Multiple Personality Day Edition
Be we grumpy, ecstatic, weepy or mad, all our personalities be lovin’ babes.
Fleshbot | Pure Filth
Be we grumpy, ecstatic, weepy or mad, all our personalities be lovin’ babes.
This may be a bit of an unconventional creampie, but hey, we’re all for pushing boundaries and eschewing tradition and whatnot, all in pursuit of hottie-boombalatti fuckshots. This is a creampie that marches to the beat of its own drum, and to the beat of some damn fine cowgirl and doggystyle power-boning.
Taylor Vixen, when you masturbate we hear a choir of angels singing, descending with their harps to strum a hauntingly divine melody. Also when you masturbate, with those lovely red lips parted just so, whilst floating down with our harp we kind of want to descend our cock into your mouth. We really think it would elevate the whole scene, you know? We wouldn’t interrupt that gorgeousity going on with your hands and pretty pussy; we’d just give you a bit more to consider. We think we could give you a very thought-provoking smack to the booty as well. We’re full of captivating plans!
Oh yes, a beautiful woman rolling around on a bed all sexy-like while Serge Gainsbourg and Jane Birkin croon and climax: it’s a classic scene, one we never tire of. Best of all, we get another chance to see how Amy Hood and Jonathan Leder work together! Because Lord knows we aren’t satisfied with only a single video of Amy. We’re greedy.
Her name is Sovereign, for crying out loud! Of course she’s going to rule us. We knew it was only a matter of time before she would claim this crown, and we’d be lying if we said we didn’t feel a little responsible for her ascension (at least in those early days). But this isn’t about us, this is about our beloved Sovvy owning the month; the Ides of March ain’t got shit on this badass babe right here!
Photographer Gabriel Everett calls this video “Chrysalis” and we wonder why. We’re certainly not lepidopterists of any sort, but nothing about young Alex’s watery wallowing strikes us as pupal; she’s in her prime, her wings are unfurled, her tits are bananas, and if she metamorphoses into anything else, it’s probably going to destroy society as we know it. (Who knows what her breasts will look like next?)
This chick would be able to get anyone’s rocks off even whilst bound up in some Houdini-style manacles. And that would be pretty damn hot, too. And though we’d find it thrilling to see her perform some great escapes, we think we’re more impressed at the techniques and magicking that she employs when conjuring a hearty load from a turgid cock.
Someone once suggested that the porn industry could overcome the extreme expenses brought on by Measure B by hiring interns to do all the work–you know, the same way the rest of the country gets by. Fortunately, this person was run out of town by an angry mob, because the idea of putting interns in the place of professional pornstars is nothing but irresponsible and exploitative. These ladies deserve good money to be filled with jizz, and we’re not tolerating no scabs trying to cut them out of their pay!
Are you still keeping your sex fantasies all bottled up? Girl, you know that’s not healthy; you need to express yourself! Tell somebody about your deepest and fappiest feelings. Better yet, tell Cliterati founder Emily Dubberley about your freakiness so she can write a book about female sex fantasies. You’ll be helping yourself, Emily, and humanity!
We know you’re busy, Richardson Magazine knows you’re busy, so nobody’s trying to make you spend hours and hundreds of dollars at a strip joint. Those crazy mix-masters at Richardson found a way to give you an energetic, drippy, bouncy, pelvis-whipping dance in only two minutes. If you’ve ever read “The Windup Girl,” it’s kind of like watching Emiko do her thing at Raleigh’s: heechy-keechy.
We met at a dark, sultry bar. Jazz was playing. She was in leggings, as I had asked. When I walked in, she was sitting there with work in front of her, reading by candlelight (an ability of which I’m increasingly envious). We went through some preliminary limit-testing and teasing: would she kneel in front of me in the bar? No. So I knocked her pencil on the floor and asked her to pick it up. Would she go to the bathroom and come back with her fingers smelling of her pussy? Yes. Sitting across from her, I spread her knees with mine, wider than was comfortable. Wider than was appropriate.
The first time Jimmy gets called over to Estefania’s house, it’s because of a surprise visit from the INS. The second time he gets called over, it’s because Estefania had a bunch of boring sex with some dude and she needs Jimmy to finish her off. It’s a callous request to make, and suggests that Estefania sees Jimmy as her personal fucktoy, but we’ll be damned if Jimmy isn’t the luckiest so-and-so alive.
Whoa, do you realize that we’ve passed an important milestone here? With Liz’s lovely legs here, we’ve officially seen the panties of every member of British pop group Atomic Kitten! How should we celebrate? With a company trip to Atomic Wings! (Just kidding; they’re not paying us, we’re not endorsing them, we’ll probably smoke a cigarette in Atomic Kitten’s honor.)
Or shouldn’t that be crumpets? Oh, what do we know. We’ll defer to Ms. Tate on all things British, as she’s the expert. And we must say, we’re quite enjoying learning from her the intricacies and etiquette of the high tea and muffin party. We’ve got our pinkies up and ready to be thrust into any puss that comes our way. That seems to be how it’s done.
Sometimes, we are all like a topless model standing on the beach. We stare off into the distance, freezing our nipples off, wondering when we can finally stop wasting time and get back to work. Little do we realize that this lull has its own purpose; someone somewhere is taking pictures, and those pictures will end up making a bunch of perverted bloggers very happy.
Just when it seems like “Californication” is giving Charlie a taste of the good life, Runkle does something dumb with his dick and ruins everything for everybody. Should we pity him? We don’t know. The only person we pity right now is Housewife Hannah, who accidentally got a mouthful of Runkle.