If you thought we were going to make it through 3 volumes of woman decorating their reproductive systems with everything that isn't bolted down at Home Goods, and not get a single appearance by the only pornstar that could land a Dyson sponsorship; you thought wrong. And quite frankly, I'm a little disappointed. Also RIP Rowdy Piper.
A proud self-identified "throat goat" with self-destructive blowjob skills attempts total sexual suicide via co-stars penis. I like this bitch, she's fucking crazy.
idk what the fuck is going on in that last clip. But if that isn't the body type of a woman that's muttered the words 'i used dijon mustard as lubricant while losing my virginity to a neighbor's pontiac fiero' at Festivus dinner, idk what is. Now apologize to the laws of thermal dynamics.
Another quarter, another gaggle of beatniks that are one step closer to finding a way to fit more military equipment in their gravy cave than an aircraft carrier. Emphasis on the mini gorlock seen around the 5:45 mark. You'll never look at cave diving the same again.
He finally decided it was time to let his wife try fucking a black dude... just once. He even films it so they can look back on this special moment. Good call because half way through he starts getting wet feet about the whole 'stranger fucking my wife' thing.
Lulu Love gets an unexpected, unwanted invite to a Turkish bike ride. Likely due to this rectal romeo giving more fucks about where his third supper is coming from than what he's aiming at. In other words: he tried to find da wey and it failed beautifully.
That first girl is something special. Her reactions may normally be mistaken for being on the wet end of a crypto rug pull or your proctologist reaching for spicy mayo instead of an authorized lubricant but trust me, this is something totally different. (Autism. It's autism.)
A socially inept goober gets a job getting jerked off by a hottie and manages to fuck it up, dashing his dreams of porn stardom in the process. It's like the movie Rudy, if Rudy was thrown out the game before ever playing and never scored.
Irrationally sized flobberweavels, a urethra that's suffered more abuse than whoever the fuck bought Barstool for $500 mil and the recreation of a classic in glorious high(er) definition. Don't think of this as the balanced breakfast you need, think of it as the one you deserve.
