She looks like a sweet girl. The kinda woman that would have a homemade bowl of Gaspacho ready for you after a long day of work. Anyway [heres] her chowing down on this dudes bag like its hiding grammas old fashioned marmalade recipe.
Not her first rodeo. Real ball-knowers have seen this mongrel practically drown herself in unknown BBC way before OF was a thing. Just the love of the game.
Don't let the optimistic smiles fool you. This social media misfit has less concern for the ringus around her bingus than a unionized construction worker on his lunch break. aka damage is imminent. Oh well. Try your best, DLSS5 the rest.
Stewart and his local Dungeons and Dragons chapter approach your wife with their war drums out, looking for an impromptu handicap match. What do you do?
Always the same setup with these Clydesdales: Find a soft 7, then time it just right to bust a nut while asking for directions to Wetzel Pretzel. Today is no exception.
4 outta 5 physicians will advise against this behavior. But a lifetime of chronic digestive complications doesn't really seem to concern these prodigies. Big risks = more clout. And more clout = more fashionably retarded short form content.
While padding your resume may not exactly be something generally frowned upon when seeking an enhancement in your employment opportunities, safety should always be your first priority. And at least 1 change of your finest linens.
idk where this is, but try that in the US of A and the situation will be immediately amplified by a guy 1 Michelob Ultra away from a public rampage. That's a warning. Never underestimate a man with garbage bags full of [this shit] in his basement.
Imagine coming home during the witching hour only to find your significant other kneeling down, thorax-deep on Jamal's chopped cheese. (The Harlem original)
Congratulations to the golden glove duo working that dude's bag like a 19th century gandy dancer (look it up). Homie may have survived all 9 rounds, but he'll never be able to eat applesauce without a war zone flashback ever again.
The title may be bs, but at least it's not A.I. An unfortunate level of acceptance our dystopian future has waiting for us when it comes to waxin the carrot. Almost as depressing as that spine tattoo acting as a roadmap to her Hersey Kiss faucet.
The $28 budget isn't winning awards, but I gotta admit: I like her look. It screams "i lived in a trailer park but dad let me drive the trans am to school sometimes"
As fate would have it combining the genetics of a 1st-world pornstar and modern tech yields impressive results. 7 seconds. 7 seconds is all that you will spare her.
Not every day someones title has me scratching all three nuts in bewilderment. But "Dumb Flashlight with Cow Tits" is a choice. Not even all 32 volumes of Encyclopedia Britannica are any help and my disappointment is immeasurable.
Today's fix? Unfixable societal damage, the strongest vaginal lining in Arkansas and more teamwork than then Norway FIFA team. The PTA meeting is cancelled.
A vaginal opening that doesn't look like it's seen the wheels of an El Dorado is a welcomed change. Perhaps if OF creators could keep the Tampa Bay Buccaneers' starting line outside of their underwears this could become a hot new trend.
Sorry hungry peasants eternally trapped under the inflation line. It seems all that lab grown meat has been diverted to her upper body. Now if you'll excuse me...
Requesting $14.00 for a cup of pre-burnt plastic coffee beans from the jungles of Madagascarfuckyourself rly should come w/ a point card that redeems this prize.
Honestly, I dig the vibe. She's 1 part goth, 27 parts mental patient. Make direct contact with her cervix at just the right velocity and she starts throwing the kind of rival gang signs that would get your ass smoked in Rancho Cucamonga.
