See that rush of fear around the 3:00 mark? That's the kind of reaction second only to a man that has miscalculated his maximum capacity for P.F. Changs Orange Chicken in a public venue. And I think that's something we can all relate to. L, OH, fuckin L
Every girl should know that a slippery fuck toy plus a cavernous butthole can equal a trip to the ER. Next time save yourself the embarrassing shuffle through the waiting room and tie a string to that mother fucker.
The more inbreeding in your bloodline, the further you'll go to seek sexual satisfaction. A simple concept, officially reinforced by whatever director's cut episode of Survivor Man is going on in that last clip. I'll put it this way; in comparison it makes Jeppson's Malort seem like a fucking delicacy. It's that abhorrent.
Most notable is the magician at the :34 second mark aka [Area51Freak] Not a common name you see around these parts. Probably because it sounds like she was knee deep in Runescape quests when she came up with it. And much like OSRS, you don't need a big rig to please her.
It's mind over colon in the world of extreme anal porn and this busted bitch is a friggin' jedi master. Years of determination, training and butt hole abuse were all worth it to make this magical feat of beauty possible.
[MAKE SURE YOU WATCH PART 1 FIRST] Here it is. A live demonstration of what may be the very first evidence that sexually transmitted diseases are a conspiracy. Freddie Mercury: I'm going to get you the justice you deserve.
The upside to being treated like the exhaust pipe of a Chevrolet El Dorado? Literally nothing. All you have to do is breath and the alpha male fantasy fan fiction will magnetize to you like a herpes outbreak at a Playboi Carti concert.
I've actually seen [this girl] before, but never getting ragdolled like Jeff Bezo's disposable income. Maybe when she's done finding herself, she can sign up for a safer hobby. Like glassblowing. Or teaching mountain lions yoga, for example.
For a minute there I was starting to lose faith in degenerate white guy's ability to keep me entertained. Then I was introduced to a fetish with more questions than Sylvester Stallone's medicine cabinet.
Classic cases of unbridled overconfidence. If only these creatures put as much effort into velcroing their crotches shut in public, as they did into experimenting with pain medications: Then maybe these permanent marks on their resumes could have been avoided. Yikes and gadzooks.
Not since ejaculating to Samuel L Jackson's death scene in Deep Blue Sea have I felt this much cinematographic remorse. They just let his wonder worm flap around without even an attempt at Photoshop. Five more leading roles like this and she'll be ready for Paul Anderson.
