We were scorching here this weekend in L.A., and by scorching, I mean, the air-conditioning at the local cineplex where I parked my ass all weekend to get free refills on popcorn and temperature was 72-degrees. Still, I could almost hear the screams of children laughing and playing in the sprinklers outside the walls of my perfectly climate controlled cinematic environment, keying me into the full arrival of summer. And why not celebrate summer with the finest one I know, Summer St. Claire, a girl whose purple mountain majesties routinely cause my plains to bear fruit. Or something like that.
On Mammarial Mondays we celebrate the freshest and finest in those amazing round funbags that drive us men to work hard, or, at least drink and bitch about work. And Summer St. Claire and her ridiculously hot body stripping out of red lingerie and flashing some of the finest jugs on the planet? Wow, I do feel the need for a Yoo-Hoo chug coming on
On Mammarial Mondays we celebrate the freshest and finest in those amazing round funbags that drive us men to work hard, or, at least drink and bitch about work. And Summer St. Claire and her ridiculously hot body stripping out of red lingerie and flashing some of the finest jugs on the planet? Wow, I do feel the need for a Yoo-Hoo chug coming on
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