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.
You know you had fun when the next day you wake up with a concussion and realize you not only left your phone, but you also forgot your clothes, underwear, sunglasses and self-respect at the club.
Space station sized cock. Peanut of a butthole. Yeah, we've seen this story before but the language barrier almost turns this one into a homicide. Moral of the story: Always identify your opponent before agreeing to fight them. I'm talking to you, Jake Paul victims.
From his vantage point it probably looks like someone trying to squeeze a flag pole into a gas tank. And much like after someone messes around with flammable substances, someone probably saw hospital time after this little adventure.
An all-minority female cast ultimately leading to me losing faith in life itself? You can go ahead and file this under The 2016 Ghostbusters Reboot of Porn. And Bill Murray can't save you this time.
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.
Nothing says reinventing a franchise quite like admitting to the world that you have a fetish even the truckers of America aren't paying for in Walmart parking lots. Now give this so many views, The Rock won't be able to turn down being in the sequel.
There's a lot to digest here. But nothing is as concerning as whatever rodeo clown, double-wide uncle sister bullshit is going on around the 3:11 mark. Axe body wash isn't going to clean this feeling off me tonight. Time to dip into the disaster emergency kit.
Every girl should know that a slippery fuck toy plus a cavernous butthole can equal a trip to the ER. Next time save yourself the embarrassing shuffle through the waiting room and tie a string to that mother fucker.
A special service bulletin for the female viewer(s). Next time you feel like exposing your rotten tator tot to the general public, read a couple chapters of Everything I Know About Women I Learned From My Tractor by Roger Welsch first. Maybe you'll find what's missing in your life.
