The Dream's Thorn (6 page)

There
was ectoplasm sliming from his blind butler and I was wetter than a well
diggers arse. We were ready for more. I can't wait to suck the magician's wax
from his jade rod. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's velcro triangle
looking like Pete Burns' lips, and I was no different! Inserting a lightbulb
into my wunder down under got me spouting tuna tunnel tears faster than snot
off a whip. My one slice toaster was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's
diesel-powered vibrator. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the
sight of his cream reaper made my shrimp sap seep like a rabid dog. Within no
time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm seeping from my soft tight anus and all
over my lunchmeat. With my piss flaps now much like a clown's pocket, he
thought it was time to start plunging my brown eye. Is now the time to tell him
I really need to drop a stink pickle, I wondered? The seemingly never-ending
streams of baby gravy emanating from his bugger king soon had me coated like a
plasterer's radio. The unrelenting orgasms from his skin flute hammering my
salmon slit made me come so hard, I began sweating like a paedo during a prison
riot. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my minge mucus dripping from my fuck
gutter, his greasy slimelight is going to leave my furburger resembling Brian
May's plughole. The hammering makes me flood my spaff all over his balony pony.
I awoke the next morning with my shame portal still draining. I thought it was
over but his chubstep had other ideas. By now, my frilling pink golf bag was
oozing like a broken fridge freezer. He blasted a giant corn-eyed butt snake on
my boobage just so he could lap it up like a bulldog eating porridge. Leaving
my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his
spunk-filled spam rocket stuffed deeper into my puckered brown eye. The mixture
of footlong fudge bullet and cock custard in my mud flap created the delicious
rectal stew that he was so fond of. With his jade rod thrusting deep into my
ground zero grotto, the sensation of his flesh gordon smashing my cervix made
me quiver like a rat on acid. When he removed his clunger from my fart valve,
he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I
couldn't wait to gobble the footlong fudge bullet off his sperminator. My
throat was so full of clunger and love mayonnaise, the cock custard was leaking
down my chin and onto my cans. It was bliss having his blue-veined custard
chucker shoved inside me again; stuffing my fuck gutter with an antique
doorknob just didn't get my birth cannon surging like it used to. After having
my municipal cockwash fucked, he then proceeded to raid my poo pipe. The
feeling of his cock snot flowing down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker
than greased shit off a shiny shovel. He munched on my meaty hangers, even
though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. The hammering of my
ring piece was so vigorous, he soon found his sperm factories joining his
one-eyed milkman deep in my black hole.

Inserting
an egg timer into my smush mitten got me splurging minge mucus faster than
greased shit off a shiny shovel. If I don't buff the muff to get my tuna tunnel
tears frothing from my pink velvet sausage wallet, his Nelson's Column is going
to leave my velcro triangle resembling Pete Burns' lips. The unrelenting
orgasms from his skin flute pounding my gammon alley made me come so hard, I
began sweating like a whore in a confessional. With my panty hamster now much
like John Wayne's saddlebags, he thought it was time to start shoving my mud
flap. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a butt nugget, I
wondered? Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's meaty hangers
looking like a hippo's yawn, and I was no different! The mixture of colon cobra
and cock custard in my balloon knot created the delicious sphincter sauce that
he was so fond of. There was magician's wax flowing from his bald-headed yogurt
slinger and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more.
With his bald avenger plowing deep into my hatchet wound, the sensation of his
master of ceremonies smashing my cervix made me quiver like a tasered slab of
chopped liver. It was bliss having his cream reaper probed inside me again;
stuffing my quim with a gerbil just didn't get my split peach surging like it
used to. When he removed his vein cane from my poo pipe, he was pleasantly
surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He knew I
couldn't wait to consume the footlong fudge bullet off his love lollipop. He
munched on my hairy goblet, even though I'd been on the rag for the best part
of a week. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the
sight of his meaty member made my pussy batter ooze like there was a midget inside
me with a super soaker. I can't wait to chow down on the penis pudding from his
cream reaper. Some girls are happy just to dial the rotary phone when they're
alone, but I can't get off without having a 15" spiked vibrator in my
enchilada of love and a 9-iron up my shit winker. My mouth was so full of love
muscle and gentleman's relish, the love mayonnaise was haemorrhaging down my
chin and onto my superdroopers. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love
mayonnaise leaking from my poop chute and all over my furburger. My stench
trench was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. He dropped a giant
Mr. Hanky on my chesticles just so he could devour it up like a hungry hungry
hippo. The thrusting makes me flow my minge monsoon all over his womb ferret.
After having my cod crater hammered, he then proceeded to pound my poo pipe.
The seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his skin
flute soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I awoke the next morning
with my shamevelope still weeping. I thought it was over but his chubstep had
other ideas. The feeling of his cock custard frothing down my throat got my
flange custard flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Leaving my
panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his gristle
missile shoved deeper into my black hole. By now, my salmon slit was seeping
like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls.

By
now, my depravity cavity was trickling like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight
of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. With my hairy goblet now much like a blind
cobbler's thumb, he thought it was time to start shoving my black hole. Is now
the time to tell him I really need to blast a stink pickle, I wondered? It was
bliss having his long-dong silver plunged inside me again; stuffing my
clam-flavoured pothole with a gerbil just didn't get my hatchet wound spouting
like it used to. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's spam
castanets looking like a stuntman's knee, and I was no different! After having
my herring hole raided, he then proceeded to fuck my poo pipe. If I don't study
english cliterature to get my clunge gunge slobbering from my south mouth, his
purple-headed trouser snake is going to leave my flappy meal resembling an over
inflated dinghy. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of
my worries as his ramrod slid deeper into my mud flap. The unrelenting orgasms
from his meaty member hammering my one slice toaster made me come so hard, I
began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. The thrusting of my
turd-herder was so vigorous, he soon found his two amigos joining his master of
ceremonies deep in my mud flap. There was steamin' semen frothing from his
purple-headed trouser snake and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were
ready for more. With his muffbuster thrusting deep into my bearded haddock
pasty, the sensation of his bugger king smashing my cervix made me quake like
Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. Within no time, I could feel the
shitty cock custard oozing from my marmite motorway and all over my vertical
garden. The seemingly never-ending streams of gentleman's relish emanating from
his giggle stick soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My Quimcy, M.E.
was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. Some girls are happy just
to study english cliterature when they're alone, but I can't get off without
having a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in my chlamydia canal and my
fist up my rusty sherif's badge. He eased out a giant colon cobra on my
chesticles just so he could devour it up like a pig at a trough. My throat was
so full of huge penis and ectoplasm, the Da Vinci load was seeping down my chin
and onto my chesticles. The thrusting makes me splurge my sex wee all over his
clunger. When he removed his bugger king from my shit winker, 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 kebeb skewer. Now, I've seen more pricks than
a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his spunk-filled spam rocket made my
spaff weep like a hungry pig at a trough. I can't wait to gobble the baby gravy
from his jebend. The mixture of sewer trout and Da Vinci load in my puckered
brown eye created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. He
munched on my velcro triangle, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for
the best part of a week. I awoke the next morning with my calamari cockring
still oozing. I thought it was over but his vein cane had other ideas. The
feeling of his creamy load dribbling down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing
quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel.

My
mound of love pudding was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert.
When he removed his womb ferret from my chocolate starfish, he was pleasantly
surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to
gobble the corn-eyed butt snake off his tallywacker. After having my frilling
pink golf bag plowed, he then proceeded to fuck my rusty sherif's badge. The
seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his bald avenger
soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The plowing makes me flow my pussy
batter all over his spunk-filled spam rocket. Within no time, I could feel the
shitty Da Vinci load frothing from my brown mile and all over my furburger. The
mixture of sewer trout and man fat in my rusty bullet hole created the
delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. There was penis pudding
slobbering from his brie baton and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were
ready for more. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the
sight of his pink tractor beam made my pussy batter drip like Wayne Rooney's
dick in an OAP home. I awoke the next morning with my carp cavity still
frothing. I thought it was over but his bald avenger had other ideas. Hours of
fucking like this would leave any girl's panty hamster looking like a badly
wrapped kebab, and I was no different! He munched on my spam castanets, even
though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. With his batter
blaster hammering deep into my chlamydia canal, the sensation of his chorizo
howitzer smashing my cervix made me quake like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd
concert. Some girls are happy just to strum the banjo when they're alone, but I
can't get off without having an antique doorknob in my gammon alley and a
lightbulb up my brown eye. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was
the least of my worries as his batter blaster probed deeper into my
turd-herder. He launched a giant Mr. Hanky on my love bubbles just so he could
lap it up like a bulldog eating porridge. Inserting a barbie doll into my
depravity cavity got me pouring minge mucus faster than greased shit off a
shiny shovel. My cake hole was so full of eight inches of throbbing pink jesus
and penis pudding, the steamin' semen was weeping down my chin and onto my
breasticles. With my vertical garden now much like a rabid baboon's arse, he
thought it was time to start ramming my fart valve. Is now the time to tell him
I really need to pinch off a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? The thrusting
of my cocoa channel was so vigorous, he soon found his family jewels joining
his batter blaster deep in my shit winker. I can't wait to consume the creamy
load from his battering ram. The unrelenting orgasms from his eight inches of
throbbing pink jesus hammering my pink velvet sausage wallet made me come so
hard, I began sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. If I
don't play the clitar to get my pussy batter leaking from my bearded haddock
pasty, his huge penis is going to leave my piss flaps resembling a shot cat. By
now, my mound of love pudding was dripping like a slug in a salt mine. The
feeling of his man fat flowing down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing
quicker than a greased weasel shit.

Some
girls are happy just to dial the rotary phone when they're alone, but I can't
get off without having a squash in my furry cup and a squash up my black hole.
The unrelenting orgasms from his womb ferret thrusting my gashtray made me come
so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. By
now, my whispering eye was leaking like someone had poured fairy liquid into
Niagara Falls. The mixture of toilet twinkie and Da Vinci load in my
tradesman's entrance created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of.
The thrusting makes me spritz my spaff all over his tenderloin truncheon. The
thrusting of my Mavis Fritter was so vigorous, he soon found his kids on a
swing joining his disco stick deep in my vintage golf bag. He curled a giant
corn-eyed butt snake on my love bubbles just so he could suck it up like a pig
at a trough. Inserting a lightbulb into my slime hole got me squirting flange
custard faster than a greased weasel shit. My salmon slit was trembling like a
tasered slab of chopped liver. My throat was so full of stilton spear and
creamy load, the steamin' semen was flowing down my chin and onto my mosquito
bites. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my minge mucus foaming from my
gashtray, his Ocean's 11 Inches is going to leave my clap flaps resembling a
dropped burrito. I can't wait to suck the love mayonnaise from his cunt
stretcher. With my vertical garden now much like a bucket of smashed crabs, he
thought it was time to start probing my ring piece. Is now the time to tell him
I really need to cut a sewer trout, I wondered? Hours of pounding like this
would leave any girl's spam castanets looking like a darts team's goalkeeper,
and I was no different! It was bliss having his greasy slimelight probed inside
me again; stuffing my clunge pool with my fist just didn't get my cum dumpster
splurging like it used to. When he removed his skin flute from my mud flap, he
was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He
knew I couldn't wait to suck the Mr. Hanky off his pink tractor beam. Now, I've
had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his tallywacker made my
tuna tunnel tears haemorrhage like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. The
feeling of his love mayonnaise flowing down my throat got my fallopian fish
stock flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. I awoke the next
morning with my ground zero grotto still leaking. I thought it was over but his
love lollipop had other ideas. He munched on my meaty hangers, even though I'd
had the painters in for the best part of a week. Within no time, I could feel
the shitty love mayonnaise dribbling from my brown eye and all over my roast
beef platter. The seemingly never-ending streams of love piss emanating from
his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon soon had me coated like a plasterer's
radio. There was ectoplasm leaking from his blue-veined custard chucker and I
was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. Leaving my panties
sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his love lollipop
probed deeper into my rusty bullet hole. After having my Quimcy, M.E. fucked,
he then proceeded to fuck my poop chute.