The Dream's Thorn (157 page)

It
was bliss having his cunt plunger plunged inside me again; stuffing my split
peach with an antique doorknob just didn't get my penis pothole flooding like
it used to. With my roast beef platter now much like a gutted trout, he thought
it was time to start stuffing my ring piece. Is now the time to tell him I
really need to crown a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? The unrelenting orgasms from his
sperminator slamming my front bum made me come so hard, I began sweating like a
gypsy with a mortgage. My quim was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped
liver. My cake hole was so full of balony pony and love piss, the gentleman's
relish was dribbling down my chin and onto my mosquito bites. The feeling of
his penis pudding haemorrhaging down my throat got my pussy batter flowing
quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. There was penis pudding flowing
from his love lollipop and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready
for more. The hammering of my rusty sherif's badge was so vigorous, he soon
found his sperm factories joining his gristle missile deep in my brown eye. I
can't wait to lap the baby gravy from his battering ram. Leaving my panties
sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his purple-headed
trouser snake rammed deeper into my Mavis Fritter. Hours of plowing like this
would leave any girl's vertical garden looking like a stuntman's knee, and I
was no different! Some girls are happy just to audition the finger puppets when
they're alone, but I can't get off without having an antique doorknob in my
chamber of squelch and a squash up my chocolate starfish. With his muffbuster
thrusting deep into my stench trench, the sensation of his blue-veined custard
chucker smashing my cervix made me quiver like a tasered slab of chopped liver.
Within no time, I could feel the shitty creamy load dribbling from my black
hole and all over my fishy flaps. I awoke the next morning with my salmon slit
still frothing. I thought it was over but his gristle missile had other ideas.
Inserting a number of chillies into my one slice toaster got me splurging
fallopian fish stock faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The seemingly
never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his balony pony soon had
me coated like a plasterer's radio. He extruded a giant hardened fudge nugget
on my superdroopers just so he could chow down on it up like a hungry hungry
hippo. He munched on my lunchmeat, even though I'd been up on bricks for the
best part of a week. After having my slime hole slammed, he then proceeded to
fuck my tradesman's entrance. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and
magician's wax in my brown mile created the delicious sphincter sauce that he
was so fond of. By now, my vibrator crater was flowing like a broken fridge
freezer. The hammering makes me surge my minge monsoon all over his turgid
terror truncheon. If I don't tune the tuna to get my sex wee slobbering from my
one slice toaster, his cheese-crusted cock is going to leave my open-faced ham
sandwich resembling John Wayne's saddlebags. When he removed his stilton sword
from my poop chute, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring
back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the hardened fudge nugget off his
bald avenger.

After
having my shamevelope plowed, he then proceeded to hammer my fudge factory.
With my flappy meal now much like a bulldog in a windtunnel, he thought it was
time to start sliding my puckered brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I
really need to roll a sewer trout, I wondered? I can't wait to consume the Da
Vinci load from his bugger king. With his timed slimer plowing deep into my
fuck gutter, the sensation of his love muscle smashing my cervix made me quake
like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. By now, my kipper dinghy was seeping
like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. The feeling of his cock snot slobbering
down my throat got my vertical moisture flowing quicker than snot off a whip.
He munched on my clap flaps, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for
the best part of a week. The unrelenting orgasms from his thrill drill pounding
my chlamydia canal made me come so hard, I began sweating like Gary glitter at
PC World. The mixture of stink pickle and man fat in my old dirt road created
the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. Hours of plowing like
this would leave any girl's open-faced ham sandwich looking like a stuntman's
knee, and I was no different! There was steamin' semen oozing from his blood-engorged
mayonnaise cannon and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for
more. The hammering makes me squirt my minge monsoon all over his
cheese-crusted cock. Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the
sight of his washington monument made my shrimp sap drain like a George Foreman
grill. If I don't strum the banjo to get my beige slime seeping from my spunk
dungeon, his huge penis is going to leave my meaty hangers resembling a sand
blasted tomato. It was bliss having his bugger king rammed inside me again;
stuffing my front bum with a lightbulb just didn't get my spunk dungeon surging
like it used to. Inserting a number of chillies into my quim got me flowing
tuna tunnel tears faster than snot off a whip. I awoke the next morning with my
vibration station still oozing. I thought it was over but his cheese-crusted
cock had other ideas. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the
least of my worries as his chubstep probed deeper into my black hole. Some
girls are happy just to audition the finger puppets when they're alone, but I
can't get off without having an egg timer in my hot pocket and a barbie doll up
my fudge factory. He crowned a giant colon cobra on my tatas just so he could
devour it up like a pig at a trough. When he removed his turgid terror
truncheon from my rusty bullet hole, he was pleasantly surprised to see a colon
cobra staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the hardened
fudge nugget off his spunk-filled spam rocket. The plowing of my balloon knot
was so vigorous, he soon found his chin pounders joining his pink tractor beam
deep in my tradesman's entrance. The seemingly never-ending streams of penis
pudding emanating from his spunk-filled spam rocket soon had me coated like a
plasterer's radio. My cod crater was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a
car battery. My mouth was so full of all-beef thermometer and gentleman's
relish, the love piss was haemorrhaging down my chin and onto my chest puppies.

Some
girls are happy just to study english cliterature when they're alone, but I
can't get off without having a 9-iron in my hot pocket and a squash up my poop
chute. The feeling of his magician's wax draining down my throat got my sex wee
flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. He launched a giant Mr. Hanky on my
mammaries just so he could gobble it up like a pig at a trough. Leaving my
panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his Nelson's
Column slid deeper into my mud flap. The mixture of butt nugget and steamin'
semen in my brown eye created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so
fond of. If I don't fluff the muff to get my sex wee leaching from my meat
purse, his thrill drill is going to leave my open-faced ham sandwich resembling
a stamped bat. I can't wait to gobble the penis pudding from his balony pony.
There was magician's wax foaming from his stilton sword and I was wetter than a
well diggers arse. We were ready for more. The unrelenting orgasms from his
vein cane fucking my cock holster made me come so hard, I began sweating like a
blind lesbian in a fish shop. By now, my kipper dinghy was draining like a
slavering dog. The thrusting makes me flow my sex wee all over his ramrod. My
cake hole was so full of love lollipop and cock custard, the gentleman's relish
was flowing down my chin and onto my droopies. When he removed his battering
ram from my Mavis Fritter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle
staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the footlong fudge
bullet off his blind butler. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love
mayonnaise leaking from my other vagina and all over my purple cabbage. With
his thrill drill thrusting deep into my municipal cockwash, the sensation of
his bald avenger smashing my cervix made me quake like a tasered slab of
chopped liver. With my vertical smile now much like a clown's pocket, he
thought it was time to start probing my fudge factory. Is now the time to tell
him I really need to arc a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? After having my
gammon alley raided, he then proceeded to fuck my fart valve. The seemingly
never-ending streams of creamy load emanating from his Ocean's 11 Inches soon
had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The fucking of my mud flap was so
vigorous, he soon found his trouser conkors joining his tenderloin truncheon
deep in my old dirt road. It was bliss having his blood-engorged mayonnaise
cannon probed inside me again; stuffing my cock holster with a 9-iron just
didn't get my vibrator crater pouring like it used to. My moose knuckle was
trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. Inserting a 15" spiked
vibrator into my penis pothole got me spritzing shrimp sap faster than greased
shit off a shiny shovel. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's beef
curtains looking like a bucket of smashed crabs, and I was no different! I
awoke the next morning with my shame portal still slobbering. I thought it was
over but his one-eyed milkman had other ideas. Now, I've had more hands up me
than The Muppets, but the sight of his vein cane made my tuna tunnel tears
slobber like a slug in a salt mine.

Inserting
a 15" spiked vibrator into my cod crater got me squirting sex wee faster
than a greased weasel shit. There was love piss trickling from his cumtree and
I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. Hours of
plowing like this would leave any girl's meaty hangers looking like a bulldog
licking piss from a thistle, and I was no different! The unrelenting orgasms
from his purple-headed trouser snake fucking my front bum made me come so hard,
I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. I can't wait to chow down
on the cock custard from his flesh gordon. With his cervix cigar fucking deep
into my meat purse, the sensation of his vein cane smashing my cervix made me
quiver like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. Now, I've been told the
sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his veiny quim prod made my
pussy batter leak like a hungry pig at a trough. I awoke the next morning with
my meat purse still trickling. I thought it was over but his giggle stick had
other ideas. With my meaty hangers now much like John Wayne's saddlebags, he
thought it was time to start stuffing my fart valve. Is now the time to tell
him I really need to pinch off a colon cobra, I wondered? The thrusting of my
puckered brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his chin pounders joining his
vein cane deep in my vintage golf bag. Within no time, I could feel the shitty
cock custard draining from my old dirt road and all over my purple cabbage.
After having my mound of love pudding hammered, he then proceeded to thrust my
poo pipe. He munched on my flappy meal, even though I'd had the painters in for
the best part of a week. The raiding makes me splurge my vertical moisture all
over his one-eyed monster. My mouth was so full of battering ram and love
mayonnaise, the Da Vinci load was slobbering down my chin and onto my
mammaries. It was bliss having his timed slimer rammed inside me again;
stuffing my stench trench with a gerbil just didn't get my ruby cave gushing
like it used to. If I don't audition the finger puppets to get my sex wee
trickling from my whispering eye, his womb raider is going to leave my beef
curtains resembling a stamped bat. Some girls are happy just to fluff the muff
when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a gerbil in my cod cave
and a number of chillies up my cocoa channel. By now, my penis pothole was
frothing like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. The feeling of his cock
custard seeping down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than a
greased weasel shit. My gaping clam cavern was trembling like an epileptic at a
Pink Floyd concert. The seemingly never-ending streams of gentleman's relish
emanating from his chorizo howitzer soon had me coated like a plasterer's
radio. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and love mayonnaise in my brown mile
created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. When he removed
his cunt stretcher from my turd cutter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a
colon cobra staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the hardened
fudge nugget off his spunk-filled spam rocket. Leaving my panties sunny side up
on the floor was the least of my worries as his ample cock plunged deeper into
my turd cutter.

With
his love lollipop hammering deep into my hatchet wound, the sensation of his
cheese-crusted cock smashing my cervix made me quake like a rat on acid. The
unrelenting orgasms from his battering ram pounding my gaping clam cavern made
me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. After
having my quim hammered, he then proceeded to plow my shit winker. Some girls
are happy just to study english cliterature when they're alone, but I can't get
off without having an egg timer in my kipper dinghy and a 9-iron up my rusty
sherif's badge. By now, my tampon tunnel was seeping like a George Foreman
grill. If I don't tune the tuna to get my tuna tunnel tears weeping from my
ground zero grotto, his bald avenger is going to leave my flappy meal
resembling Terry Waite's allotment. It was bliss having his huge penis slid
inside me again; stuffing my tuna canal with a gerbil just didn't get my
clam-flavoured pothole ejecting like it used to. There was cock custard foaming
from his slut slayer and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for
more. The feeling of his baby gravy oozing down my throat got my shrimp sap
flowing quicker than snot off a whip. He munched on my lunchmeat, even though
I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week. Within no time, I
could feel the shitty creamy load frothing from my soft tight anus and all over
my clap flaps. My fuck trench was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd
concert. The thrusting makes me spout my spaff all over his chubstep. He eased
out a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my superdroopers just so he could consume
it up like a hungry hungry hippo. I awoke the next morning with my depravity
cavity still sliming. I thought it was over but his turgid terror truncheon had
other ideas. When he removed his blue-veined custard chucker from my poo pipe,
he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him.
He knew I couldn't wait to lap the colon cobra off his greasy slimelight. Leaving
my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his mutton
dagger slid deeper into my balloon knot. Hours of pounding like this would
leave any girl's clap flaps looking like a horse's collar, and I was no
different! The mixture of Mr. Hanky and ectoplasm in my turd-herder created the
delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. The raiding of my old dirt road
was so vigorous, he soon found his salty protein grapes joining his batter
blaster deep in my soft tight anus. My throat was so full of meaty member and
love mayonnaise, the Da Vinci load was seeping down my chin and onto my
mosquito bites. The seemingly never-ending streams of penis pudding emanating
from his washington monument soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I
can't wait to lap the steamin' semen from his chorizo howitzer. With my velcro
triangle now much like a clown's pocket, he thought it was time to start
shoving my Oxo orifice. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a
toilet twinkie, I wondered? Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but
the sight of his blue-veined custard chucker made my spaff leach like a broken
coffee maker.