The Dream's Thorn (100 page)

When
he removed his wrist-thick wand from my shit winker, he was pleasantly
surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't
wait to consume the hardened fudge nugget off his Ocean's 11 Inches. My throat
was so full of tallywacker and ectoplasm, the gentleman's relish was draining
down my chin and onto my cans. The feeling of his steamin' semen weeping down
my throat got my tuna tunnel tears flowing quicker than snot off a whip. He
munched on my vertical smile, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the
best part of a week. The fucking of my turd-herder was so vigorous, he soon
found his chin pounders joining his skeleton king deep in my vintage golf bag.
With his cream reaper raiding deep into my chlamydia canal, the sensation of
his cunt plunger smashing my cervix made me quiver like a rat on acid. I can't
wait to devour the love piss from his disco stick. Now, I've seen more action
than Helmand Province, but the sight of his stilton sword made my spaff flow
like a rabid dog. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least
of my worries as his Nelson's Column slid deeper into my puckered brown eye. By
now, my gaping clam cavern was oozing like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home.
After having my enchilada of love slammed, he then proceeded to raid my turd
cutter. My depravity cavity was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car
battery. With my velcro triangle now much like Pete Burns' lips, he thought it
was time to start stuffing my poo pipe. Is now the time to tell him I really
need to ease a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? It was bliss having his jebend
plunged inside me again; stuffing my furry cup with a gerbil just didn't get my
vibrator crater gushing like it used to. I awoke the next morning with my pink
velvet sausage wallet still haemorrhaging. I thought it was over but his
stilton sword had other ideas. The thrusting makes me flow my beige slime all
over his cunt plunger. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock custard
leaking from my marmite motorway and all over my flappy meal. The unrelenting
orgasms from his spam dagger slamming my one slice toaster made me come so hard,
I began sweating like a white mouse in a tampon factory. The mixture of colon
cobra and magician's wax in my cocoa channel created the delicious rectal stew
that he was so fond of. Inserting a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster
into my vibration station got me ejecting clunge gunge faster than snot off a
whip. He cut a giant butt nugget on my fiery biscuits just so he could chow
down on it up like a pig at a trough. Hours of slamming like this would leave
any girl's roast beef platter looking like a shot cat, and I was no different!
Some girls are happy just to audition the finger puppets when they're alone,
but I can't get off without having a squash in my municipal cockwash and an
antique doorknob up my soft tight anus. The seemingly never-ending streams of
cock snot emanating from his long-dong silver soon had me coated like a
plasterer's radio. There was love piss trickling from his Nelson's Column and I
was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more.

The
mixture of butt nugget and magician's wax in my Oxo orifice created the
delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. The seemingly never-ending
streams of cock snot emanating from his Ocean's 11 Inches soon had me coated
like a plasterer's radio. My cake hole was so full of spam javelin and creamy
load, the man fat was sliming down my chin and onto my sweater puppies. It was
bliss having his slut slayer stuffed inside me again; stuffing my chamber of
squelch with a gerbil just didn't get my spunk dungeon spritzing like it used
to. I can't wait to suck the cock custard from his purple beaver buster. He
blasted a giant footlong fudge bullet on my droopies just so he could suck it
up like a pig at a trough. Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo,
but the sight of his giggle stick made my beige slime ooze like a broken coffee
maker. When he removed his cheese-crusted cock from my rusty sherif's badge, he
was pleasantly surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He
knew I couldn't wait to gobble the sewer trout off his flesh gordon. Within no
time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen draining from my brown mile and
all over my lunchmeat. With his love muscle pounding deep into my furry cup,
the sensation of his chubstep smashing my cervix made me quiver like Micheal J.
Fox licking a car battery. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's
flappy meal looking like a badly wrapped kebab, and I was no different! The
feeling of his man fat flowing down my throat got my sex wee flowing quicker
than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Some girls are happy just to stimulate
the genitals through phalangetic motion when they're alone, but I can't get off
without having a 15" spiked vibrator in my cum dumpster and my fist up my
poop chute. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my
worries as his greasy kebab skewer slid deeper into my poo pipe. After having
my kipper dinghy thrusted, he then proceeded to hammer my ring piece. With my
hairy goblet now much like a hippo's yawn, he thought it was time to start
probing my poop chute. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a Mr.
Hanky, I wondered? The slamming of my turd-herder was so vigorous, he soon
found his jingle-jangle jewellery joining his skeleton king deep in my balloon
knot. By now, my moose knuckle was leaching like a rabid dog. Inserting an
antique doorknob into my vibrator crater got me spouting tuna tunnel tears
faster than snot off a whip. He munched on my purple cabbage, even though I'd
been up on bricks for the best part of a week. If I don't strum the banjo to
get my pussy batter trickling from my gammon alley, his bald avenger is going
to leave my vertical garden resembling a motorway pileup. I awoke the next
morning with my fuck gutter still seeping. I thought it was over but his ramrod
had other ideas. The slamming makes me flood my minge mucus all over his
stilton sword. My mound of love pudding was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's
diesel-powered vibrator. The unrelenting orgasms from his batter blaster
fucking my depravity cavity made me come so hard, I began sweating like a
dyslexic on Countdown.

The
mixture of Mr. Hanky and penis pudding in my poop chute created the delicious
rectoplasm that he was so fond of. With my flappy meal now much like a dropped
burrito, he thought it was time to start ramming my black hole. Is now the time
to tell him I really need to drop a butt nugget, I wondered? The slamming of my
fudge factory was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his
jade rod deep in my vintage golf bag. By now, my soft-shelled tuna taco was
seeping like a slug in a salt mine. My fuck trench was trembling like a rat on
acid. With his clunger plowing deep into my soft-shelled tuna taco, the
sensation of his slut slayer smashing my cervix made me quiver like Muhammad
Ali on a tumble dryer. I awoke the next morning with my spunk dungeon still
flowing. I thought it was over but his cunt stretcher had other ideas.
Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my vaginal bacon buffet got me
ejecting pussy batter faster than snot off a whip. The unrelenting orgasms from
his greasy slimelight raiding my fuck trench made me come so hard, I began
sweating like Mike Tyson at a spelling bee. When he removed his thrill drill
from my old dirt road, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt
snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the toilet twinkie
off his one-eyed monster. The feeling of his magician's wax oozing down my
throat got my tuna tunnel tears flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit.
Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his
ample cock made my spaff slime like a jizz waterfall. After having my ground
zero grotto raided, he then proceeded to hammer my turd cutter. He blasted a
giant stink pickle on my twin peaks just so he could suck it up like a bulldog
eating porridge. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of
my worries as his throbbing quim dagger slid deeper into my fart valve. Within
no time, I could feel the shitty love piss trickling from my brown eye and all
over my velcro triangle. The hammering makes me spray my beige slime all over
his womb raider. If I don't study english cliterature to get my spaff
haemorrhaging from my municipal cockwash, his chubstep is going to leave my
vertical garden resembling a bulldog licking piss from a thistle. It was bliss
having his chubstep stuffed inside me again; stuffing my gammon alley with a
15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my municipal cockwash flooding like it
used to. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his
devil's bagpipe soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Some girls are
happy just to audition the finger puppets when they're alone, but I can't get
off without having a number of chillies in my tampon tunnel and a squash up my
rusty sherif's badge. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's clap
flaps looking like a ripped out fireplace, and I was no different! I can't wait
to consume the Da Vinci load from his love lollipop. He munched on my furburger,
even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week.
There was cock snot oozing from his thrill drill and I was wetter than an
Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more.

Within
no time, I could feel the shitty gentleman's relish draining from my
turd-herder and all over my open-faced ham sandwich. When he removed his huge
penis from my turd-herder, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky
staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the corn-eyed butt snake
off his balony pony. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician,
but the sight of his all-beef thermometer made my sex wee dribble like a broken
coffee maker. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my
worries as his timed slimer plunged deeper into my other vagina. With my velcro
triangle now much like a hippo's yawn, he thought it was time to start shoving
my black hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to launch a toilet
twinkie, I wondered? I awoke the next morning with my kipper dinghy still
dripping. I thought it was over but his blue-veined custard chucker had other
ideas. Inserting a barbie doll into my bearded haddock pasty got me spouting
minge monsoon faster than a greased weasel shit. The unrelenting orgasms from
his flesh gordon fucking my cod cave made me come so hard, I began sweating
like Mike Tyson at a spelling bee. The pounding of my Mavis Fritter was so
vigorous, he soon found his chin pounders joining his ramrod deep in my cocoa
channel. It was bliss having his cunt plunger shoved inside me again; stuffing
my meat purse with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my furry cup
spraying like it used to. The seemingly never-ending streams of Da Vinci load
emanating from his tenderloin truncheon soon had me coated like a plasterer's
radio. The feeling of his penis pudding foaming down my throat got my minge
monsoon flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. I can't wait to
chow down on the cock custard from his clunger. After having my municipal cockwash
thrusted, he then proceeded to pound my brown eye. He arced a giant toilet
twinkie on my mosquito bites just so he could consume it up like a bulldog
eating porridge. He munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd had Aunt Flo
visiting for the best part of a week. The mixture of sewer trout and steamin'
semen in my turd-herder created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so
fond of. The fucking makes me spray my pussy batter all over his purple-headed
trouser snake. If I don't flick the bean to get my tuna tunnel tears leaking
from my clunge pool, his Ocean's 11 Inches is going to leave my hairy goblet
resembling a shot cat. With his piss pipe plowing deep into my gammon alley,
the sensation of his brie baton smashing my cervix made me quiver like jelly.
Some girls are happy just to tune the tuna when they're alone, but I can't get
off without having an egg timer in my clearing in the woods and an egg timer up
my brown mile. There was cock snot oozing from his kebeb skewer and I was
wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. Hours of thrusting like
this would leave any girl's meaty hangers looking like a badly wrapped kebab,
and I was no different! My shame portal was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a
tumble dryer. My mouth was so full of clunger and creamy load, the gentleman's
relish was flowing down my chin and onto my sweater puppies.

With
my hairy goblet now much like that bathroom door in The Shining, he thought it
was time to start ramming my poop chute. Is now the time to tell him I really
need to drop a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? Hours of hammering like this
would leave any girl's spam castanets looking like a darts team's goalkeeper,
and I was no different! Inserting my fist into my smush mitten got me flowing
flange custard faster than a greased weasel shit. After having my ladytown
thrusted, he then proceeded to pound my brown eye. The mixture of toilet
twinkie and baby gravy in my shit winker created the delicious rectal stew that
he was so fond of. He pitched a giant butt nugget on my rack just so he could
gobble it up like a bulldog eating porridge. I can't wait to gobble the creamy
load from his veiny quim prod. The hammering of my soft tight anus was so
vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his spam javelin deep in my
puckered brown eye. By now, my mound of love pudding was foaming like a broken
fridge freezer. The pounding makes me gush my clunge gunge all over his gristle
missile. My front bum was trembling like a shitting dog. Some girls are happy
just to buff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a
lightbulb in my vibration station and my fist up my turd cutter. My throat was
so full of sperminator and cock custard, the cock custard was frothing down my
chin and onto my mammaries. There was penis pudding dripping from his balony
pony and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. The
seemingly never-ending streams of love piss emanating from his blood-engorged
mayonnaise cannon soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I awoke the next
morning with my moose knuckle still sliming. I thought it was over but his
stilton spear had other ideas. Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the
sight of his stilton spear made my fallopian fish stock slobber like a slug in
a salt mine. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my sex wee seeping from my
cock holster, his battering ram is going to leave my flappy meal resembling a
clown's pocket. With his giggle stick thrusting deep into my cod canyon, the
sensation of his bugger king smashing my cervix made me quiver like Vanessa
Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. It was bliss having his Ocean's 11 Inches
stuffed inside me again; stuffing my vibrator crater with a barbie doll just
didn't get my cod canyon spattering like it used to. He munched on my vertical
smile, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. The
unrelenting orgasms from his spam dagger plowing my quim made me come so hard,
I began sweating like a whore in a confessional. Leaving my panties sunny side
up on the floor was the least of my worries as his skeleton king probed deeper
into my brown eye. When he removed his ample cock from my Oxo orifice, he was
pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't
wait to devour the butt nugget off his battering ram. The feeling of his cock
snot foaming down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than a greased
weasel shit.