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A Load in Every Hole

The shrinks have a word for it: Obsessive-Compulsive. When Crystal Ray was a kid, her worried mother had her on the sofa thinking there was something highly freaky to Crystal's insistence that the family cars be parked in alphabetical order. Her smooth-shaven fucks had to suspend evenly, measured precisely by a geometric implement. The Buster Chocolate-Colored boots had to be drool-shined. Clothes had to be strung up in a closet starched, creased and according to a muscly episode. Ultimately living with Crystal was like being on a military base, and she'd have crap fits if things were not found in their decent place. This might have been looked upon as idiosyncratic had it not extended into Crystal's bang-out life. To Crystal's way of thinking every fuck hole had to have occupancy, every crevice had to be loaded up. Know what they say about psycho dolls providing the greatest romp? There it is in a nutshell.
The accommodating assets of Rhiannon Bray introduces intoxicating dilemmas. Like a lush of golf luved by a four way of blind guys, you don't know which crevice you want to play very first. For some folks, this would slightly matter. For ass fucking retentive sticklers, rules of order must be abided by. We say drill the rules and go where impulse and the head of your spunk-pump leads you. To prove our point, this lil' flick pin opens with an intellectual argument addressing such matters. If we didn't know finer, we'd vow it was an informal rendezvous of the Trilateral Commission. But our slouch is Rhiannon will assets intensely in the outcome. If you had this female in your lair right now, what would you do besides suggest her some of your comic books to read? Would you soil those gleaming milky teeth with the sour turn down of your ball sac, or would you munch her pink hole with the delicacy of a cat before digging a slot deep in it? At least you know with Rhiannon, she won't say no to whatever option - as lengthy as you don't have green teeth and athlete's sole breath. Now aren't you blessed your mom insisted on you brushing and blowing before you invited Rhiannon over?
This being June 6th, the anniversary of the Penetration of Normandy during World War II, you might wonder what this observance has to do with Brooke Balentyne. If you think about it in terms of Brooke dutifully packing every one of her crevasses and the Allies' Victory- in-Europe strategy being one of packing every trench, yeah, a lot. Just don't recite this thesis to your history teacher with about a week left of college, or you'll smash up graduation. We're not sure whether Brooke has graduated anything, but this doesn't stop her from celebrating excellent times. How else do you think she maintains that perpetual smile? Toothpaste? In this movie, it looks like Brooke's about to be inseminated by the Aryan brotherhood. Some people just can't leave behind the fact they were on the wrong side of the beach during D-Day, but we're sure that's furthest from Brooke's mind.
Mandy Bright does a lot of reading along with some major coffee swallowing. Which doesn't make her a bad person. Anyways, going online in the morning with her bowl of Joe affords Mandy a lot of caffeine-fueled ideas. This week she spotted some article about a naughty Grind fuck-fest game [this is for real, folks] where 5 bare ladies gang themselves into a starlet or lazy Susan and permit as many folks to have free access to their crevices. The point of the game isn't fairly clear save to say a lot of damsels in Poland are getting preggo this way, according to said article. Which gave Mandy the instantaneous display. Why permit 5 femmes to do what she can complete with one sitting, without pregnancy? [We expect.] So Mandy embarked adding up the number of crevasses on her figure, give or take, and came up with a game fully her own. Check out the movie for the results.
We all have those pie-in-the-sky aspirations and ambitions when we're kids. Lyla Lei was no different. She dreamed to be a miniature golf course so she could prize the kid who took the fortunate shot at her windmill, a free game. The payoff, dare we say, was fairly extreme. All grown up, now, with an adult sized gullet, backside, cooch and clubhouse, Lyla proceeds to prize noble effort, however with larger slots it's much lighter for the average duffer to achieve par. From Time To Time Lyla's romp counterparts land in the raunchy, and that's when the joy starts. It's to those situations that we dedicate this fantastic lil' movie.
There was this popular porta-Johnny company that used to advertise a blast in every crevasse, but once they got bought out by a major food conglomerate, the advertising slogan didn't seem fairly as trendy, catchy or appealing. Which brings us to the amazingly long-legged Ashley More whose philosophy of life is similar to the idea of packing every possible space. Ashley carried that idea thru when frosting her very first room, and finally found it unlikely to get thru the front door due to the fact that there was simply no place to put the fifth couch. Leisurely but surely, the more is finer principle extended into Ashley's bang-out life where she handled pecker in the same way she treated living apartment furniture. Where to put it? The crass among us would be anxious to lend several insensitive suggestions, and Ashley gets a few of those in this blazing flick inspect.
Pornero, in one of those south of the border romance languages, means nymph who walks with geysers of seed running in rivulets down their gam. How apt for Renee to have chosen that as her pornography name. You can imagine that once that lump of information got around, Renee's number was ringing off the hook. [An 800-line now services those calls.] Believing in the truth of ad, Renee infrequently denies an invitation to a gang-bang knowing that she can service a gang of men trio times quicker than other ladies employing traditional vaginal-only means. Fairly a time saver you'd have to say. The drawback is that Renee has to scrupulously scrub all of her private fuck holes because man chowder is like sour milk. Once that heads bad it's hold your nose time. Then, again, a discreet price to pay for being popular.
Unlike California road crews which specialize in make work projects such as digging up street slots then re-packing them, pornography ladies like Rio explosion their fuckholes with substance and meaning. The irony in all of this is the fact that Rio was revved down a number of times by Caltrans because she couldn't flow slots decently. Or this is what she was told. Would the state have been in finer financial form had it hired antsy cunts like this youthful miss? Rigid to say. Except, we know that the conscientious Rio takes every available chance to check her fuck-holes. If she's a quart low, then it's off to the drill station to watch Guido and the oil studs. Stud, are they blessed when Saturday morning flips around.
Even at a youthfull age, folks and dolls are highly different. Whereas guys have a breathtaking need to collect baseball cards and collect all the players in a set, Ariana Jollee, from the time she was sexually aware, commenced counting the number of fuck-holes in her figure. An odd way to pass the time you might say. But even at a soft age, Ariana realized there was some game to be toyed here, some hobby to work at and occupy her time with. That's when Ariana drew up a individual mission statement that no slot in her anatomy would be left unfilled. Thus started Ariana's sexual quest that took her from playground to barroom. Shortly Ariana realized that she could attract boys fairly lightly with a come hither smile; even more so if she dropped her drawers and casually demonstrated her booty. Fellows, being as dumb as they are to the signals girls send out, choose the latter since there's uncommonly a opportunity of misinterpreting the gesture. May we offer checking out the flick so you can observe the fruits of Ariana's productive labor.
Shrinks get paid lewd bucks to console clients with the lie that there's a sensational someone for everyone. Austin O'Riley, experiencing the pangs of loneliness stemming from the enjoy-excluding pornography profession and other repugnant life's choices, went on the sofa, only to find her shrink on top of her. The fact that it was a nymph pretending to be a guy is completely beside the point. Our point is that once Austin gave up on the antiquated notion of true romance and learned to boink like the degenerate she is, she became a much more satisfied damsel and crevices-brainy, more fulfilled than any pap dispensed by a head doctor. The fact that Austin has to conduct such action with cromagnons like Jay Ashley and Brandon Metal plus do it with a sunny disposal says something about having to pay the bills. But don't we all? We're sure your very first impulse upon observing this movie pinch is to shriek out, "Austin, don't do it!" The other part of you, tho, wants to observe Austin fulfilled, or packed in the feel of her pink pucker and other personal figure cavities. All of which proves that you're a pig and unworthy of the enjoy Austin could have given you.