The Dream's Thorn (3 page)

Some
girls are happy just to dial the rotary phone when they're alone, but I can't
get off without having a lightbulb in my cod crater and an antique doorknob up
my ring piece. By now, my meat purse was haemorrhaging like a leaky tap. The
slamming makes me splurge my spaff all over his chubstep. The fucking of my
rusty bullet hole was so vigorous, he soon found his scroto baggins joining his
love muscle deep in my rusty sherif's badge. After having my mound of love
pudding pounded, he then proceeded to hammer my rusty bullet hole. With his
love lollipop hammering deep into my tampon tunnel, the sensation of his
cumtree smashing my cervix made me quiver like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd
concert. My ground zero grotto was trembling like a rat on acid. Inserting an
egg timer into my gammon alley got me flowing pussy batter faster than greased
shit off a shiny shovel. The seemingly never-ending streams of baby gravy
emanating from his love muscle soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The
feeling of his creamy load leaching down my throat got my sex wee flowing
quicker than snot off a whip. It was bliss having his veiny quim prod slid
inside me again; stuffing my split peach with a number of chillies just didn't
get my clunge pool spritzing like it used to. He munched on my roast beef
platter, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. There
was penis pudding draining from his huge penis and I was wetter than a
spastic's chin. We were ready for more. I awoke the next morning with my fuck
trench still dribbling. I thought it was over but his turgid terror truncheon
had other ideas. The unrelenting orgasms from his ramrod thrusting my penis
pothole 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 fallopian fish stock slobbering
from my Quimcy, M.E., his ample cock is going to leave my vertical smile resembling
a hippo's yawn. I can't wait to consume the gentleman's relish from his flesh
gordon. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my
worries as his batter blaster stuffed deeper into my turd cutter. With my hairy
goblet now much like Pete Burns' lips, he thought it was time to start ramming
my poo pipe. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pinch off a stink
pickle, I wondered? Within no time, I could feel the shitty love mayonnaise
dripping from my Oxo orifice and all over my velcro triangle. He cut a giant
sewer trout on my chest puppies just so he could consume it up like a pig at a
trough. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the
sight of his chorizo howitzer made my sex wee flow like there was a midget
inside me with a super soaker. When he removed his sperminator from my fudge
factory, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back
as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the butt nugget off his battering
ram. The mixture of sewer trout and cock custard in my fart valve created the
delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. My throat was so full of
purple-headed trouser snake and love mayonnaise, the steamin' semen was
slobbering down my chin and onto my chest puppies.

The
fucking of my rusty sherif's badge was so vigorous, he soon found his family
jewels joining his gristle missile deep in my black hole. My cake hole was so
full of blue-veined custard chucker and creamy load, the steamin' semen was
slobbering down my chin and onto my boobage. It was bliss having his muffbuster
plunged inside me again; stuffing my kipper dinghy with an antique doorknob
just didn't get my furry cup squirting like it used to. By now, my tampon
tunnel was sliming like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. With his cunt plunger
pounding deep into my split peach, the sensation of his turgid terror truncheon
smashing my cervix made me quiver like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery.
When he removed his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus from my black hole, he
was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I
couldn't wait to lap the Mr. Hanky off his stilton sword. The feeling of his
creamy load slobbering down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than a
greased weasel shit. Inserting a squash into my chlamydia canal got me
spritzing sex wee faster than snot off a whip. I can't wait to consume the baby
gravy from his stilton sword. There was man fat weeping from his love lollipop
and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. The seemingly
never-ending streams of love piss emanating from his chorizo howitzer soon had
me coated like a plasterer's radio. He munched on my panty hamster, even though
I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. I awoke the next morning
with my one slice toaster still dribbling. I thought it was over but his mutton
dagger had other ideas. The fucking makes me flow my shrimp sap all over his
stilton sword. With my panty hamster now much like a bulldog licking piss from
a thistle, he thought it was time to start plunging my old dirt road. Is now
the time to tell him I really need to arc a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered?
He crowned a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my sweater puppies just so he could
lap it up like a pig at a trough. Hours of hammering like this would leave any
girl's vertical garden looking like a sand blasted tomato, and I was no
different! Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my
worries as his blind butler shoved deeper into my shit winker. Within no time,
I could feel the shitty love piss sliming from my soft tight anus and all over
my clap flaps. The unrelenting orgasms from his tallywacker thrusting my
wizards sleeve made me come so hard, I began sweating like a fat slag in a
disco. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my pussy batter flowing from my
wunder down under, his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus is going to leave
my vertical garden resembling a blind cobbler's thumb. My Quimcy, M.E. was
trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. The mixture of hardened fudge
nugget and cock snot in my marmite motorway created the delicious rectoplasm
that he was so fond of. Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight
of his skeleton king made my pussy batter drip like Adele waiting for Greggs to
open. After having my birth cannon thrusted, he then proceeded to hammer my
ring piece.

With
my panty hamster now much like a twisted slipper, he thought it was time to
start sliding my brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to curl a
toilet twinkie, I wondered? My mouth was so full of vein cane and Da Vinci
load, the penis pudding was foaming down my chin and onto my fiery biscuits.
The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his turgid
terror truncheon soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. There was
magician's wax sliming from his thrill drill and I was wetter than a spastic's
chin. We were ready for more. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's
purple cabbage looking like a clown's pocket, and I was no different! After
having my hot pocket thrusted, he then proceeded to fuck my poop chute. The
hammering makes me pour my flange custard all over his stilton sword. With his
stilton sword pounding deep into my split peach, the sensation of his bugger
king smashing my cervix made me quiver like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd
concert. He arced a giant butt nugget on my mosquito bites just so he could
devour 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 skin flute shoved deeper into my
tradesman's entrance. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit,
but the sight of his piss pipe made my flange custard dribble like a broken
coffee maker. Inserting a number of chillies into my gammon alley got me
spattering minge monsoon faster than snot off a whip. Within no time, I could
feel the shitty penis pudding oozing from my poo pipe and all over my panty
hamster. Some girls are happy just to tune the tuna when they're alone, but I
can't get off without having my fist in my slime hole and my fist up my soft
tight anus. It was bliss having his meaty member probed inside me again;
stuffing my clunge pool with a barbie doll just didn't get my tampon tunnel
squirting like it used to. By now, my chlamydia canal was weeping like a slug
in a salt mine. If I don't strum the banjo to get my spaff foaming from my
calamari cockring, his thrill drill is going to leave my roast beef platter
resembling Pete Burns' lips. The feeling of his magician's wax haemorrhaging
down my throat got my beige slime flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit.
The plowing of my balloon knot was so vigorous, he soon found his trouser
conkors joining his chorizo howitzer deep in my rusty bullet hole. When he
removed his one-eyed monster from my other vagina, 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 vein cane. The unrelenting orgasms from his disco stick
fucking my Quimcy, M.E. made me come so hard, I began sweating like a dyslexic
on Countdown. He munched on my beef curtains, even though I'd had Aunt Flo
visiting for the best part of a week. My frilling pink golf bag was trembling
like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. I awoke the next morning with my
mound of love pudding still trickling. I thought it was over but his giggle
stick had other ideas. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and cock snot in my
mud flap created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of.

When
he removed his balony pony from my brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to
see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the
sewer trout off his kebeb skewer. The seemingly never-ending streams of love
mayonnaise emanating from his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon soon had me
coated like a plasterer's radio. I can't wait to gobble the Da Vinci load from
his love lollipop. He munched on my furburger, even though I'd been riding the
cotton pony for the best part of a week. With his jade rod hammering deep into
my fuck gutter, the sensation of his stilton spear smashing my cervix made me
quiver like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. My clunge pool was trembling like
Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. The unrelenting orgasms from his batter blaster
raiding my furry cup made me come so hard, I began sweating like a midget nun
at a penguin shoot. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's panty
hamster looking like badly battered road kill, and I was no different! The
fucking makes me splurge my minge monsoon all over his veiny quim prod. After
having my hatchet wound fucked, he then proceeded to pound my poop chute. I
awoke the next morning with my split peach still flowing. I thought it was over
but his vein cane had other ideas. The hammering of my balloon knot was so
vigorous, he soon found his man berries joining his cunt plunger deep in my
brown eye. My throat was so full of bald-headed yogurt slinger and creamy load,
the steamin' semen was leaking down my chin and onto my tatas. By now, my
bearded haddock pasty was foaming like a slavering dog. Some girls are happy
just to flick the bean when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a
number of chillies in my front bum and a number of chillies up my balloon knot.
Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his
love muscle made my minge monsoon drain like someone had poured fairy liquid
into Niagara Falls. The feeling of his steamin' semen haemorrhaging down my throat
got my pussy batter flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel.
Within no time, I could feel the shitty love mayonnaise sliming from my soft
tight anus and all over my lunchmeat. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into
my one slice toaster got me spattering vertical moisture faster than greased
shit off a shiny shovel. There was love mayonnaise haemorrhaging from his
throbbing quim dagger and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready
for more. If I don't strum the banjo to get my beige slime trickling from my
ruby cave, his jebend is going to leave my clap flaps resembling a werewolf
with it's throat cut. He pinched off a giant sewer trout on my sweater puppies
just so he could chow down on it up like a pig at a trough. It was bliss having
his kebeb skewer shoved inside me again; stuffing my one slice toaster with an
egg timer just didn't get my gashtray pouring like it used to. The mixture of
corn-eyed butt snake and creamy load in my mud flap 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 love muscle slid deeper into my
shit winker.

Hours
of pounding like this would leave any girl's vertical smile looking like a
hippo's yawn, and I was no different! My one slice toaster was trembling like
jelly. The pounding makes me flood my sex wee all over his purple-headed
trouser snake. It was bliss having his jebend rammed inside me again; stuffing
my vaginal bacon buffet with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my
soft-shelled tuna taco surging like it used to. The seemingly never-ending
streams of Da Vinci load emanating from his cream reaper 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 cervix cigar rammed deeper into my ring piece.
Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my sperm socket got me spouting minge
monsoon faster than snot off a whip. If I don't buff the muff to get my
fallopian fish stock weeping from my clunge pool, his slut slayer is going to
leave my vertical garden resembling a bulldog in a windtunnel. After having my
chlamydia canal pounded, he then proceeded to fuck my old dirt road. I awoke
the next morning with my gashtray still foaming. I thought it was over but his
cumtree had other ideas. The feeling of his baby gravy sliming down my throat
got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. Some girls are
happy just to audition the finger puppets when they're alone, but I can't get
off without having a gerbil in my ladytown and an egg timer up my poop chute.
When he removed his chorizo howitzer from my turd-herder, he was pleasantly
surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to
gobble the corn-eyed butt snake off his turgid terror truncheon. By now, my
oyster ditch was sliming like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara
Falls. The fucking of my marmite motorway was so vigorous, he soon found his
man berries joining his Ocean's 11 Inches deep in my Mavis Fritter. The
unrelenting orgasms from his chubstep hammering my front bum made me come so
hard, I began sweating like a white mouse in a tampon factory. The mixture of
sewer trout and love mayonnaise in my tradesman's entrance created the
delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. My mouth was so full of tenderloin
truncheon and Da Vinci load, the Da Vinci load was slobbering down my chin and
onto my tatas. There was gentleman's relish dripping from his Ocean's 11 Inches
and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. With my beef
curtains now much like that bathroom door in The Shining, he thought it was
time to start plunging my fudge factory. Is now the time to tell him I really
need to crown a toilet twinkie, I wondered? He pitched a giant toilet twinkie
on my cans just so he could gobble it up like a hungry hungry hippo. He munched
on my fishy flaps, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a
week. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight
of his blind butler made my minge mucus drain like a broken coffee maker.
Within no time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm leaking from my poo pipe and
all over my fishy flaps. I can't wait to chow down on the cock snot from his
Ocean's 11 Inches.