Alpha Pussy Wrecker

I NEVER wear a condom!

Professional title: Exotic Dancer. Street title: Cock Auctioneer in a jockstrap.

I’m one stroke from turning your makeup into a jizz soup. Smile, slút.

Not only did he kunt the white trash, but he even elevated her gene pool.

His hole went from virgin tight to double-fisted loose overnight. Two throbbing dicks tag-teaming it until it’s a raw, prolapsed cum sock begging for round three.

The fäg's pussy lips gave up pretending to be cute. Now it’s a slack, defeated blowhole that gurgles “thank you” every time a stranger uses it as target practice.

The little bitch melted in Daddy's arms.

You’ll walk away limping, but the real limp is in your sense of self. It’ll never stand straight after tonight—no matter how many showers or apologies you try.

That bubble butt’s basically a public utility. The whole neighborhood’s been paying the pole tax.

Nothing plugs a horny kunt quite like a fat silicone stopper.

That depraved slút loves getting his hole wrecked so much he calls it colon mining.

The fäg’s body gave up entirely: puke geysered, snot poured, tears blinded him, drool foamed, and a final pathetic spurt of piss trickled down his leg.

Let those pussy-lips grow!

Latex fisting bro.

Lads on GHB swearing “bro, I’m solid” while some 40-year-old husband is balls-deep turning his arse into a sloppy glory-hole bucket, piss and cum sloshing with every thrust.

Hold still while he glazes your skull till you look like a porn set pastry.

Eyes wide, tongue out, time to drown that pretty face in thick dick snot.

Asshole stays prolapsed and dripping like a busted faucet because Master likes the way it farts out yesterday’s loads when he kicks the boy awake for another raw reaming.

Because real men can do whatever they want with you.

Broken Asian fukk-puppet: legs splayed, torso split, face frozen in a silent red scream.

His fist is safer than a random's raw dick, he reckons.

Daddy bent him over and whispered, “By the time I’m finished, mate, your arse will forget it ever belonged to a straight boy.”

You begged for raw. Now your dry little kunt’s learning why smart boys don’t play tough.