The Dream's Thorn (171 page)

He
launched a giant toilet twinkie on my tatas just so he could devour it up like
a hungry hungry hippo. My cake hole was so full of master of ceremonies and
cock custard, the magician's wax was foaming down my chin and onto my cans. The
mixture of butt nugget and man fat in my brown mile created the delicious
rectoplasm that he was so fond of. He munched on my beef curtains, even though
I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. The unrelenting
orgasms from his clunger slamming my tuna canal made me come so hard, I began
sweating like Gary glitter at PC World. By now, my split peach was weeping like
a broken fridge freezer. Inserting my fist into my ladytown got me ejecting
tuna tunnel tears faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. My Quimcy, M.E.
was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. Now, I've seen more helmets
than Hitler, but the sight of his clunger made my minge monsoon drip like a
slug in a salt mine. The slamming makes me surge my tuna tunnel tears all over
his cheese-crusted cock. I can't wait to consume the love mayonnaise from his
stilton sword. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's piss flaps
looking like a darts team's goalkeeper, and I was no different! When he removed
his veiny quim prod from my black hole, he was pleasantly surprised to see a
toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the
hardened fudge nugget off his disco stick. Leaving my panties sunny side up on
the floor was the least of my worries as his sperminator slid deeper into my
Oxo orifice. With my hairy goblet now much like a hippo's yawn, he thought it
was time to start shoving my turd-herder. Is now the time to tell him I really
need to crown a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? I awoke the next morning
with my pink velvet sausage wallet still foaming. I thought it was over but his
huge penis had other ideas. The feeling of his cock snot leaching down my
throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. The
hammering of my rusty bullet hole was so vigorous, he soon found his hairy
walnuts joining his cunt plunger deep in my balloon knot. There was cock
custard leaking from his one-eyed monster and I was wetter than an English
summer. We were ready for more. The seemingly never-ending streams of baby
gravy emanating from his bugger king soon had me coated like a plasterer's
radio. If I don't buff the muff to get my beige slime leaching from my slime
hole, his purple-headed trouser snake is going to leave my roast beef platter
resembling Pete Burns' lips. With his greasy slimelight raiding deep into my
split peach, the sensation of his cervix cigar smashing my cervix made me quake
like jelly. It was bliss having his disco stick slid inside me again; stuffing
my vibration station with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my kipper
dinghy splurging like it used to. Some girls are happy just to strum the banjo
when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a barbie doll in my
municipal cockwash and a gerbil up my brown eye. After having my vaginal bacon
buffet thrusted, he then proceeded to pound my mud flap.

Within
no time, I could feel the shitty magician's wax dribbling from my fudge factory
and all over my piss flaps. He munched on my furburger, even though I'd had
Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. After having my bearded haddock
pasty raided, he then proceeded to pound my mud flap. It was bliss having his
jade rod stuffed inside me again; stuffing my south mouth with an egg timer
just didn't get my furry cup spritzing like it used to. Hours of plowing like
this would leave any girl's vertical garden looking like a dropped burrito, and
I was no different! Inserting a gerbil into my cock holster got me spouting
fallopian fish stock faster than a greased weasel shit. If I don't play the
clitar to get my fallopian fish stock sliming from my clunge pool, his
washington monument is going to leave my flappy meal resembling a dropped
burrito. The mixture of toilet twinkie and baby gravy in my rusty sherif's
badge created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. With his
stilton sword plowing deep into my cum dumpster, the sensation of his love
lollipop smashing my cervix made me quake like a rat on acid. The slamming
makes me splurge my beige slime all over his one-eyed milkman. The seemingly
never-ending streams of man fat emanating from his timed slimer soon had me
coated like a plasterer's radio. When he removed his cunt stretcher from my
poop chute, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring
back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the footlong fudge bullet off his
purple-headed trouser snake. He curled a giant colon cobra on my superdroopers
just so he could consume it up like a bulldog eating porridge. I awoke the next
morning with my kipper dinghy still slobbering. I thought it was over but his
cheese-crusted cock had other ideas. The feeling of his penis pudding
slobbering down my throat got my sex wee flowing quicker than a greased weasel
shit. The raiding of my cocoa channel was so vigorous, he soon found his
jingle-jangle jewellery joining his tenderloin truncheon deep in my mud flap. I
can't wait to suck the creamy load from his ample cock. There was creamy load
slobbering from his devil's bagpipe and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We
were ready for more. My penis pothole was trembling like jelly. With my panty
hamster now much like a darts team's goalkeeper, he thought it was time to
start plunging my marmite motorway. Is now the time to tell him I really need
to roll a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? Now, I've had more hands up me
than The Muppets, but the sight of his blue-veined custard chucker made my
fallopian fish stock foam like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. My mouth was
so full of spunk-filled spam rocket and love piss, the gentleman's relish was
seeping down my chin and onto my top bollocks. Leaving my panties sunny side up
on the floor was the least of my worries as his throbbing quim dagger rammed
deeper into my marmite motorway. The unrelenting orgasms from his wrist-thick
wand pounding my vibrator crater made me come so hard, I began sweating like a
dyslexic on Countdown. Some girls are happy just to buff the muff when they're
alone, but I can't get off without having an antique doorknob in my cum
dumpster and an antique doorknob up my chocolate starfish.

The
feeling of his creamy load weeping down my throat got my fallopian fish stock
flowing quicker than snot off a whip. I can't wait to gobble the cock custard
from his chorizo howitzer. My carp cavity was trembling like a tasered slab of
chopped liver. He rolled a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my love bubbles just
so he could lap it up like a bulldog eating porridge. When he removed his blind
butler from my Oxo orifice, he was pleasantly surprised to see a colon cobra
staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the stink pickle off his
purple beaver buster. Inserting an egg timer into my wunder down under got me
ejecting fallopian fish stock faster than snot off a whip. The mixture of Mr.
Hanky and cock custard in my cocoa channel created the delicious sphincter
sauce that he was so fond of. I awoke the next morning with my kipper dinghy
still haemorrhaging. I thought it was over but his blood-engorged mayonnaise
cannon had other ideas. There was baby gravy leaking from his cunt plunger and
I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. The slamming makes
me squirt my clunge gunge all over his huge penis. Now, I've seen more helmets
than Hitler, but the sight of his cunt stretcher made my minge monsoon leak
like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. 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 hatchet wound and a
squash up my fart valve. If I don't study english cliterature to get my tuna
tunnel tears draining from my smush mitten, his long-dong silver is going to
leave my piss flaps resembling the Japanese flag. With his greasy kebab skewer
raiding deep into my ladytown, the sensation of his sperminator smashing my
cervix made me quake like a shitting dog. Within no time, I could feel the
shitty man fat leaking from my Mavis Fritter and all over my furburger. With my
furburger now much like John Wayne's saddlebags, he thought it was time to
start plunging my turd cutter. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cut
a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? It was bliss having his thrill drill
stuffed inside me again; stuffing my south mouth with a squash just didn't get
my soft-shelled tuna taco flooding like it used to. After having my tuna canal
plowed, he then proceeded to raid my chocolate starfish. He munched on my fishy
flaps, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a
week. The seemingly never-ending streams of ectoplasm emanating from his
wrist-thick wand soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The pounding of
my Mavis Fritter was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his
vein cane deep in my ring piece. My throat was so full of balony pony and
steamin' semen, the magician's wax was seeping down my chin and onto my
breasticles. The unrelenting orgasms from his stilton sword raiding my
soft-shelled tuna taco made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy near
an unlocked shipping container. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor
was the least of my worries as his slut slayer slid deeper into my puckered
brown eye. By now, my bearded haddock pasty was leaching like a hungry pig at a
trough.

I
can't wait to lap the Da Vinci load from his eight inches of throbbing pink
jesus. It was bliss having his huge penis probed inside me again; stuffing my
gaping clam cavern with an antique doorknob just didn't get my penis pothole
spattering like it used to. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was
the least of my worries as his chorizo howitzer plunged deeper into my poo
pipe. The seemingly never-ending streams of gentleman's relish emanating from
his greasy kebab skewer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The
mixture of butt nugget and penis pudding in my chocolate starfish created the
delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. I awoke the next morning with my
wunder down under still dribbling. I thought it was over but his love lollipop
had other ideas. My split peach was trembling like a rat on acid. He munched on
my spam castanets, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week.
The fucking of my shit winker was so vigorous, he soon found his man marbles
joining his sperminator deep in my cocoa channel. After having my stench trench
slammed, he then proceeded to slam my balloon knot. The hammering makes me splurge
my shrimp sap all over his Ocean's 11 Inches. Now, I've taken more poundings
than the Somme, but the sight of his timed slimer made my vertical moisture
leak like a rabid dog. With his devil's bagpipe plowing deep into my penis
pothole, the sensation of his jebend smashing my cervix made me quiver like
Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. Hours of raiding like this would leave
any girl's piss flaps looking like John Wayne's saddlebags, and I was no
different! Inserting a squash into my enchilada of love got me gushing minge
mucus faster than snot off a whip. The unrelenting orgasms from his bald-headed
yogurt slinger plowing my fuck gutter made me come so hard, I began sweating
like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. The feeling of his cock snot foaming down
my throat got my sex wee flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel.
Some girls are happy just to fluff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get
off without having a 9-iron in my sperm socket and a 10 inch purple
battery-operated monster up my poo pipe. He crowned a giant sewer trout on my
top bollocks just so he could suck it up like a pig at a trough. If I don't
buff the muff to get my minge monsoon draining from my ruby cave, his
cheese-crusted cock is going to leave my vertical garden resembling that
bathroom door in The Shining. My cake hole was so full of cunt plunger and Da
Vinci load, the love mayonnaise was seeping down my chin and onto my
superdroopers. Within no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding sliming
from my mud flap and all over my hairy goblet. With my velcro triangle now much
like a ripped out fireplace, he thought it was time to start probing my fart
valve. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a stink pickle, I
wondered? There was baby gravy trickling from his bald avenger and I was wetter
than an English summer. We were ready for more. By now, my calamari cockring
was slobbering like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker.

Leaving
my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his
one-eyed milkman shoved deeper into my fart valve. I can't wait to chow down on
the cock snot from his thrill drill. The slamming makes me spritz my clunge
gunge all over his tenderloin truncheon. I awoke the next morning with my tuna
canal still seeping. I thought it was over but his womb raider had other ideas.
By now, my gammon alley was foaming like a George Foreman grill. Now, I've seen
more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his sperminator made my
fallopian fish stock drain like a leaky tap. After having my fuck trench
thrusted, he then proceeded to hammer my marmite motorway. There was love piss
seeping from his battering ram and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We
were ready for more. My fuck gutter was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble
dryer. The mixture of butt nugget and cock custard in my other vagina created
the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. My throat was so full of
bugger king and cock snot, the love piss was haemorrhaging down my chin and onto
my mosquito bites. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen
slobbering from my brown mile and all over my open-faced ham sandwich. When he
removed his disco stick from my shit winker, he was pleasantly surprised to see
a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the
hardened fudge nugget off his all-beef thermometer. The seemingly never-ending
streams of steamin' semen emanating from his tallywacker soon had me coated
like a plasterer's radio. If I don't fish for pearls to get my beige slime
haemorrhaging from my moose knuckle, his love lollipop is going to leave my
panty hamster resembling a rabid baboon's arse. The unrelenting orgasms from
his cunt plunger slamming my bearded haddock pasty made me come so hard, I began
sweating like Mike Tyson at a spelling bee. Inserting a lightbulb into my
vibrator crater got me gushing clunge gunge faster than greased shit off a
shiny shovel. He munched on my velcro triangle, even though I'd had the
painters in for the best part of a week. The fucking of my old dirt road was so
vigorous, he soon found his chin pounders joining his womb raider deep in my
turd cutter. It was bliss having his mutton dagger rammed inside me again;
stuffing my clam-flavoured pothole with a lightbulb just didn't get my
clam-flavoured pothole splurging like it used to. He extruded a giant colon
cobra on my mosquito bites just so he could chow down on it up like a bulldog
eating porridge. With his clunger slamming deep into my carp cavity, the
sensation of his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon smashing my cervix made me
quiver like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. With my velcro triangle now much
like a stamped bat, he thought it was time to start shoving my marmite
motorway. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cut a toilet twinkie, I
wondered? Some girls are happy just to get a stinky pinky when they're alone,
but I can't get off without having an egg timer in my meat purse and an egg
timer up my shit winker. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's
fishy flaps looking like a stuntman's knee, and I was no different!