When I was in high school (when back in the day really was back in the day, and not just six months ago) I was in love with Kascha. She was the perfect woman to me and I gobbled up anything with her name/face/cunt on it.
One day my buddy calls me. He was a bouncer at a strip club in town and tells me Kascha is the feature that week. I blow in my fucking pants. For the next three nights I dedicate each whack of my weasel to the exotic beauty who had disappeared from film the previous year.
The big night comes and I haul my underage ass to the rippers to meet my fuck fantasy. My buddy directs me to the side bar and says she'll have a drink with me before her set. Holy fuck.
Lets just say the year had not been kind to her. Adorned with bad titjob scars and classy biker tattoos, my beautiful polynesian princess looked to have been ridden like a harley on a bad piece of road, then beaten with an ugly stick, then put away wet.
I knew right then that I would never believe in anything again.

Yep, she looked much better before she went under the knife. The peroxid/nicotine-stained pubes weren't doing it for me either.

When I saw her she didn't even have pubes. Suffice to say the nicotine stains were on her cunt itself.

I know how you feel man. For me it was seeing Ginger Lynn Allen in person.

Sad to hear, especially considering Ginger Lynn was a much more sex-intensive performer than Kascha. Guess even whores have their bad days.