Here it is. Round 2 in what is arguably the most offensive thing you can do in public besides mothershipping the handicap stall at Baskin Robbins. But unlike those shit gremlins - these titans of societal norms actually film the entire thing.
Essentially this is a public service announcement on the cons and cons of touring San Fransisco. Some will live to tell the tale. Others will merge with Skid Row through osmosis. But all will learn the defintion of of "Ordering the Portuguese Breakfast".
Undoubtedly the most erotic thing I've seen since responding to an OKCupid message from a girl named The Violator. Results were similar if you replace 'cumshot' with 'Hellmans Tartar Sauce'. And 'private affair' with 'Burger King during rush hour'.
Door Dash your chimichangas and fire up the Demi Lovato playlist, for you are about to witness the pinnacle of peak male performance. Not since the 2017 inauguration have I heard this many vegan-powered war cries go unanswered lol
First time squirters, prolapse-induced climaxes and bittersweet hategasms... today's vid has more variety than a fuckin Sizzler salad bar. Best comes last, so I recommend you see this one all the way through.
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.
Today's edition is chock full of bladder busters, flagrant neighbor abuse and whatever that vegan dinner special was at the end. But what really activated my garbanzo bean is the length some of these fucking gargoyles are willing to go. Take notes ladies: It's this kind of work ethic that transforms you from super walmart to super star.
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.
The downside to dating a girl with the self-awareness of a TikTok investor? Literally nothing. Not even an unannounced visit to vegemite valley is enough to send her running. Either we have a cold-blooded liar on our hands, or that pudding hatch is spring-loaded.
It truly never ends. Let's just label this one the Shawshank Redemption of "wtf, your load tastes like Alan Greenspan's deceased asshole" Alan probably isn't actually dead, but I trust that the implied mental image is still effective. Game on.
