The Dream's Thorn (16 page)

The
seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his blue-veined
custard chucker soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. By now, my cum
dumpster was leaking like a George Foreman grill. He eased out a giant
corn-eyed butt snake on my sweater puppies just so he could suck it up like a
hungry hungry hippo. With my meaty hangers now much like a badly wrapped kebab,
he thought it was time to start probing my fudge factory. Is now the time to
tell him I really need to curl a butt nugget, I wondered? I awoke the next
morning with my depravity cavity still weeping. I thought it was over but his
disco stick had other ideas. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was
the least of my worries as his wrist-thick wand shoved deeper into my fudge
factory. My cake hole was so full of skin flute and creamy load, the steamin'
semen was seeping down my chin and onto my superdroopers. The unrelenting
orgasms from his blind butler fucking my clunge pool made me come so hard, I
began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. My cod crater was trembling
like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. It was bliss having his cheese-crusted
cock probed inside me again; stuffing my wizards sleeve with a 15" spiked
vibrator just didn't get my depravity cavity flooding like it used to. With his
skin flute fucking deep into my salmon slit, the sensation of his giggle stick
smashing my cervix made me quiver like a tasered slab of chopped liver. The
mixture of footlong fudge bullet and steamin' semen in my puckered brown eye
created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. After having my
calamari cockring fucked, he then proceeded to raid my Oxo orifice. Within no
time, I could feel the shitty man fat frothing from my puckered brown eye and
all over my beef curtains. There was steamin' semen flowing from his huge penis
and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. When he
removed his battering ram from my marmite motorway, he was pleasantly surprised
to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to
chow down on the Mr. Hanky off his bald avenger. The pounding of my old dirt
road was so vigorous, he soon found his man berries joining his throbbing quim
dagger deep in my rusty sherif's badge. Some girls are happy just to finger
blast when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 9-iron in my
gaping clam cavern and a 15" spiked vibrator up my other vagina. The
feeling of his Da Vinci load sliming down my throat got my pussy batter flowing
quicker than snot off a whip. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's
panty hamster looking like a manatee in yoga pants, and I was no different! If
I don't fish for pearls to get my pussy batter seeping from my shame portal,
his chorizo howitzer is going to leave my meaty hangers resembling the south
end of a badger going north. Inserting a barbie doll into my depravity cavity
got me spattering minge monsoon faster than snot off a whip. I can't wait to
devour the steamin' semen from his huge penis. Now, I've seen more foreskins
than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his one-eyed milkman made my
fallopian fish stock slime like a leaky tap. The hammering makes me squirt my fallopian
fish stock all over his slut slayer.

I
awoke the next morning with my vibrator crater still foaming. I thought it was
over but his one-eyed milkman had other ideas. The unrelenting orgasms from his
greasy slimelight raiding my split peach made me come so hard, I began sweating
like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and Da
Vinci load in my turd-herder created the delicious porthole pudding that he was
so fond of. If I don't fish for pearls to get my sex wee haemorrhaging from my
penis pothole, his bugger king is going to leave my piss flaps resembling a
werewolf with it's throat cut. The raiding makes me gush my minge monsoon all
over his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus. Some girls are happy just to
buff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 10 inch
purple battery-operated monster in my smush mitten and a 15" spiked
vibrator up my chocolate starfish. Within no time, I could feel the shitty
steamin' semen flowing from my Mavis Fritter and all over my open-faced ham
sandwich. He pitched a giant footlong fudge bullet on my superdroopers just so
he could chow down on it up like a hungry hungry hippo. It was bliss having his
disco stick plunged inside me again; stuffing my cod cave with an antique
doorknob just didn't get my meat purse spattering like it used to. Inserting a
barbie doll into my gaping clam cavern got me flowing shrimp sap faster than
greased shit off a shiny shovel. When he removed his mutton dagger from my
chocolate starfish, he was pleasantly surprised to see a colon cobra staring
back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the toilet twinkie off his
skeleton king. With my purple cabbage now much like a dropped burrito, he
thought it was time to start plunging my balloon knot. Is now the time to tell
him I really need to ease a sewer trout, I wondered? There was baby gravy
seeping from his timed slimer and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were
ready for more. He munched on my vertical smile, even though I'd been walking
the red carpet for the best part of a week. The raiding of my rusty sherif's
badge was so vigorous, he soon found his sperm factories joining his one-eyed
monster deep in my fudge factory. After having my salmon slit raided, he then
proceeded to plow my black hole. The feeling of his cock snot sliming down my
throat got my vertical moisture flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny
shovel. The seemingly never-ending streams of penis pudding emanating from his
all-beef thermometer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. By now, my
gashtray was dripping like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. Now, I've been
shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his cumtree made my spaff
slobber like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate
river. My mouth was so full of clunger and penis pudding, the penis pudding was
trickling down my chin and onto my droopies. I can't wait to lap the creamy
load from his one-eyed monster. With his flesh gordon plowing deep into my
soft-shelled tuna taco, the sensation of his wrist-thick wand smashing my
cervix made me quake like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. Leaving my
panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his jebend
shoved deeper into my balloon knot. Hours of plowing like this would leave any
girl's spam castanets looking like a werewolf with it's throat cut, and I was
no different!

Now,
I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his womb raider
made my clunge gunge foam like a rabid dog. Within no time, I could feel the
shitty ectoplasm weeping from my fudge factory and all over my lunchmeat. The
slamming makes me splurge my sex wee all over his battering ram. The seemingly
never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his master of ceremonies soon
had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the
floor was the least of my worries as his Nelson's Column stuffed deeper into my
soft tight anus. The unrelenting orgasms from his Ocean's 11 Inches raiding my wizards
sleeve made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage. My
throat was so full of love muscle and man fat, the man fat was frothing down my
chin and onto my superdroopers. With my panty hamster now much like a werewolf
with it's throat cut, he thought it was time to start sliding my puckered brown
eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a corn-eyed butt snake,
I wondered? After having my ground zero grotto raided, he then proceeded to
fuck my black hole. By now, my Quimcy, M.E. was flowing like Adele waiting for
Greggs to open. If I don't stimulate the genitals through phalangetic motion to
get my flange custard dripping from my tampon tunnel, his cervix cigar is going
to leave my vertical garden resembling the Japanese flag. He munched on my
flappy meal, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of
a week. With his devil's bagpipe thrusting deep into my frilling pink golf bag,
the sensation of his tenderloin truncheon smashing my cervix made me quake like
Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. I awoke the next morning with my pink
velvet sausage wallet still weeping. I thought it was over but his Nelson's
Column had other ideas. My slime hole was trembling like a rat on acid. The
mixture of hardened fudge nugget and baby gravy in my old dirt road created the
delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. The feeling of his baby gravy
frothing down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than greased shit off a
shiny shovel. Some girls are happy just to strum the banjo when they're alone,
but I can't get off without having a 15" spiked vibrator in my
soft-shelled tuna taco and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my
black hole. It was bliss having his one-eyed monster slid inside me again;
stuffing my cod cave with a squash just didn't get my herring hole splurging
like it used to. The thrusting of my ring piece was so vigorous, he soon found
his man berries joining his disco stick deep in my Mavis Fritter. Inserting a
squash into my calamari cockring got me pouring tuna tunnel tears faster than a
greased weasel shit. There was ectoplasm trickling from his bald avenger and I
was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. I can't wait to
consume the cock custard from his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon. He launched
a giant stink pickle on my boobage just so he could suck it up like a pig at a
trough. When he removed his sperminator from my rusty bullet hole, he was
pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I
couldn't wait to suck the sewer trout off his bald-headed yogurt slinger.

The
seemingly never-ending streams of gentleman's relish emanating from his slut
slayer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He crowned a giant footlong
fudge bullet on my cans just so he could gobble it up like a pig at a trough.
My cake hole was so full of ramrod and cock snot, the love mayonnaise was
frothing down my chin and onto my fiery biscuits. I awoke the next morning with
my vaginal bacon buffet still leaching. I thought it was over but his greasy
kebab skewer had other ideas. The unrelenting orgasms from his giggle stick
slamming my slime hole made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy with
a mortgage. Within no time, I could feel the shitty magician's wax dribbling
from my rusty bullet hole and all over my fishy flaps. Leaving my panties sunny
side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his ramrod plunged deeper
into my other vagina. The pounding makes me surge my minge monsoon all over his
giggle stick. There was ectoplasm haemorrhaging from his throbbing quim dagger
and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. The mixture
of footlong fudge bullet and ectoplasm in my chocolate starfish created the
delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. When he removed his turgid terror
truncheon from my chocolate starfish, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr.
Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the Mr. Hanky off his
bald-headed yogurt slinger. Some girls are happy just to finger blast when
they're alone, but I can't get off without having a gerbil in my kipper dinghy
and a barbie doll up my balloon knot. Hours of raiding like this would leave
any girl's piss flaps looking like Terry Waite's allotment, and I was no
different! The thrusting of my brown mile was so vigorous, he soon found his
jingle-jangle jewellery joining his balony pony deep in my cocoa channel. He
munched on my meaty hangers, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best
part of a week. The feeling of his love mayonnaise leaking down my throat got
my pussy batter flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. With my
furburger now much like a bucket of smashed crabs, he thought it was time to
start ramming my tradesman's entrance. Is now the time to tell him I really
need to ease a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? It was bliss having his cervix
cigar stuffed inside me again; stuffing my cod crater with a gerbil just didn't
get my oyster ditch spritzing like it used to. By now, my clearing in the woods
was flowing like a leaky tap. I can't wait to consume the Da Vinci load from
his chubstep. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my oyster ditch got me
spritzing spaff faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Now, I've seen
more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his cervix cigar made my
pussy batter drip like a slavering dog. If I don't buff the muff to get my
vertical moisture slobbering from my smush mitten, his huge penis is going to
leave my panty hamster resembling a darts team's goalkeeper. My ruby cave was
trembling like a shitting dog. After having my herring hole fucked, he then
proceeded to pound my rusty bullet hole.

I
awoke the next morning with my calamari cockring still foaming. I thought it
was over but his meaty member had other ideas. The plowing makes me spray my
minge mucus all over his greasy kebab skewer. Inserting a lightbulb into my
whispering eye got me pouring minge monsoon faster than snot off a whip. If I
don't fish for pearls to get my spaff draining from my wizards sleeve, his skin
flute is going to leave my purple cabbage resembling a hippo's yawn. By now, my
gaping clam cavern was flowing like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. I can't
wait to consume the love mayonnaise from his cunt stretcher. The mixture of
stink pickle and baby gravy in my cocoa channel created the delicious porthole
pudding that he was so fond of. The fucking of my shit winker was so vigorous,
he soon found his wrecking balls joining his greasy kebab skewer deep in my
chocolate starfish. There was man fat leaching from his vein cane and I was
wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. Now, I've had more
hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his wrist-thick wand made my
spaff trickle like a slavering dog. My throat was so full of greasy slimelight
and baby gravy, the cock custard was oozing down my chin and onto my mosquito
bites. Some girls are happy just to stimulate the genitals through phalangetic
motion when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an egg timer in
my herring hole and my fist up my tradesman's entrance. The feeling of his love
mayonnaise leaching down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than
snot off a whip. With his womb ferret fucking deep into my ladytown, the sensation
of his slut slayer smashing my cervix made me quiver like jelly. It was bliss
having his ample cock stuffed inside me again; stuffing my fuck gutter with a
lightbulb just didn't get my wunder down under pouring like it used to. The
seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his Nelson's
Column soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With my flappy meal now
much like that bathroom door in The Shining, he thought it was time to start
stuffing my vintage golf bag. Is now the time to tell him I really need to
pitch a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? When he removed his disco stick from my shit
winker, he was pleasantly surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet staring back
as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the corn-eyed butt snake off
his chorizo howitzer. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's
vertical smile looking like a manatee in yoga pants, and I was no different! He
blasted a giant footlong fudge bullet on my cans just so he could chow down on
it up like a pig at a trough. The unrelenting orgasms from his meaty member
plowing my clam-flavoured pothole made me come so hard, I began sweating like a
pregnant nun. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my
worries as his bald-headed yogurt slinger slid deeper into my Oxo orifice.
Within no time, I could feel the shitty baby gravy haemorrhaging from my
turd-herder and all over my lunchmeat. My meat purse was trembling like jelly.
He munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for
the best part of a week.