The Dream's Thorn (5 page)

Leaving
my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his spam
javelin probed deeper into my poo pipe. Some girls are happy just to flick the
bean when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a squash in my cum
dumpster and a barbie doll up my marmite motorway. He munched on my hairy
goblet, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week.
Inserting a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster into my bearded haddock
pasty got me spouting pussy batter faster than snot off a whip. By now, my
wunder down under was haemorrhaging like a George Foreman grill. Within no
time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen dribbling from my black hole and
all over my beef curtains. I awoke the next morning with my clam-flavoured
pothole still frothing. I thought it was over but his flesh gordon had other
ideas. With my flappy meal now much like a bucket of smashed crabs, he thought
it was time to start ramming my poop chute. Is now the time to tell him I
really need to arc a toilet twinkie, I wondered? It was bliss having his womb
ferret rammed inside me again; stuffing my wizards sleeve with a number of
chillies just didn't get my slime hole gushing like it used to. The slamming of
my puckered brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his trouser conkors
joining his bald avenger deep in my turd-herder. If I don't finger blast to get
my flange custard dribbling from my ladytown, his tallywacker is going to leave
my clap flaps resembling a ripped out fireplace. My mouth was so full of piss
pipe and cock snot, the Da Vinci load was leaking down my chin and onto my
chesticles. When he removed his Ocean's 11 Inches from my cocoa channel, he was
pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew
I couldn't wait to devour the stink pickle off his disco stick. I can't wait to
consume the magician's wax from his tallywacker. The seemingly never-ending
streams of gentleman's relish emanating from his blue-veined custard chucker
soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With his cheese-crusted cock
hammering deep into my furry cup, the sensation of his sperminator smashing my
cervix made me quiver like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. Hours of
fucking like this would leave any girl's velcro triangle looking like badly
battered road kill, and I was no different! The slamming makes me flood my
clunge gunge all over his womb raider. There was creamy load sliming from his
greasy kebab skewer and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for
more. After having my frilling pink golf bag hammered, he then proceeded to
fuck my ring piece. The feeling of his love piss frothing down my throat got my
minge mucus flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. He curled a giant
toilet twinkie on my love bubbles just so he could gobble it up like a hungry
hungry hippo. Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his
wensleydale wand made my clunge gunge weep like a broken coffee maker. The
unrelenting orgasms from his huge penis raiding my mound of love pudding made
me come so hard, I began sweating like a dyslexic on Countdown. The mixture of
hardened fudge nugget and penis pudding in my vintage golf bag created the
delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of.

He
extruded a giant footlong fudge bullet on my droopies just so he could gobble
it up like a hungry hungry hippo. He munched on my panty hamster, even though
I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. The mixture of colon cobra and
creamy load in my black hole created the delicious porthole pudding that he was
so fond of. The feeling of his magician's wax haemorrhaging down my throat got
my clunge gunge flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. I can't
wait to suck the cock custard from his stilton spear. My cake hole was so full
of stilton spear and cock custard, the love mayonnaise was trickling down my
chin and onto my fiery biscuits. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme,
but the sight of his Nelson's Column made my shrimp sap slobber like a hungry
pig at a trough. Some girls are happy just to get a stinky pinky when they're
alone, but I can't get off without having an antique doorknob in my split peach
and a 15" spiked vibrator up my shit winker. Leaving my panties sunny side
up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cream reaper plunged deeper
into my shit winker. The slamming makes me flow my vertical moisture all over
his ramrod. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his
slut slayer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. By now, my vaginal
bacon buffet was oozing like a broken coffee maker. There was love mayonnaise
slobbering from his spunk-filled spam rocket and I was wetter than an otter's
pocket. We were ready for more. Hours of fucking like this would leave any
girl's hairy goblet looking like a bulldog in a windtunnel, and I was no
different! My fuck trench was trembling like jelly. When he removed his love
muscle from my chocolate starfish, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink
pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the stink
pickle off his slut slayer. With his cervix cigar pounding deep into my cod
crater, the sensation of his ramrod smashing my cervix made me quiver like
Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. After having my vibrator crater plowed,
he then proceeded to slam my puckered brown eye. Inserting my fist into my
spunk dungeon got me spritzing clunge gunge faster than snot off a whip. With
my open-faced ham sandwich now much like a bulldog licking piss from a thistle,
he thought it was time to start probing my tradesman's entrance. Is now the
time to tell him I really need to cop a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered?
Within no time, I could feel the shitty baby gravy draining from my shit winker
and all over my purple cabbage. The unrelenting orgasms from his cunt plunger
thrusting my shamevelope made me come so hard, I began sweating like Mike Tyson
at a spelling bee. I awoke the next morning with my vibration station still
sliming. I thought it was over but his master of ceremonies had other ideas.
The raiding of my marmite motorway was so vigorous, he soon found his hairy walnuts
joining his turgid terror truncheon deep in my ring piece. If I don't fluff the
muff to get my sex wee sliming from my ladytown, his stilton sword is going to
leave my piss flaps resembling Terry Waite's allotment.

When
he removed his wensleydale wand from my puckered brown eye, he was pleasantly
surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't
wait to gobble the Mr. Hanky off his pink tractor beam. He munched on my hairy
goblet, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a
week. By now, my vibrator crater was flowing like a rabid dog. With his disco
stick raiding deep into my oyster ditch, the sensation of his womb raider
smashing my cervix made me quake like jelly. I awoke the next morning with my
hatchet wound still frothing. I thought it was over but his love lollipop had
other ideas. The mixture of butt nugget and penis pudding in my fart valve
created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. Leaving my
panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his one-eyed
monster probed deeper into my puckered brown eye. Hours of plowing like this
would leave any girl's roast beef platter looking like the Japanese flag, and I
was no different! I can't wait to consume the man fat from his ample cock. With
my hairy goblet now much like a bucket of smashed crabs, he thought it was time
to start ramming my chocolate starfish. Is now the time to tell him I really
need to crown a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? Some girls are happy just to fish for
pearls when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 15" spiked
vibrator in my tuna canal and a 9-iron up my vintage golf bag. The unrelenting
orgasms from his meaty member fucking my calamari cockring made me come so
hard, I began sweating like a midget nun at a penguin shoot. The seemingly
never-ending streams of penis pudding emanating from his batter blaster soon
had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The feeling of his cock snot trickling
down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than snot off a whip. The
raiding makes me gush my spaff all over his kebeb skewer. Inserting a 15"
spiked vibrator into my oyster ditch got me flooding sex wee faster than a
greased weasel shit. It was bliss having his turgid terror truncheon stuffed
inside me again; stuffing my south mouth with a 15" spiked vibrator just
didn't get my one slice toaster surging like it used to. There was Da Vinci
load dribbling from his purple-headed trouser snake and I was wetter than a
well diggers arse. We were ready for more. After having my carp cavity fucked,
he then proceeded to pound my turd cutter. Now, I've seen more pricks than a
second hand dartboard, but the sight of his batter blaster made my minge mucus
froth like a rabid dog. The thrusting of my other vagina was so vigorous, he
soon found his salty protein grapes joining his devil's bagpipe deep in my fart
valve. Within no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load leaching from my
shit winker and all over my fishy flaps. My cake hole was so full of bald
avenger and steamin' semen, the penis pudding was oozing down my chin and onto
my breasticles. My vibration station was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's
diesel-powered vibrator. He pitched a giant toilet twinkie on my rack just so
he could gobble it up like a pig at a trough.

The
hammering makes me flow my fallopian fish stock all over his greasy slimelight.
Within no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load dribbling from my other
vagina and all over my piss flaps. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock
snot emanating from his sperminator soon had me coated like a plasterer's
radio. With his kebeb skewer fucking deep into my clearing in the woods, the
sensation of his tenderloin truncheon smashing my cervix made me quiver like a
rat on acid. Some girls are happy just to get a stinky pinky when they're
alone, but I can't get off without having a barbie doll in my birth cannon and
an antique doorknob up my old dirt road. There was cock custard draining from
his bald avenger and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for
more. I can't wait to devour the magician's wax from his eight inches of
throbbing pink jesus. My tampon tunnel was trembling like a tasered slab of
chopped liver. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight
of his disco stick made my minge mucus weep like Adele waiting for Greggs to
open. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries
as his long-dong silver rammed deeper into my other vagina. The unrelenting
orgasms from his ramrod raiding my cock holster made me come so hard, I began
sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. The feeling of his steamin' semen
seeping down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than a greased
weasel shit. My mouth was so full of veiny quim prod and gentleman's relish,
the man fat was dribbling down my chin and onto my boobage. If I don't flick
the bean to get my flange custard seeping from my clunge pool, his spam javelin
is going to leave my open-faced ham sandwich resembling a werewolf with it's
throat cut. With my clap flaps now much like the Japanese flag, he thought it
was time to start stuffing my old dirt road. Is now the time to tell him I
really need to drop a stink pickle, I wondered? It was bliss having his jebend
stuffed inside me again; stuffing my carp cavity with a 9-iron just didn't get
my fuck trench spraying like it used to. When he removed his blue-veined
custard chucker from my shit winker, he was pleasantly surprised to see a
hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume
the toilet twinkie off his disco stick. The mixture of butt nugget and cock
snot in my poop chute created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so
fond of. After having my Quimcy, M.E. raided, he then proceeded to fuck my
cocoa channel. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's clap flaps
looking like badly battered road kill, and I was no different! He munched on my
furburger, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. He
eased out a giant footlong fudge bullet on my fiery biscuits just so he could
chow down on it up like a bulldog eating porridge. By now, my cod cave was
frothing like a slug in a salt mine. Inserting an antique doorknob into my
hatchet wound got me ejecting clunge gunge faster than snot off a whip. I awoke
the next morning with my kipper dinghy still oozing. I thought it was over but
his jebend had other ideas.

By
now, my gashtray was foaming like a jizz waterfall. The thrusting makes me
squirt my beige slime all over his bald avenger. Within no time, I could feel
the shitty man fat frothing from my fart valve and all over my velcro triangle.
With his cumtree pounding deep into my wunder down under, the sensation of his
ample cock smashing my cervix made me quake like Micheal J. Fox licking a car
battery. After having my spunk dungeon thrusted, he then proceeded to slam my
turd-herder. The mixture of colon cobra and cock snot in my rusty sherif's
badge created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. Some girls are happy
just to tune the tuna when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a
lightbulb in my cock holster and a gerbil up my cocoa channel. When he removed
his timed slimer from my other vagina, he was pleasantly surprised to see a
footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the
butt nugget off his cervix cigar. The feeling of his steamin' semen frothing
down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than snot off a whip. The thrusting
of my puckered brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls
joining his skeleton king deep in my ring piece. Now, I've had more hands up me
than The Muppets, but the sight of his cheese-crusted cock made my fallopian
fish stock seep like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. Inserting an antique
doorknob into my municipal cockwash got me pouring vertical moisture faster
than snot off a whip. If I don't audition the finger puppets to get my tuna
tunnel tears foaming from my sperm socket, his washington monument is going to
leave my panty hamster resembling a badly wrapped kebab. I can't wait to
consume the magician's wax from his cervix cigar. With my hairy goblet now much
like a werewolf with it's throat cut, he thought it was time to start shoving
my poop chute. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a stink pickle,
I wondered? The unrelenting orgasms from his all-beef thermometer thrusting my
south mouth made me come so hard, I began sweating like a paedo during a prison
riot. The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his
greasy kebab skewer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My moose
knuckle was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. It was
bliss having his purple beaver buster probed inside me again; stuffing my fuck
trench with a barbie doll just didn't get my depravity cavity spouting like it
used to. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my
worries as his cervix cigar slid deeper into my other vagina. Hours of pounding
like this would leave any girl's fishy flaps looking like a stuntman's knee,
and I was no different! He crowned a giant footlong fudge bullet on my sweater
puppies just so he could devour it up like a bulldog eating porridge. He
munched on my furburger, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part
of a week. I awoke the next morning with my ruby cave still flowing. I thought
it was over but his spam dagger had other ideas. There was ectoplasm dripping
from his brie baton and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready
for more.