My first pay-to-play happened in a Burger King toilet stall. She was more Kurt Perry than Katy Perry, Kinda foul. Not even a triple replay of Heather Graham's bush in Boogie Nights changed the mood that night. But... if I had this guy's attitude? Life... life would be different.
Sonuva bitch... dude's packing the kind of penis that can only be described as "an emergency every time I have to take a piss". Time to call up AARP and find out what size wheelbarrow they're willing to cover for this kind of disability. Something in a dual-wheel polycarbon should do it.
There's just no hiding from your past once you pull the trigger on something like this. Their Ross Store wardrobes will be forever stained. The regret can't be washed off. And the $27 paycheck isn't enough to drink the memories away. #crankthattherapist
Don't let the half-assed attempt at blurring out Jackin' Jerry's face fool you; The situation may very well be authentic. Such as illustrated by our power couple having more will to finish the story than Cody Rhodes. English translation possibly done by David Lynch.
4+ minutes of public debauchery so misunderstood, you'll wonder how long it will be until Amber Heard drags them in front of a judge. Especially that duo clapping cheeks arm's length away from the bratwurst dujour around the 0:49 second mark. Just marvelous.
A run of the mill twerking competition is won in an epic land slide when little miss hair extensions makes the guy jizz himself. For her legendary feat Shaquanda is awarded the illustrious title and like fitty bucks.
I don't know why anyone would post such things of themselves onto such a terrible place as the internet, but whatever! Come ride the shit train with me on a journey into the awful side of amateur pornography.
You know what you get when you cast a guy that looks like he still gets the crust cut off his peanut butter and banana sandwiches? Believability mother fucker, that's what. Remove the Bangbros logo and scatter a few Star Wars Amibos in the background and I would have defended it's authenticity until the end of time.
If attempting to monetize your most private confessions is any sign of a recession, I'd say we're at the tip of an iceberg that would make the dotcom bubble look like like an afterthought. I'll be expecting a lot more of this until Jim Cramer capitulates.
So, who's really to blame here? The horse farm that secured their perimeter to keep her away from the livestock, or the guy with 4 Q's in his name that's keeping her on a 1-token drip for the past 4 hours?
