First the extra terrestrial, and now this Silent Hill sub-boss is getting more action on the field than the Minnesota Vikings? I don't know what the fuck is going on recently, but eventually this behavior is going to involve the fire department.
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.
A laptop dancing internet stripper takes her fapping to the streets. Only problem is a viewer tipped off building security and her guerrilla sexual tactics are gonna get cut short.
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.
Some men need oral stimulation to get off. Others, a $20 shopping spree at Buffalo Wild Wings. And then there's this Vlad the Impaler lookin' mother fucker who needs nothing more than basic silverware to send his himself over the big-O rainbow. Hint: May be better enjoyed while listening to this classic piece.
I guess this is what happens when your Netflix and Chill night turns into a solo adventure and you start organizing the "Foreign Girls That Like WuTang" sub-folder in your NUT directory. I don't know, I see more reasons you shouldn't cornhole wild life thanks to her constant deer-in-headlights reaction than I do sitcom legends. Thoughts?
It seems Allie Addison's apprehension levels are at zero, giving her little trouble with broski's maximum depth potential. And by little trouble, I mean the kind of potential organ rearrangement Art The Clown would be proud of.
I can't imagine what life decisions lead to your obituary being littered with the words "twerking" and "public nuisance" and "30,000 volts". But I'm betting it involves the neighbor's parakeet, and all 16 delicious flavors of Rice-a-Roni. (fuck you Rice Pilaf)
Human Toilets & The Non Fungible Assholes. No, that's not the name of the next great Portland garage band, however the post-view flea bath is still required. The smell of Drakkar Noir and Astro Glide may come out of those walls, but... the stories. The stories are forever.
I'm all for testing boundaries, but caution should be advised if you want to attempt any of these yourself. Tip: When testing those Special Team plays you saw online, it's best to practice first. PROOF: The $4500 bill I have for buying this.
