? That's a level of loyalty I didn't even know I wanted.
