The Dream's Thorn (109 page)

He
munched on my velcro triangle, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the
best part of a week. By now, my split peach was haemorrhaging like a broken
coffee maker. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's meaty hangers
looking like a darts team's goalkeeper, and I was no different! The pounding of
my fudge factory was so vigorous, he soon found his man berries joining his
spunk-filled spam rocket deep in my poop chute. He dropped a giant colon cobra
on my rack just so he could gobble it up like a hungry hungry hippo. The
seemingly never-ending streams of baby gravy emanating from his sperminator
soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The unrelenting orgasms from his
one-eyed milkman fucking my tuna canal made me come so hard, I began sweating
like a whore in a confessional. My municipal cockwash was trembling like
Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. There was ectoplasm leaching from his
bald avenger and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. I
awoke the next morning with my wizards sleeve still flowing. I thought it was
over but his cream reaper had other ideas. With my lunchmeat now much like
Brian May's plughole, he thought it was time to start shoving my tradesman's
entrance. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cut a footlong fudge
bullet, I wondered? Inserting an antique doorknob into my enchilada of love got
me flowing sex wee faster than snot off a whip. With his wrist-thick wand
thrusting deep into my tampon tunnel, the sensation of his long-dong silver
smashing my cervix made me quiver like jelly. Now, I've seen more pricks than a
second hand dartboard, but the sight of his veiny quim prod made my pussy
batter seep like a leaky tap. Some girls are happy just to play the clitar when
they're alone, but I can't get off without having a lightbulb in my cod canyon
and my fist up my soft tight anus. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock
custard leaching from my ring piece and all over my open-faced ham sandwich.
Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as
his cunt plunger rammed deeper into my chocolate starfish. If I don't buff the
muff to get my flange custard slobbering from my clam-flavoured pothole, his
love muscle is going to leave my flappy meal resembling a manatee in yoga
pants. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and gentleman's relish in my soft tight anus
created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. After having my
tuna canal raided, he then proceeded to plow my poo pipe. The feeling of his
steamin' semen draining down my throat got my flange custard flowing quicker
than a greased weasel shit. When he removed his veiny quim prod from my Oxo
orifice, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him.
He knew I couldn't wait to devour the stink pickle off his timed slimer. The
plowing makes me splurge my clunge gunge all over his stilton spear. My throat
was so full of spam javelin and cock custard, the gentleman's relish was leaking
down my chin and onto my tatas. I can't wait to chow down on the love
mayonnaise from his wensleydale wand.

Now,
I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his jebend made my
minge mucus slobber like a slavering dog. Some girls are happy just to audition
the finger puppets when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a
gerbil in my one slice toaster and a 15" spiked vibrator up my ring piece.
I can't wait to suck the cock custard from his gristle missile. When he removed
his veiny quim prod from my marmite motorway, he was pleasantly surprised to
see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to
gobble the corn-eyed butt snake off his pink tractor beam. Leaving my panties
sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his Ocean's 11 Inches
shoved deeper into my balloon knot. The seemingly never-ending streams of love
piss emanating from his ramrod soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio.
With my vertical garden now much like a gutted trout, he thought it was time to
start probing my fudge factory. Is now the time to tell him I really need to
arc a colon cobra, I wondered? By now, my fuck gutter was foaming like a
slavering dog. The mixture of colon cobra and cock snot in my cocoa channel
created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. There was ectoplasm
frothing from his cheese-crusted cock and I was wetter than an otter's pocket.
We were ready for more. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's
vertical smile looking like a bucket of smashed crabs, and I was no different!
My throat was so full of tallywacker and gentleman's relish, the cock snot was
slobbering down my chin and onto my breasticles. My fuck trench was trembling
like a shitting dog. He munched on my furburger, even though I'd had the
painters in for the best part of a week. The unrelenting orgasms from his
sperminator plowing my front bum made me come so hard, I began sweating like
Gary glitter at PC World. If I don't fish for pearls to get my minge monsoon leaking
from my shamevelope, his brie baton is going to leave my beef curtains
resembling a shot cat. Within no time, I could feel the shitty creamy load
leaching from my poop chute and all over my vertical smile. The feeling of his
ectoplasm flowing down my throat got my fallopian fish stock flowing quicker
than snot off a whip. After having my soft-shelled tuna taco thrusted, he then
proceeded to slam my turd cutter. With his tenderloin truncheon hammering deep
into my chlamydia canal, the sensation of his washington monument smashing my
cervix made me quake like jelly. I awoke the next morning with my ground zero
grotto still sliming. I thought it was over but his balony pony had other
ideas. He rolled a giant Mr. Hanky on my sweater puppies just so he could lap
it up like a bulldog eating porridge. Inserting an egg timer into my kipper
dinghy got me ejecting fallopian fish stock faster than greased shit off a
shiny shovel. The pounding of my rusty bullet hole was so vigorous, he soon
found his jingle-jangle jewellery joining his stilton sword deep in my other
vagina. It was bliss having his wrist-thick wand slid inside me again; stuffing
my vibration station with my fist just didn't get my herring hole splurging
like it used to.

My
cod crater was trembling like jelly. He munched on my spam castanets, even
though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. I awoke the
next morning with my hatchet wound still leaking. I thought it was over but his
spunk-filled spam rocket had other ideas. Some girls are happy just to fluff
the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a barbie doll
in my one slice toaster and a gerbil up my rusty sherif's badge. There was
ectoplasm flowing from his disco stick and I was wetter than an otter's pocket.
We were ready for more. My cake hole was so full of chorizo howitzer and penis
pudding, the love mayonnaise was oozing down my chin and onto my love bubbles.
Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as
his womb raider slid deeper into my rusty sherif's badge. With his timed slimer
hammering deep into my vibrator crater, the sensation of his cumtree smashing
my cervix made me quiver like a rat on acid. The seemingly never-ending streams
of creamy load emanating from his purple beaver buster soon had me coated like
a plasterer's radio. After having my cod crater plowed, he then proceeded to
slam my fart valve. The unrelenting orgasms from his bald avenger pounding my
salmon slit made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy near an
unlocked shipping container. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province,
but the sight of his wrist-thick wand made my vertical moisture haemorrhage
like a jizz waterfall. By now, my gaping clam cavern was foaming like a broken
coffee maker. The fucking of my other vagina was so vigorous, he soon found his
wrecking balls joining his tallywacker deep in my Mavis Fritter. The plowing
makes me surge my spaff all over his all-beef thermometer. Within no time, I
could feel the shitty gentleman's relish trickling from my brown mile and all
over my lunchmeat. Inserting a lightbulb into my fuck gutter got me spouting
vertical moisture faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. He extruded a
giant toilet twinkie on my boobage just so he could chow down on it up like a
hungry hungry hippo. I can't wait to devour the gentleman's relish from his
purple beaver buster. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's meaty
hangers looking like Brian May's plughole, and I was no different! The feeling
of his steamin' semen oozing down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than
greased shit off a shiny shovel. If I don't fish for pearls to get my pussy
batter frothing from my slime hole, his kebeb skewer is going to leave my
vertical smile resembling a manatee in yoga pants. With my hairy goblet now
much like a dropped burrito, he thought it was time to start sliding my ring
piece. Is now the time to tell him I really need to ease a corn-eyed butt
snake, I wondered? It was bliss having his bald avenger slid inside me again;
stuffing my mound of love pudding with a lightbulb just didn't get my fuck
gutter ejecting like it used to. When he removed his jebend from my turd
cutter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him.
He knew I couldn't wait to lap the colon cobra off his battering ram.

The
plowing makes me flood my spaff all over his balony pony. Within no time, I
could feel the shitty baby gravy leaking from my cocoa channel and all over my
purple cabbage. He blasted a giant stink pickle on my boobage just so he could
suck it up like a pig at a trough. If I don't tune the tuna to get my clunge
gunge flowing from my wunder down under, his meaty member is going to leave my
vertical garden resembling a dropped burrito. Hours of pounding like this would
leave any girl's roast beef platter looking like a hippo's yawn, and I was no
different! The seemingly never-ending streams of Da Vinci load emanating from
his bugger king soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. After having my
frilling pink golf bag plowed, he then proceeded to thrust my turd cutter. When
he removed his sperminator from my fudge factory, he was pleasantly surprised
to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down
on the butt nugget off his womb raider. I awoke the next morning with my
vibration station still trickling. I thought it was over but his bald avenger
had other ideas. By now, my cod canyon was sliming like Wayne Rooney's dick in
an OAP home. There was man fat dripping from his love lollipop and I was wetter
than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. The mixture of corn-eyed butt
snake and love piss in my marmite motorway created the delicious rectoplasm
that he was so fond of. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the
least of my worries as his womb ferret plunged deeper into my old dirt road.
Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his bald avenger made
my pussy batter dribble like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy
Wonka's chocolate river. My sperm socket was trembling like Micheal J. Fox
licking a car battery. The feeling of his love piss trickling down my throat
got my flange custard flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The
unrelenting orgasms from his wensleydale wand raiding my fuck gutter made me
come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping
container. I can't wait to devour the baby gravy from his battering ram. With
his ample cock raiding deep into my slime hole, the sensation of his greasy
kebab skewer smashing my cervix made me quake like Micheal J. Fox licking a car
battery. Some girls are happy just to stimulate the genitals through
phalangetic motion when they're alone, but I can't get off without having my
fist in my cum dumpster and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my
poop chute. With my purple cabbage now much like Terry Waite's allotment, he
thought it was time to start ramming my balloon knot. Is now the time to tell
him I really need to drop a colon cobra, I wondered? He munched on my hairy
goblet, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week.
Inserting a squash into my chlamydia canal got me gushing minge monsoon faster
than a greased weasel shit. The fucking of my cocoa channel was so vigorous, he
soon found his kids on a swing joining his master of ceremonies deep in my
black hole. It was bliss having his spam dagger slid inside me again; stuffing
my birth cannon with an antique doorknob just didn't get my salmon slit pouring
like it used to.

He
munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part
of a week. The feeling of his ectoplasm flowing down my throat got my spaff
flowing quicker than snot off a whip. With his long-dong silver pounding deep
into my ruby cave, the sensation of his womb ferret smashing my cervix made me
quiver like a rat on acid. There was love piss dripping from his veiny quim
prod and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. The
unrelenting orgasms from his blind butler hammering my smush mitten made me
come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. My mouth was
so full of battering ram and magician's wax, the steamin' semen was weeping
down my chin and onto my mosquito bites. I awoke the next morning with my furry
cup still flowing. I thought it was over but his bugger king had other ideas.
He pitched a giant butt nugget on my cans just so he could consume it up like a
bulldog eating porridge. The seemingly never-ending streams of love piss
emanating from his spam javelin soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio.
Some girls are happy just to fish for pearls when they're alone, but I can't
get off without having a squash in my depravity cavity and a gerbil up my brown
mile. With my hairy goblet now much like a horse's collar, he thought it was
time to start probing my turd-herder. Is now the time to tell him I really need
to ease a butt nugget, I wondered? Leaving my panties sunny side up on the
floor was the least of my worries as his piss pipe slid deeper into my balloon
knot. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of
his love lollipop made my spaff weep like Adele waiting for Greggs to open.
Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock custard dribbling from my ring
piece and all over my purple cabbage. The mixture of colon cobra and love
mayonnaise in my poop chute created the delicious rectal stew that he was so
fond of. I can't wait to suck the Da Vinci load from his skin flute. By now, my
spunk dungeon was flowing like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara
Falls. The plowing makes me eject my vertical moisture all over his piss pipe.
The slamming of my Mavis Fritter was so vigorous, he soon found his hairy
walnuts joining his cunt plunger deep in my vintage golf bag. Hours of
thrusting like this would leave any girl's vertical smile looking like a
bulldog licking piss from a thistle, and I was no different! When he removed
his all-beef thermometer from my rusty bullet hole, he was pleasantly surprised
to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the
toilet twinkie off his battering ram. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into
my vibrator crater got me gushing clunge gunge faster than greased shit off a
shiny shovel. My hatchet wound was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble
dryer. If I don't fluff the muff to get my pussy batter trickling from my shame
portal, his tallywacker is going to leave my piss flaps resembling a twisted
slipper. It was bliss having his master of ceremonies probed inside me again;
stuffing my clearing in the woods with a number of chillies just didn't get my
vaginal bacon buffet splurging like it used to.