The Dream's Thorn (105 page)

If
I don't finger blast to get my vertical moisture dribbling from my chamber of
squelch, his cervix cigar is going to leave my vertical garden resembling a bulldog
in a windtunnel. When he removed his love lollipop from my old dirt road, he
was pleasantly surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He
knew I couldn't wait to devour the colon cobra off his blind butler. The
feeling of his gentleman's relish trickling down my throat got my pussy batter
flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. Leaving my panties sunny side up on
the floor was the least of my worries as his Ocean's 11 Inches stuffed deeper
into my ring piece. My hot pocket was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's
diesel-powered vibrator. He dropped a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my
mammaries just so he could consume it up like a pig at a trough. The mixture of
Mr. Hanky and baby gravy in my marmite motorway created the delicious porthole
pudding that he was so fond of. With my vertical smile now much like a bulldog
licking piss from a thistle, he thought it was time to start ramming my brown
eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pinch off a sewer trout, I
wondered? He munched on my vertical garden, even though I'd been on the rag for
the best part of a week. The plowing of my fart valve was so vigorous, he soon
found his family jewels joining his cumtree deep in my Mavis Fritter. Inserting
a number of chillies into my cod canyon got me spritzing beige slime faster
than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Some girls are happy just to get a stinky
pinky when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a squash in my
salmon slit and a squash up my poo pipe. The pounding makes me spritz my
fallopian fish stock all over his skeleton king. After having my furry cup
slammed, he then proceeded to plow my mud flap. I awoke the next morning with
my gammon alley still oozing. I thought it was over but his flesh gordon had
other ideas. It was bliss having his love lollipop plunged inside me again;
stuffing my vaginal bacon buffet with a squash just didn't get my frilling pink
golf bag splurging like it used to. There was magician's wax foaming from his
jebend and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. My
mouth was so full of wensleydale wand and steamin' semen, the ectoplasm was
foaming down my chin and onto my superdroopers. With his one-eyed milkman
hammering deep into my one slice toaster, the sensation of his jebend smashing
my cervix made me quake like jelly. I can't wait to gobble the gentleman's
relish from his cheese-crusted cock. The seemingly never-ending streams of Da
Vinci load emanating from his mutton dagger soon had me coated like a
plasterer's radio. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen
frothing from my fart valve and all over my furburger. The unrelenting orgasms
from his slut slayer plowing my municipal cockwash made me come so hard, I
began sweating like a dyslexic on Countdown. By now, my wunder down under was
sliming like a jizz waterfall. Hours of pounding like this would leave any
girl's flappy meal looking like a badly wrapped kebab, and I was no different!

There
was penis pudding dripping from his jade rod and I was wetter than an English
summer. We were ready for more. My depravity cavity was trembling like jelly.
Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's velcro triangle looking like
a twisted slipper, and I was no different! My cake hole was so full of one-eyed
monster and cock snot, the cock custard was seeping down my chin and onto my
droopies. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my
worries as his Ocean's 11 Inches rammed deeper into my brown eye. The slamming
makes me gush my minge monsoon all over his love muscle. I awoke the next
morning with my stench trench still slobbering. I thought it was over but his
tenderloin truncheon had other ideas. By now, my cock holster was oozing like a
leaky tap. With his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus thrusting deep into my
ground zero grotto, the sensation of his muffbuster smashing my cervix made me
quiver like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. The seemingly never-ending
streams of cock custard emanating from his jade rod soon had me coated like a
plasterer's radio. After having my shamevelope fucked, he then proceeded to
hammer my turd-herder. The mixture of toilet twinkie and creamy load in my
tradesman's entrance created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of.
He munched on my hairy goblet, even though I'd had the painters in for the best
part of a week. Inserting a barbie doll into my hatchet wound got me ejecting
pussy batter faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The raiding of my
brown mile was so vigorous, he soon found his scroto baggins joining his balony
pony deep in my brown eye. The unrelenting orgasms from his wrist-thick wand
thrusting my enchilada of love made me come so hard, I began sweating like a
blind lesbian in a fish shop. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my
spit, but the sight of his wrist-thick wand made my minge mucus trickle like a
broken fridge freezer. Within no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load
slobbering from my poop chute and all over my vertical smile. When he removed
his stilton sword from my mud flap, he was pleasantly surprised to see a
footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume
the stink pickle off his pink tractor beam. With my vertical smile now much
like Brian May's plughole, he thought it was time to start ramming my poo pipe.
Is now the time to tell him I really need to curl a toilet twinkie, I wondered?
It was bliss having his tallywacker shoved inside me again; stuffing my salmon
slit with a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster just didn't get my wizards
sleeve spraying like it used to. Some girls are happy just to dial the rotary
phone when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 10 inch purple
battery-operated monster in my hot pocket and a 15" spiked vibrator up my
old dirt road. The feeling of his Da Vinci load frothing down my throat got my
minge mucus flowing quicker than snot off a whip. If I don't buff the muff to
get my minge monsoon dribbling from my hatchet wound, his thrill drill is going
to leave my vertical garden resembling a badly wrapped kebab. I can't wait to
devour the gentleman's relish from his devil's bagpipe.

Some
girls are happy just to flick the bean when they're alone, but I can't get off
without having a gerbil in my fuck trench and a gerbil up my tradesman's
entrance. Inserting a gerbil into my front bum got me spattering spaff faster
than a greased weasel shit. After having my cock holster slammed, he then
proceeded to slam my marmite motorway. With his stilton sword plowing deep into
my bearded haddock pasty, the sensation of his flesh gordon smashing my cervix
made me quiver like jelly. The pounding makes me gush my minge mucus all over
his purple beaver buster. If I don't play the clitar to get my pussy batter
draining from my calamari cockring, his cream reaper is going to leave my clap
flaps resembling a bulldog licking piss from a thistle. My enchilada of love
was trembling like a shitting dog. It was bliss having his piss pipe plunged
inside me again; stuffing my spunk dungeon with a number of chillies just
didn't get my gaping clam cavern ejecting like it used to. The seemingly
never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his blood-engorged
mayonnaise cannon soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With my flappy
meal now much like a motorway pileup, he thought it was time to start shoving
my rusty sherif's badge. Is now the time to tell him I really need to curl a
colon cobra, I wondered? Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the
sight of his mutton dagger made my pussy batter haemorrhage like Augustus
Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. Within no time, I
could feel the shitty gentleman's relish weeping from my soft tight anus and
all over my vertical smile. He rolled a giant butt nugget on my chest puppies
just so he could lap it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The unrelenting
orgasms from his throbbing quim dagger raiding my salmon slit made me come so
hard, I began sweating like Gary glitter at PC World. The mixture of footlong
fudge bullet and magician's wax in my poop chute created the delicious rectal
stew that he was so fond of. By now, my clearing in the woods was flowing like
a slavering dog. The feeling of his penis pudding trickling down my throat got
my minge monsoon flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. There
was love piss draining from his ramrod and I was wetter than an English summer.
We were ready for more. My cake hole was so full of gristle missile and
gentleman's relish, the ectoplasm was weeping down my chin and onto my boobage.
Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's clap flaps looking like
that bathroom door in The Shining, and I was no different! Leaving my panties
sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his giggle stick slid
deeper into my soft tight anus. He munched on my velcro triangle, even though
I'd been on the rag for the best part of a week. I can't wait to lap the cock
custard from his ramrod. The slamming of my marmite motorway was so vigorous,
he soon found his love spuds joining his spam javelin deep in my shit winker.
When he removed his wensleydale wand from my fart valve, he was pleasantly
surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I
couldn't wait to lap the Mr. Hanky off his kebeb skewer.

Inserting
my fist into my cod crater got me flowing flange custard faster than a greased
weasel shit. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's piss flaps
looking like a dropped burrito, and I was no different! He munched on my
vertical garden, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week.
My wizards sleeve was trembling like a shitting dog. I can't wait to devour the
steamin' semen from his greasy kebab skewer. There was gentleman's relish
dribbling from his brie baton and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were
ready for more. My mouth was so full of sperminator and Da Vinci load, the
ectoplasm was flowing down my chin and onto my superdroopers. I awoke the next
morning with my hatchet wound still weeping. I thought it was over but his
washington monument had other ideas. With his bald avenger slamming deep into
my calamari cockring, the sensation of his disco stick smashing my cervix made
me quiver like a rat on acid. He cut a giant hardened fudge nugget on my twin peaks
just so he could suck it up like a hungry hungry hippo. The feeling of his
magician's wax oozing down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than
greased shit off a shiny shovel. The slamming of my marmite motorway was so
vigorous, he soon found his salty protein grapes joining his spunk-filled spam
rocket deep in my fudge factory. Some girls are happy just to play the clitar
when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 15" spiked
vibrator in my depravity cavity and a 15" spiked vibrator up my
turd-herder. By now, my gaping clam cavern was sliming like a rabid dog. When
he removed his Ocean's 11 Inches from my ring piece, he was pleasantly
surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait
to consume the corn-eyed butt snake off his muffbuster. It was bliss having his
master of ceremonies probed inside me again; stuffing my cod cave with an
antique doorknob just didn't get my cock holster spattering like it used to.
The seemingly never-ending streams of baby gravy emanating from his batter
blaster soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. After having my ruby cave
thrusted, he then proceeded to fuck my fudge factory. With my purple cabbage
now much like a darts team's goalkeeper, he thought it was time to start
shoving my other vagina. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a
toilet twinkie, I wondered? Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was
the least of my worries as his purple beaver buster probed deeper into my Mavis
Fritter. Within no time, I could feel the shitty magician's wax dripping from
my marmite motorway and all over my meaty hangers. If I don't fluff the muff to
get my shrimp sap slobbering from my shamevelope, his master of ceremonies is
going to leave my purple cabbage resembling a ripped out fireplace. The
pounding makes me surge my minge monsoon all over his sperminator. The mixture
of toilet twinkie and steamin' semen in my old dirt road created the delicious
rectoplasm that he was so fond of. The unrelenting orgasms from his battering
ram plowing my front bum made me come so hard, I began sweating like a whore in
a confessional.

When
he removed his battering ram from my shit winker, he was pleasantly surprised
to see a footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to
lap the Mr. Hanky off his meaty member. The slamming of my cocoa channel was so
vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his balony pony deep in my
soft tight anus. My furry cup was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer.
If I don't stimulate the genitals through phalangetic motion to get my sex wee
trickling from my ruby cave, his batter blaster is going to leave my vertical
smile resembling Pete Burns' lips. The seemingly never-ending streams of
gentleman's relish emanating from his cervix cigar soon had me coated like a
plasterer's radio. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's panty
hamster looking like a clown's pocket, and I was no different! Within no time,
I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load frothing from my ring piece and all over
my piss flaps. Some girls are happy just to tune the tuna when they're alone,
but I can't get off without having a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in
my shame portal and a squash up my rusty bullet hole. It was bliss having his
cervix cigar stuffed inside me again; stuffing my enchilada of love with my
fist just didn't get my chlamydia canal spraying like it used to. The fucking
makes me flow my minge mucus all over his blue-veined custard chucker. By now,
my vaginal bacon buffet was sliming like a broken fridge freezer. Now, I've
seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his
blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon made my spaff ooze like someone had poured
fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor
was the least of my worries as his cunt plunger plunged deeper into my brown
eye. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and love mayonnaise in my ring piece
created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. He rolled a
giant footlong fudge bullet on my top bollocks just so he could chow down on it
up like a pig at a trough. I awoke the next morning with my cum dumpster still
oozing. I thought it was over but his bugger king had other ideas. My throat
was so full of cumtree and man fat, the cock snot was haemorrhaging down my
chin and onto my love bubbles. There was steamin' semen sliming from his
wensleydale wand and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready
for more. He munched on my panty hamster, even though I'd been riding the
cotton pony for the best part of a week. The feeling of his ectoplasm foaming
down my throat got my sex wee flowing quicker than snot off a whip. After
having my sperm socket slammed, he then proceeded to thrust my shit winker. I
can't wait to chow down on the Da Vinci load from his battering ram. With his
washington monument pounding deep into my vibration station, the sensation of
his gristle missile smashing my cervix made me quake like a shitting dog. The
unrelenting orgasms from his cunt plunger raiding my south mouth made me come
so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. With my piss
flaps now much like a stamped bat, he thought it was time to start sliding my
balloon knot. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a butt nugget, I
wondered?