Would you rather breathe through a face mask made from Amber's leggings crotch area or get COVID-19 and risk death?
Oh my god this is the toughest choice. I'm immunocompromised so covid would kill me but amber's fanny probably would cause brain damage.
The whole scene is depressing as fuck. Supermorbidly obese on a couch in a dirty, dingy room, surrounded by fast food wrappers, legs spread and looking like she's just waiting for it to be over with so she can have money to buy more fast food, both so she can continue to earn money from the "fans" who get sexual pleasure in her slow descent to death and so she can numb out the feelings associated with what's happened to her and what her life has become. It's like what you'd see if you asked someone to show you how your life turned out in the darkest timeline, except this is actually Candy's life.Is that a wax strip or something he's holding? And is that fast food wrappers on the little table? And there's a weird my little fucking pony FFS!!!
I can confirm the my little ponyIs that a wax strip or something he's holding? And is that fast food wrappers on the little table? And there's a weird my little fucking pony FFS!!!
There are many things horrible, that are preferable to breathing through Amber's clotted crotch fabric.
You didn't say we couldn't wash them first, but I actually did laundry for a deathfat friend as a favor before and I could not get the rank BO out of it (I gave up after 3 heavy wash cycles). That was just shirts that were worn for a day or two, I cannot imagine what any fabric in contact with the crotch would be like, and as rarely as Amber showers she doesn't seem to change ever. That stank is fucking permanent, man. It's probably so concentrated it would be like soaking a rag with ammonia and holding it to your face, you'd fucking pass out. I'll unironically take bat coof because odds are I'd get off pretty easy and I could probably take as much time off work as I want.
You'd think we'd all learn eventually that some spoilers just aren't worth clicking. Alas...
whatSince Christine and Necky are sharing a bed, I wonder if Christine's hand might accidentally brush against Necky's inner thigh and then Necky's pasty breasts might gently graze Christine's back. The brief, flirty touching, the closeness... would it culminate in a slug fight where their dripping-wet mons pubi slap together frantically, sending moisture flying in all directions until the entire bedroom is soaked with a salty, piscine spray? The unmistakeable noise of interlabial suction would be inaudible to a recliner-bound Amber, whose Darth Vader-like breathing would mute the passionate ecstasy of those pendulous, stretch-marked bodies having a fish fry in the next room.