A baffling assortment of eccentric freaks so confusing out of place, you'll think you're watching the new Scream movie. There's a time and place for everything... except tag teaming a $1,000 dollar Queen's Blade figurine. That's a permanent no from me dawg.
Check her twat at the 1.55 mark. After no more than 15 seconds of diddling her clit, shit becomes the Niagra Falls of vaginal discharge. Camera dude says it's cum. I have 5 bucks and case of diet Mr. Pibb that says it's forgotten creampie from yesteryear.
This is actually a pretty accurate title, so brace your dicks 'cause you are about to meet a one hundred and ten pound girl with a fuck hole like a wind tunnel.
Been a minute since we've seen this level of depravity. But of all the ways to "tELL mE uR fRoM nEw jErSeY wiThOuT tELLinG mE uR fRoM nEw jErsEy" this actually ranks #2 on the list. Our duo is still 1 deep fried oreo enema away from the gold medal. Shoot for the stars.
Admittedly the carb walrus she's costarring with may have her beat in the embarrassment department, but she's not far behind in this race. If anything at all for offsetting what may be the greatest set of natural tits ever documented by having the face of Jaden Smith. It can not be unseen.
Flattery was never my strong point... and it still isn't. Half the decisions here look like they were made by a person that smokes wet Newports, and yet everyone is chowin down like it's grandma's old fashion applesauce. Your fellow Walmartians will be hearing about this.
New fetish unlocked at the 2:35 mark: Wearing your friends fish purses like a pair of Jimmy Choo platforms. Except in this version you don't have to cough up a mortgage payment on 5th avenue before getting ankle deep during fashion week. Bargain of the century. [more: Y809Y]
Pork sword bros break the first rule in Ghostbusters 101, clown horn honking gets a new identity and whatever the fuck fight the girl at 1:12 is practicing for is something I feel should be featured on this site in the future. Somebody fetch my finest Walmart polyester linen, I wish to ejaculate.
These porn producers, always so preoccupied with if they could, but never stopping to wonder if they should. I can't even imagine how awkward this scene must of been to film for everyone involved.
Tip of the Day: Allowing any part of your body to find it's way in between a fully-enraged Tory Lane and a device that was designed to un-crust last night's Pinto Bean Soufflé isn't a constructive use of your time. You stand about as much chance of going home unscathed as a WSB does being profitable.
You clicked the original one so many damn times, I had to dive deeper into her discography. Unfortunately it turns out all her roads lead to this evolutionary cul-de-sac using her as the only form of exercise he's seen since Jock Jams was a thing. Don't look that up. [-PART I-]
