Check her twat at the 1.55 mark. After no more than 15 seconds of diddling her clit, shit becomes the Niagra Falls of vaginal discharge. Camera dude says it's cum. I have 5 bucks and case of diet Mr. Pibb that says it's forgotten creampie from yesteryear.
This might eradicate any train-running fantasies you might have once had. But it will also peak your curiosity as to how Danny Glover spends a Saturday night with friends. It's what us Internet folk call a video that's perfectly balanced, as all things should be.
wow, I haven't seen this kind of perplexity since the days of taking my Canadian nickles on tour of the Craigslists escort section. Think you seen confusion? Try paying a "SBBWGFE-OUTCALL" in a foreign currency, then you can talk to me. MORE PARTS: [-1-] [-2-] [-3-] [-4-]
Was originally going to call this "A Gentleman's Guide to Investing, then quickly realized even Warren Buffet himself experiences deeper penetrations than whatever the fuck we just witnessed here. Seriously, dude was one wrong trajectory away from being featured in one of those JCS videos.
Scene's over and it's time to go home... but first this starlet has a complete mental unraveling. Her tears and plight do little more than generate awkward lulz and kill the mood for the next girl.
Meme Porn: Sometimes it's about as exciting as an audio book of Gordon Ramsay customizing a value meal at Burger King. But throw in a guy with 2 moms, pay him in dollar-store pastries -- and suddenly you've got more fapping hours than you'll know what to do with.
I've never liked golf... or any sports for that matter. I don't see the point of putting balls in holes for points 'n shit, but when the goals have been replaced with holes, you have earned my attention.
Pug-faced Hispanic drinks herself so numb she doesn't even notice when last night's chimichanga is hanging halfway out her asshole. Her laugh is as bad as her hygiene. Sounds like something Steven Urkel would emit while making love to the dude from Wonder Years. Watch this one all the way through.
You can brag about your triple digit IQ all you want bruh. If you're not using it to turn your asshole into a bowl of Bob Evans Mashed Potatoes it's about as useful as a hot shower is to this classic r-word.
What happens when you let your BBC-obsessed husband talk you into the kind of Smackdown WWE would be jealous of? Here's a hint: You end up booking a legendary Iron Man match, but there's no winner.
