College level alcoholism and risk seeking behavior has led them to a ratchet motel, wasted off vodka red bulls and making a quick $100 each. Shouldn't be any surprise that these girls never did porn again.
When it's a girl's first time doing hardcore porn and she's too nervous on camera to put two syllables together, you get what I imagine to be the closest experience to fucking a corpse you can have without taking a trip to the morgue. Luckily the awkwardness only makes me harder.
Girls this determined to finish are hard to find without an Olympian background, so consider yourself lucky. Both for getting to bear witness to this unstoppable force, and for not having to be the one to explain the beef bourguignon shit stains on mom's new comforter.
The downside to treating your asshole as a source of income? Every time you get done colonizing the dark planet, somebody comes along and insists on outdoing you. I'm talking the kind of miscreant that would mount a Brontosaurus if it meant doubling her OnlyFans subs (4:25 mark). [DISCUSS HERE]
It's almost like as time passes, society has less than a fuck to give about where they burn the midnight salami. Reminds me of the time I was almost caught defecating in a Blockbuster return box in protest to late fees accumulated on Surf Ninjas. [my balance remains due]
Dr. Fucktown and his friend come up with another street scam that leaves you slightly moist but mostly disappointed. Not the worst reason to jump the pond and do a little sightseeing. In fact, throw in a bowl of your finest pork knuckle and I might make a weekend out of it.
Apparently Clayton Bigsby has an extended bloodline we were completely unaware of. Practice what you're about to see here & I promise - those pesky NPC'S will never scream "racism" again.
The lore actually goes deeper than you could have ever imagined. It's not about the volume of anonymous vagabond cocks. It's not about the money. It's about sending a [fucking] message.
Bridge piercing, stomach tattoos and the occasional rush to the emergency room for soft tissue damage. May I be so bold to say I haven't seen this level of intensity since The Shining.
It truly never ends. Let's just label this one the Shawshank Redemption of "wtf, your load tastes like Alan Greenspan's deceased asshole" Alan probably isn't actually dead, but I trust that the implied mental image is still effective. Game on.
