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?
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".
Another posse of preoccupied partially sentient protagonists wondering if they could but never questioning if they should. These things would have never happened if they just gave Jeff Goldblum the Oscar.
She's having problems of the ovarian variety and it's about to fuck your day up. My defense? eFukt lacks videos for the female demographic. You already know where this is going.
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.
So this is what happens when Chaturbate gets saturated with day-ones and you have to find creative ways to scalp juicer tokens. All because a rickshaw driver from Tanzania can't stop maxing out his data plan so he can tell azngirl8537 to "show anal and borbs".
Meet Scott Taylor. Today Scott is a well respected porn mogul, but that wasn't always the case. Flashback to the glory years of 1985 and witness the Billy Mays of penis pump salesmen.
I imagine this is what happens when all of your knowledge of the English language comes from Pizza Hut commercials and TikTok. In fact, I may have just uncovered a form of communication so useless that California colleges might start offering 4-year degrees in it.
If there's one thing that never fails to get me questioning the future of this whole human race experiment; it's what the most unassuming person will consider a sexual accessory. So here's about 6 of them. That's right, six. As in the number of times I replayed the noise that Pringles can made when ricocheting off her head.
