Our super-moon men wanna park their spunk lazers in the stinky fish craters,but the pushy,chatty cum-dumpsters just wanna talk and talk and talk.This gets Sophie and Trina tied up and locked in shed with bags over their heads.Who do they think we are?And what do they think their mouths are for anyway?The good news is that the purple-headed yoghurt-slingers get the ass in the end.Join to find out how.
