Look, I understand setting realistic expectations for yourself in life... but maybe we can try to do better than communal ashtray next time? I believe in you.
Coors Light expert zones out her surroundings just long enough to focus on better things. I.E. getting a faceful of Kentucky's finest directly into her minge. I'm waiting for the sequel. The one where Lester makes a b-line for that b-whole.
In a society where ur social credits are measured by how many bloodlines you can disrupt, I'll assume this Chadberg is hovering somewhere between "Birmingham Bad Boy" and "AIDS Victim". I'm not confident enough to place the bet just yet.
Some of these women are mothers now. They were mothers back then too... but they're still mothers now. I want you to think about that before havin a chuckle.
Clearly this chumpo prefers his women to be on the defensive, specifically ones that have the best set of ham hocks I've seen this side of Walmart's customer service line. I can promise this: its the greatest ICP-fan sex tape you'll see today.
Well... that's a new one. The whole block is getting handfuls of all udders, and not a single shot was fired. This whole feminism thing might not be so bad afterall.
Just a little PSA for those folks that might actually come across one of these misfits on Tinder. Swipe left; your insurance plan won't cover the other direction.
Overt use of pharmaceuticals, public squabblenecking, 60FPS cameras... this video is more well-rounded than the list of STDS on her Tinder profile. No kicker, but wat it lacks in surprises... it makes up for in the worst dirty talk you'll hear ever.
Lookout world, this eroding shit stain has no limits. He also has a group of friends that lost their virginitys to a series of mail-order body pillows. Keep these 2 details in mind - it's the closest clue you're gonna get as to why the fuck this was filmed.
This girl has a clitoral overload immediately following an impromptu canyon yodeling. This is the wwhere I'm supposed to cut the sleeves off my shirt and call her a slut, but I'd rather comfort her while sniffing her butt. It's called romance.
There's no better way to celebrate your final day of freedom than by cramming a bottle of Pepsi's finest in the tuna mitten of a $14.00 hooker. They went for an assisted goal, but she insisted max capacity was already reached. UH HUH...
It's a shame they didn't take this a step further and use their natural resistance to pain and turn her crusty doughnut into a cut of roast beef the diameter of a Mazda Miatia. Then maybe I could have ejaculated today...
How to make ur silly fetish porn better? Feature a guy over 5' tall & get closeups. That's what we really want: sexual assault vicariously through the Internet. Not watch Johnny Shortdick stumble his way through puberty.
