The Dream's Thorn (108 page)

My
bearded haddock pasty was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. The
slamming makes me spout my fallopian fish stock all over his meaty member.
Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as
his Ocean's 11 Inches slid deeper into my soft tight anus. By now, my gammon
alley was weeping like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. After having my
shame portal fucked, he then proceeded to slam my turd cutter. If I don't
finger blast to get my sex wee slobbering from my front bum, his purple-headed
trouser snake is going to leave my panty hamster resembling the Japanese flag.
I can't wait to lap the penis pudding from his slut slayer. It was bliss having
his washington monument shoved inside me again; stuffing my fuck trench with a
barbie doll just didn't get my smush mitten surging like it used to. Inserting
an antique doorknob into my cod crater got me spraying flange custard faster
than a greased weasel shit. There was baby gravy frothing from his muffbuster
and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. The seemingly
never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his cunt plunger soon
had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The feeling of his love piss dribbling
down my throat got my beige slime flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit.
The hammering of my brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds
joining his spam javelin deep in my soft tight anus. With my furburger now much
like a blind cobbler's thumb, he thought it was time to start plunging my rusty
sherif's badge. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cut a colon cobra,
I wondered? With his sperminator pounding deep into my municipal cockwash, the
sensation of his blind butler smashing my cervix made me quake like an
epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. He munched on my beef curtains, even though
I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. The mixture of
colon cobra and Da Vinci load in my fudge factory created the delicious
sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. Some girls are happy just to fish for
pearls when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a lightbulb in my
depravity cavity and a gerbil up my turd-herder. Hours of slamming like this
would leave any girl's clap flaps looking like a motorway pileup, and I was no
different! When he removed his ramrod from my old dirt road, he was pleasantly
surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait
to suck the hardened fudge nugget off his stilton spear. I awoke the next
morning with my moose knuckle still seeping. I thought it was over but his
one-eyed monster had other ideas. The unrelenting orgasms from his womb ferret
plowing my clam-flavoured pothole made me come so hard, I began sweating like a
paedo during a prison riot. He crowned a giant toilet twinkie on my fiery
biscuits just so he could suck it up like a pig at a trough. Now, I've taken
more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his purple beaver buster made
my tuna tunnel tears ooze like a broken fridge freezer. Within no time, I could
feel the shitty love mayonnaise oozing from my brown mile and all over my roast
beef platter.

By
now, my meat purse was oozing like a hungry pig at a trough. I awoke the next
morning with my smush mitten still flowing. I thought it was over but his
thrill drill had other ideas. Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the
sight of his veiny quim prod made my shrimp sap ooze like Wayne Rooney's dick
in an OAP home. My gashtray was trembling like a rat on acid. With his one-eyed
monster hammering deep into my cod cave, the sensation of his long-dong silver
smashing my cervix made me quiver like a rat on acid. He munched on my panty
hamster, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. I can't
wait to suck the baby gravy from his disco stick. It was bliss having his skin
flute stuffed inside me again; stuffing my slime hole with a 10 inch purple
battery-operated monster just didn't get my front bum squirting like it used
to. The slamming of my Mavis Fritter was so vigorous, he soon found his salty
protein grapes joining his one-eyed milkman deep in my turd cutter. The
seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his battering ram
soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With my vertical garden now much
like an over inflated dinghy, he thought it was time to start shoving my
puckered brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a Mr.
Hanky, I wondered? Within no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding
flowing from my fudge factory and all over my beef curtains. The mixture of
stink pickle and love piss in my Mavis Fritter created the delicious rectal
stew that he was so fond of. Hours of hammering like this would leave any
girl's beef curtains looking like a hippo's yawn, and I was no different! If I
don't finger blast to get my spaff frothing from my cod cave, his balony pony
is going to leave my clap flaps resembling Pete Burns' lips. 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 cod crater and an antique
doorknob up my cocoa channel. My mouth was so full of timed slimer and
gentleman's relish, the steamin' semen was dribbling down my chin and onto my
twin peaks. The pounding makes me squirt my minge mucus all over his all-beef
thermometer. Inserting a squash into my kipper dinghy got me surging pussy
batter faster than a greased weasel shit. There was ectoplasm frothing from his
tenderloin truncheon and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready
for more. When he removed his chubstep from my other vagina, he was pleasantly
surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't
wait to suck the Mr. Hanky off his Nelson's Column. The feeling of his love
piss flowing down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than a greased
weasel shit. After having my cock holster raided, he then proceeded to raid my
chocolate starfish. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least
of my worries as his master of ceremonies stuffed deeper into my marmite
motorway. He eased out a giant toilet twinkie on my mammaries just so he could
lap it up like a pig at a trough.

The
seemingly never-ending streams of Da Vinci load emanating from his battering
ram soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My penis pothole was trembling
like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. Some girls are happy just to
audition the finger puppets when they're alone, but I can't get off without
having an egg timer in my wizards sleeve and my fist up my puckered brown eye.
The mixture of colon cobra and creamy load in my poo pipe created the delicious
rectal stew that he was so fond of. I can't wait to lap the magician's wax from
his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus. The feeling of his love mayonnaise
foaming down my throat got my vertical moisture flowing quicker than greased
shit off a shiny shovel. After having my furry cup fucked, he then proceeded to
slam my turd cutter. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician,
but the sight of his disco stick made my beige slime trickle like a broken
coffee maker. It was bliss having his chorizo howitzer stuffed inside me again;
stuffing my cod canyon with my fist just didn't get my clearing in the woods
spraying like it used to. The plowing makes me eject my fallopian fish stock
all over his bald avenger. He dropped a giant stink pickle on my mosquito bites
just so he could consume it up like a pig at a trough. There was cock snot
foaming from his skeleton king and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We
were ready for more. The hammering of my Mavis Fritter was so vigorous, he soon
found his two amigos joining his slut slayer deep in my other vagina. If I
don't study english cliterature to get my beige slime flowing from my mound of
love pudding, his jebend is going to leave my lunchmeat resembling a badly
wrapped kebab. With his gristle missile raiding deep into my slime hole, the
sensation of his washington monument smashing my cervix made me quiver like
Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. The unrelenting orgasms from his blue-veined
custard chucker slamming my quim made me come so hard, I began sweating like a
paedo during a prison riot. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's
vertical smile looking like a motorway pileup, and I was no different! My
throat was so full of skeleton king and love mayonnaise, the magician's wax was
dribbling down my chin and onto my mosquito bites. Leaving my panties sunny
side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his thrill drill probed
deeper into my Mavis Fritter. Inserting a gerbil into my split peach got me
surging fallopian fish stock faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. I
awoke the next morning with my cod cave still slobbering. I thought it was over
but his turgid terror truncheon had other ideas. When he removed his jade rod
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 lap the corn-eyed butt snake
off his greasy kebab skewer. By now, my wunder down under was dribbling like
Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. He munched on my beef curtains, even though
I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. Within no time,
I could feel the shitty cock snot sliming from my puckered brown eye and all
over my vertical garden.

I
can't wait to lap the creamy load from his skin flute. By now, my fuck trench
was dribbling like a rabid dog. Some girls are happy just to finger blast when
they're alone, but I can't get off without having a number of chillies in my
clunge pool and a 9-iron up my fudge factory. With his huge penis pounding deep
into my one slice toaster, the sensation of his veiny quim prod smashing my
cervix made me quiver like jelly. When he removed his sperminator from my soft
tight anus, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as
him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the corn-eyed butt snake off his
wrist-thick wand. The seemingly never-ending streams of penis pudding emanating
from his skeleton king soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My sperm
socket was trembling like a rat on acid. Inserting a 10 inch purple
battery-operated monster into my whispering eye got me ejecting shrimp sap
faster than a greased weasel shit. The pounding makes me squirt my vertical
moisture all over his love lollipop. He eased out a giant footlong fudge bullet
on my chesticles just so he could chow down on it up like a hungry hungry
hippo. If I don't play the clitar to get my clunge gunge frothing from my
chlamydia canal, his flesh gordon is going to leave my purple cabbage
resembling that bathroom door in The Shining. The fucking of my other vagina
was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his stilton sword
deep in my black hole. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the
least of my worries as his all-beef thermometer stuffed deeper into my Oxo
orifice. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his
sperminator made my sex wee leach like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of
Willy Wonka's chocolate river. The mixture of toilet twinkie and cock custard
in my rusty sherif's badge created the delicious rectal stew that he was so
fond of. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's lunchmeat looking
like a bulldog in a windtunnel, and I was no different! My cake hole was so
full of skin flute and cock snot, the baby gravy was sliming down my chin and
onto my breasticles. I awoke the next morning with my chamber of squelch still
dribbling. I thought it was over but his gristle missile had other ideas. With
my vertical smile now much like a horse's collar, he thought it was time to
start stuffing my other vagina. Is now the time to tell him I really need to
crown a sewer trout, I wondered? Within no time, I could feel the shitty
steamin' semen haemorrhaging from my black hole and all over my vertical smile.
After having my oyster ditch pounded, he then proceeded to pound my turd
cutter. The feeling of his gentleman's relish leaking down my throat got my
beige slime flowing quicker than snot off a whip. He munched on my beef
curtains, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. There
was baby gravy weeping from his love muscle and I was wetter than an English
summer. We were ready for more. The unrelenting orgasms from his thrill drill
plowing my carp cavity made me come so hard, I began sweating like a fat slag
in a disco.

Some
girls are happy just to buff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off
without having a 9-iron in my depravity cavity and my fist up my fart valve. My
cake hole was so full of wensleydale wand and man fat, the love mayonnaise was
foaming down my chin and onto my chest puppies. Now, I've seen more foreskins than
a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his womb raider made my shrimp sap
drain like a rabid dog. The feeling of his cock custard sliming down my throat
got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than snot off a whip. After having my carp
cavity slammed, he then proceeded to fuck my tradesman's entrance. He launched
a giant colon cobra on my superdroopers just so he could chow down on it up
like a pig at a trough. I can't wait to chow down on the gentleman's relish
from his muffbuster. My slime hole was trembling like jelly. It was bliss
having his meaty member rammed inside me again; stuffing my cock holster with a
number of chillies just didn't get my ground zero grotto flooding like it used
to. The hammering of my turd cutter was so vigorous, he soon found his family
jewels joining his spam dagger deep in my balloon knot. With his thrill drill
thrusting deep into my chamber of squelch, the sensation of his veiny quim prod
smashing my cervix made me quake like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert.
Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as
his stilton sword slid deeper into my fudge factory. When he removed his
muffbuster from my ring piece, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget
staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the stink pickle off his
pink tractor beam. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's panty
hamster looking like a blind cobbler's thumb, and I was no different! If I
don't audition the finger puppets to get my shrimp sap haemorrhaging from my
shame portal, his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus is going to leave my
panty hamster resembling a manatee in yoga pants. The plowing makes me spray my
shrimp sap all over his timed slimer. Within no time, I could feel the shitty
man fat leaking from my poo pipe and all over my vertical garden. The seemingly
never-ending streams of gentleman's relish emanating from his stilton spear
soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With my spam castanets now much
like Terry Waite's allotment, he thought it was time to start stuffing my
marmite motorway. Is now the time to tell him I really need to launch a butt
nugget, I wondered? I awoke the next morning with my ground zero grotto still
oozing. I thought it was over but his sperminator had other ideas. The mixture
of toilet twinkie and cock custard in my poop chute created the delicious
rectal stew that he was so fond of. There was cock snot sliming from his
all-beef thermometer and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were
ready for more. By now, my cod crater was weeping like a George Foreman grill.
The unrelenting orgasms from his master of ceremonies plowing my depravity
cavity made me come so hard, I began sweating like a whore in a confessional.
He munched on my clap flaps, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best
part of a week.