Sometimes I think about the amount of guttural toxic waste this man has used his dipstick to measure without protective gear. There's no way he's still alive.
Looks like Sparky splurged all of his bat mitzvah nickles on the supreme package. She's built, looks like she enjoys it and judging by his lack of gagging, there's no aroma of yesterday's Newports anywhere to be seen. The glass ceiling is broken.
Seems like a nice girl. The type that'd throw herself off a building if you missed a text, or cheat on you if your Instagram post got zero likes. But her enthusiasm? I've seen happier faces cleaning the handicap toilets at Renaissance Fairs. Pass.
Wait, could this be a genuine proposition? Maybe. But what you should really be asking is: If Jennifer Lawrence was to crowbar her whisker biscuit, would the walls be comparable to the consistency of pulling apart a peanut butter sandwich?
Gru is equipped with the swagger of an inbred sheep herder. Apparently in the world of callgirl hanky panky, "suave" is not an option. Sure enough, she learns the hard way: never fuck with a man that knows every episode of ALF by heart.
A public service announcement on the cons and cons of searching for discounted hookers lurking in Craigslist's general section. If the intimate relationship with $5 scratch off tickets doesn't erect your cock, the aroma of Newport Menthols will.
Sometimes you feel so awkward watching something, you actually want it to be fake. That dude with the coagulated cheeseburger locker gut says otherwise...
Inflation is nearing 8%, gas costs more than your 3rd divorce... and you're burning through c-notes so you can jack yourself off with Ginger-Lynn's pinky crammed up your cinnamon ring? Dave Ramsey is gonna shit his appropriately priced pants.
Ever seen a professional cocksmith go from smiling to disgusted this quickly before? She's pretty good at hiding it but lemme tell you... it's all fun and games until you're face-to-gut with a man that has the sexual endurance of a sloth.
That's it. As far as I'm concerned the line between memes and real life officially doesn't exist anymore. Bring on the moth gangbangs and bowsette ejaculations.
Not since paying backpage.com's finest in pennies have you seen a sexual arrangement become such a challenge. A hooker with a 'no tits no blowjob' policy? Congratulations on being more useless than a chocolate teapot.
and by 'moment' I mean the 10 seconds it took for an Ecuadorian hooker to say ADIOS to the gangbang contract and make a run for the door. Only thing missing here is a Mariachi band attempting to cover Cyprus Hill songs.
Dude's got a knack for tossing sauce... and apparently he's been stockpiling for a week 'cause even a certified cocksmith wasn't expecting to put in overtime hours today. Not much of a talker, but she sure can squawk!
An eight minute crash course on how to squeeze every shekel out of your favorite vagrant - as illustrated by a guy that barks out more instructions than a fucking ride at 6 Flags. It's priceless information really. Trust me.
Fresh out of an Arby's parking lot and new to the ride & glide scene, this spring-loaded slut bounces her way to redneck superstardom. The flannel shirt gourmet knows this isn't porn. It's preparation for a marriage proposal.
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