AKA "how to ruin your reputation on a global scale." Usually it's a good thing if everyone gets laid at a party... but not when they all fucked the same chubby std collector.
Another chapter closed in a book that Barnes & Noble insists on displaying in the Sci-Fi section. Normally read in the dimly lit corner of a trailer park that doesn't show up on Google maps, surrounded by Newports and half-eaten cans of Costco's finest meatball ravioli.
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.
Looks like being a camgirl is rough these days. Stuck living at home, she has to pull off stealthy ninja faps and even do her cam whoring literally right next to her unsuspecting mother.
Undoubtedly the most erotic thing I've seen since the time my 19 y/o housekeeper cried 'no es bueno' after happening upon my unflushed shitter. Day before was Olive Garden night, fuckin Tour Of Italy. To quote Lil Wayne - I made it rain.
What's hung like a Clydesdale and knows less words than a Pokemon? He's known simply as Vlad, and 37 states require a permit to walk around with that fucking thing in public.
Mobilized midgets, successfully executed autocunnilngus and the recreation of a sexual maneuver that put Okinawa on the map. It's safe to say this hodgepodge of misfits is more well rounded than a Golden Corral dinner special. Want more? PARTS: [-1-] [-2-] [-3-] [-4-]
3.5 minutes worth of reasons to never take your pants off without agreeing to the terms first. Especially the Lily Phillips clip. Two years later and somehow this specimen keeps managing to produce videos that would put a Victorian citizen into a coma.
Hiking trails? Elevators? Nursing homes? That's right, all of your most unassuming entertainment venues come at a hidden cost. Just a non-related tip of the day: Steer clear from any dipping sauces that have the word tangy in the name near closing time. Trust me.
There's a thin line between trailer park erotica, and soul-deep emotional trauma. Where that line exists I don't know... but judging by the amount of dollar store tattoos I'm seeing on that body, I'd say this human Hindenburg sure as fuck does.
