What's mine is yours. And what's yours makes her think walking away from that 4-year degree in Anthropological Gender Studies of Amazonian Tree Frogs to do this instead was a bad idea.
Dude's 18, doesn't know what a clitoris is and weighs less than Ally McBeal. But in the land of fuck-4-a-buck, all that really matters is the size of your Churro... and proportionately speaking, this dude's got a fat one. Emphasis on proportions. Looks like a banana glued to a fucking toothpick.
Dog The Bounty Hunter once told me the daywalker is one of, if not the most elusive creature on our planet. Decades of evolution have molded them to be some sort of cockroach/human hybrid. You'd think their survival skills would be S-tier, but all I got out of this was a lower credit score.
I like her face. I like her enthusiasm. But above all I like her devotion to commitment. Her borderline absent reaction to an explosive device detonating inside her spincther however, has reinforced my stance on late-term abortions. Like, 35 years late. Toss a token in the abyss via the source link.
This actually starts off as a painal vid, but much like Cuba Gooding Jr.'s acting career, that only lasts for about 14 seconds. From there on it's all pleasure, and by 'pleasure' I mean nervous system-disabling assgasms so hot even Stephen Hawking would pop wood.
First-timer foolishly assumes her debut appearance is going to be a walk in the park. Emphases on the word walk, because it looks like all her future tours of Italy at Olive Garden are going to be wheelchair accessible from this point forward. What in the fuck...
Today's menu? Uninsurable throat damage, the strongest rectum in Texas, more chain mail than Scott Steiner's closet, a recipe banned from 78% of Gordon Ramsay's restaurants and an erection even Penn and Teller can't explain to you. Good luck have fun.
I haven't come across so much reason to develop erectile dysfunction on purpose since going down the lore on [this social media creature]. It truly is an unfortunate day to have eyes.
