Trying to convince your wife to participate in what can only be described as gathering of the juggalos that serves pasta salad? Bold. But her response? Giggling like she found an extra tender in her 4-piece. Relationships shlamationships.
Compliments aren't my strong point, but I must say... chick in the yellow dress is fucking stunning. I'd readily eat Honey Nut Cherrios out of Philip Seymour Hoffman's crusty asshole just for a chance to hold her hand. Someone Russian please hook it up.
To find a man truly worthy of this title we must dig deep into the early days of internet pornography. A time when potato quality was top notch and only took 2 hours to download.
The pharyngeal reflex AKA laryngeal spasm AKA gag reflex exists to prevent us from dying, but it also makes it much harder to shove dicks down our throats.
It's too bad they don't do returns or exchanges, because these tits look like fuckin' grocery bags with cabbages in them. UGH...would totes still smash, but shit them titties fucked up yo!
Dudes that look like half-evolved Animorphs, Jurassic Park fetishizers and turning a 2 liter into a condom. And they are all getting laid on a regular basis. I'd suggest you let that sink in, but... the mud is already too deep.
Who the fuck comes up with these hybrid fetish flicks? Next time you producers want to get creative, how about coating a machete in Zoloft and fucking Logan Paul up the cornholio until he's smiling like Matt Damon on the cover of Good Will Hunting? Google it.
If this year has taught me anything at all; it's that cabin fever has driven desperate people to the edge. Especially the ones that are no stranger to Walmart gift cards and live on streets that are named after presidents. 2022 is gonna be lit ya'll.
If anything at all, you should be digging the distance some people will go just for the sake of being different. That's what porn is really missing: A relatable leading actress that's been kicked out of a WWE catering truck. Twice.
Not exactly the most unexpected chain of events from a class of people that come less prepared for war than whoevers handicap stall I invaded at Waffle House last week. Sorry Wheels, but the bucket in the janitor's closet simply doesn't meet my capacity standard.
