The Dream's Thorn (103 page)

I
awoke the next morning with my fuck gutter still seeping. I thought it was over
but his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon had other ideas. He cut a giant toilet
twinkie on my droopies just so he could consume it up like a pig at a trough.
Within no time, I could feel the shitty baby gravy flowing from my balloon knot
and all over my piss flaps. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets,
but the sight of his timed slimer made my vertical moisture drain like there
was a midget inside me with a super soaker. If I don't buff the muff to get my
fallopian fish stock weeping from my ruby cave, his greasy kebab skewer is
going to leave my beef curtains resembling the Japanese flag. 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 carp cavity and an egg timer up my mud flap.
Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's velcro triangle looking like
the Japanese flag, and I was no different! He munched on my spam castanets,
even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week. My
cake hole was so full of sperminator and love piss, the cock snot was leaking
down my chin and onto my chesticles. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and
ectoplasm in my old dirt road created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was
so fond of. With my beef curtains 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 arc a sewer trout, I wondered? When he removed his
one-eyed monster from my black hole, he was pleasantly surprised to see a
footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the
hardened fudge nugget off his greasy kebab skewer. The seemingly never-ending
streams of man fat emanating from his thrill drill soon had me coated like a
plasterer's radio. The pounding makes me eject my minge mucus all over his
purple-headed trouser snake. There was Da Vinci load haemorrhaging from his
sperminator and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more.
It was bliss having his long-dong silver slid inside me again; stuffing my
chlamydia canal with an antique doorknob just didn't get my ruby cave splurging
like it used to. Inserting a 9-iron into my quim got me spraying flange custard
faster than snot off a whip. With his spam javelin pounding deep into my smush
mitten, the sensation of his bugger king smashing my cervix made me quiver like
a rat on acid. The feeling of his magician's wax leaking down my throat got my
spaff flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. My depravity cavity
was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. By now, my slime hole
was haemorrhaging like a jizz waterfall. After having my cod cave fucked, he
then proceeded to pound my fart valve. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the
floor was the least of my worries as his washington monument slid deeper into
my other vagina. The unrelenting orgasms from his ample cock slamming my moose
knuckle made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked
shipping container. The fucking of my chocolate starfish was so vigorous, he
soon found his trouser conkors joining his womb raider deep in my poop chute.

My
mouth was so full of purple-headed trouser snake and ectoplasm, the love piss
was oozing down my chin and onto my chesticles. If I don't stimulate the
genitals through phalangetic motion to get my minge monsoon oozing from my
tampon tunnel, his skeleton king is going to leave my clap flaps resembling a
rabid baboon's arse. Some girls are happy just to get a stinky pinky when
they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 10 inch purple
battery-operated monster in my wizards sleeve and a 15" spiked vibrator up
my chocolate starfish. The unrelenting orgasms from his battering ram fucking
my stench trench made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy near an
unlocked shipping container. With his stilton spear pounding deep into my cock
holster, the sensation of his pink tractor beam smashing my cervix made me
quiver like jelly. The mixture of sewer trout and man fat in my soft tight anus
created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. By now, my
shamevelope was leaking like a George Foreman grill. Leaving my panties sunny
side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his slut slayer shoved
deeper into my fudge factory. He munched on my lunchmeat, even though I'd been
up on bricks for the best part of a week. My penis pothole was trembling like a
rat on acid. The raiding makes me flood my beige slime all over his slut
slayer. The seemingly never-ending streams of Da Vinci load emanating from his
greasy slimelight soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The pounding of
my vintage golf bag was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining
his meaty member deep in my chocolate starfish. There was ectoplasm seeping
from his brie baton and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready
for more. It was bliss having his gristle missile rammed inside me again;
stuffing my tuna canal with a 9-iron just didn't get my vibrator crater
spattering like it used to. I can't wait to suck the love mayonnaise from his
womb raider. The feeling of his love mayonnaise trickling down my throat got my
sex wee flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Inserting a 15" spiked
vibrator into my salmon slit got me flowing fallopian fish stock faster than
snot off a whip. He curled a giant sewer trout on my love bubbles just so he
could chow down on it up like a pig at a trough. When he removed his
wensleydale wand from my vintage golf bag, he was pleasantly surprised to see a
footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume
the butt nugget off his meaty member. After having my clam-flavoured pothole
raided, he then proceeded to hammer my marmite motorway. With my flappy meal
now much like a clown's pocket, he thought it was time to start probing my
turd-herder. Is now the time to tell him I really need to extrude a footlong
fudge bullet, I wondered? Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's open-faced
ham sandwich looking like a dropped burrito, and I was no different! I awoke
the next morning with my cod crater still dripping. I thought it was over but
his tenderloin truncheon had other ideas. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a
rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his cunt stretcher made my sex wee
slobber like a slavering dog.

My
frilling pink golf bag was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert.
The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and love piss in my vintage golf bag created
the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. The feeling of his baby gravy
leaching down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than a greased
weasel shit. After having my vaginal bacon buffet thrusted, he then proceeded
to slam my brown mile. With his blind butler thrusting deep into my wunder down
under, the sensation of his flesh gordon smashing my cervix made me quiver like
Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. I awoke the next morning with my
clearing in the woods still leaking. I thought it was over but his spunk-filled
spam rocket had other ideas. I can't wait to consume the cock custard from his
gristle missile. By now, my ruby cave was foaming like a slug in a salt mine.
Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my slime hole got me ejecting
vertical moisture faster than snot off a whip. If I don't flick the bean to get
my minge mucus flowing from my clearing in the woods, his chorizo howitzer is
going to leave my flappy meal resembling a ripped out fireplace. With my flappy
meal now much like a dropped burrito, he thought it was time to start shoving
my poop chute. Is now the time to tell him I really need to ease a sewer trout,
I wondered? Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the
sight of his greasy slimelight made my tuna tunnel tears ooze like Wayne
Rooney's dick in an OAP home. He munched on my roast beef platter, even though
I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. The unrelenting
orgasms from his muffbuster thrusting my shamevelope made me come so hard, I
began sweating like Gary glitter at PC World. The seemingly never-ending
streams of cock custard emanating from his tallywacker soon had me coated like
a plasterer's radio. Within no time, I could feel the shitty magician's wax
dribbling from my poop chute and all over my meaty hangers. He extruded a giant
Mr. Hanky on my tatas just so he could gobble it up like a bulldog eating
porridge. My throat was so full of blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon and
ectoplasm, the love mayonnaise was flowing down my chin and onto my sweater
puppies. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my
worries as his spam javelin slid deeper into my poop chute. The thrusting of my
balloon knot was so vigorous, he soon found his kids on a swing joining his
all-beef thermometer deep in my puckered brown eye. The fucking makes me flow
my fallopian fish stock all over his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus. Some
girls are happy just to buff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off
without having a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in my south mouth and
a gerbil up my poo pipe. When he removed his piss pipe from my soft tight anus,
he was pleasantly surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet staring back as him.
He knew I couldn't wait to lap the colon cobra off his love lollipop. It was
bliss having his womb ferret shoved inside me again; stuffing my ladytown with
a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster just didn't get my smush mitten
squirting like it used to. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's
meaty hangers looking like that bathroom door in The Shining, and I was no
different!

Hours
of pounding like this would leave any girl's open-faced ham sandwich looking
like a stuntman's knee, and I was no different! Inserting my fist into my
ground zero grotto got me splurging tuna tunnel tears faster than greased shit
off a shiny shovel. When he removed his clunger from my fudge factory, he was
pleasantly surprised to see a colon cobra staring back as him. He knew I
couldn't wait to chow down on the butt nugget off his purple-headed trouser
snake. There was love mayonnaise weeping from his timed slimer and I was wetter
than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. I can't wait to gobble the
steamin' semen from his cream reaper. The hammering of my shit winker was so
vigorous, he soon found his trouser conkors joining his batter blaster deep in
my mud flap. The feeling of his cock snot leaking down my throat got my tuna
tunnel tears flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Some girls are happy just to
study english cliterature when they're alone, but I can't get off without
having an egg timer in my wunder down under and a lightbulb up my other vagina.
By now, my bearded haddock pasty was oozing like a George Foreman grill. My throat
was so full of stilton spear and gentleman's relish, the penis pudding was
trickling down my chin and onto my rack. If I don't stimulate the genitals
through phalangetic motion to get my beige slime weeping from my fuck gutter,
his cheese-crusted cock is going to leave my vertical garden resembling Terry
Waite's allotment. He arced a giant Mr. Hanky on my boobage just so he could
devour it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The seemingly never-ending streams
of steamin' semen emanating from his blind butler soon had me coated like a
plasterer's radio. Within no time, I could feel the shitty baby gravy trickling
from my brown eye and all over my clap flaps. My south mouth was trembling like
jelly. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my
worries as his ample cock shoved deeper into my chocolate starfish. The raiding
makes me spritz my fallopian fish stock all over his giggle stick. Now, I've
been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his one-eyed
monster made my clunge gunge haemorrhage like a hungry pig at a trough. I awoke
the next morning with my ground zero grotto still foaming. I thought it was
over but his clunger had other ideas. The mixture of toilet twinkie and penis
pudding in my fudge factory created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was
so fond of. He munched on my furburger, even though I'd had my redwings for the
best part of a week. With his slut slayer hammering deep into my wizards
sleeve, the sensation of his long-dong silver smashing my cervix made me quake
like a rat on acid. With my piss flaps now much like badly battered road kill,
he thought it was time to start probing my balloon knot. Is now the time to
tell him I really need to ease a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? The unrelenting orgasms
from his wrist-thick wand thrusting my quim made me come so hard, I began
sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. After having my clearing in the
woods raided, he then proceeded to pound my brown eye.

My
cake hole was so full of chorizo howitzer and man fat, the Da Vinci load was
haemorrhaging down my chin and onto my mammaries. If I don't study english
cliterature to get my fallopian fish stock sliming from my hot pocket, his
tenderloin truncheon is going to leave my hairy goblet resembling a hippo's yawn.
The feeling of his steamin' semen weeping down my throat got my vertical
moisture flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. Leaving my panties sunny
side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cervix cigar plunged
deeper into my turd cutter. He pinched off a giant butt nugget on my
breasticles just so he could lap it up like a pig at a trough. The raiding
makes me splurge my shrimp sap all over his purple-headed trouser snake. I
awoke the next morning with my pink velvet sausage wallet still flowing. I
thought it was over but his brie baton had other ideas. The unrelenting orgasms
from his purple beaver buster fucking my vibration station made me come so
hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. With his meaty
member hammering deep into my gashtray, the sensation of his bugger king
smashing my cervix made me quake like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery.
There was love mayonnaise leaching from his pink tractor beam and I was wetter
than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. Within no time, I could
feel the shitty magician's wax seeping from my Mavis Fritter and all over my
roast beef platter. It was bliss having his wrist-thick wand probed inside me
again; stuffing my quim with my fist just didn't get my vibration station
spraying like it used to. My clearing in the woods was trembling like jelly. By
now, my sperm socket was leaching like someone had poured fairy liquid into
Niagara Falls. The mixture of butt nugget and creamy load in my chocolate
starfish created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. Now,
I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his
spunk-filled spam rocket made my sex wee slobber like a leaky tap. After having
my penis pothole hammered, he then proceeded to slam my tradesman's entrance.
With my beef curtains now much like badly battered road kill, he thought it was
time to start stuffing my turd cutter. Is now the time to tell him I really
need to launch a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator
into my mound of love pudding got me squirting tuna tunnel tears faster than
snot off a whip. He munched on my spam castanets, even though I'd had the
painters in for the best part of a week. I can't wait to chow down on the cock
snot from his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus. The seemingly never-ending
streams of cock custard emanating from his master of ceremonies soon had me
coated like a plasterer's radio. When he removed his bald-headed yogurt slinger
from my Oxo orifice, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget
staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the Mr. Hanky off
his spam dagger. The fucking of my ring piece was so vigorous, he soon found
his family jewels joining his sperminator deep in my fudge factory. Some girls
are happy just to strum the banjo when they're alone, but I can't get off
without having a 15" spiked vibrator in my moose knuckle and a barbie doll
up my turd-herder.