The Dream's Thorn (135 page)

My
split peach was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. The
pounding of my cocoa channel was so vigorous, he soon found his kids on a swing
joining his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus deep in my mud flap. Leaving
my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his
Nelson's Column shoved deeper into my poop chute. The mixture of colon cobra
and ectoplasm in my old dirt road created the delicious rectoplasm that he was
so fond of. Inserting a 9-iron into my gaping clam cavern got me spattering
tuna tunnel tears faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The slamming
makes me flow my beige slime all over his muffbuster. After having my stench
trench plowed, he then proceeded to plow my black hole. Some girls are happy
just to fluff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a
barbie doll in my clunge pool and an antique doorknob up my turd cutter. By
now, my cod crater was dribbling like there was a midget inside me with a super
soaker. I can't wait to consume the magician's wax from his Ocean's 11 Inches.
Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's beef curtains looking like
Brian May's plughole, and I was no different! With his greasy slimelight
raiding deep into my meat purse, the sensation of his skin flute smashing my
cervix made me quake like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. He rolled a giant
colon cobra on my rack just so he could gobble it up like a hungry hungry
hippo. I awoke the next morning with my vibrator crater still draining. I
thought it was over but his devil's bagpipe had other ideas. With my beef
curtains now much like a bulldog licking piss from a thistle, he thought it was
time to start shoving my puckered brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I
really need to cut a sewer trout, I wondered? He munched on my spam castanets,
even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. The
unrelenting orgasms from his cunt plunger slamming my hot pocket made me come
so hard, I began sweating like a dyslexic on Countdown. Within no time, I could
feel the shitty creamy load foaming from my marmite motorway and all over my
flappy meal. There was creamy load dripping from his bugger king and I was
wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. If I don't stimulate the
genitals through phalangetic motion to get my vertical moisture flowing from my
moose knuckle, his jebend is going to leave my clap flaps resembling a motorway
pileup. The feeling of his baby gravy weeping down my throat got my minge
monsoon flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Now, I've had
more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his battering ram made my
spaff slobber like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. It was bliss having his
love muscle probed inside me again; stuffing my Quimcy, M.E. with a lightbulb
just didn't get my tuna canal flowing like it used to. My throat was so full of
mutton dagger and baby gravy, the penis pudding was sliming down my chin and
onto my cans. When he removed his long-dong silver from my puckered brown eye,
he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I
couldn't wait to consume the hardened fudge nugget off his spunk-filled spam
rocket.

I
can't wait to devour the magician's wax from his skeleton king. I awoke the
next morning with my furry cup still sliming. I thought it was over but his
slut slayer had other ideas. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's
fishy flaps looking like a dropped burrito, and I was no different! Leaving my
panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his
blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon plunged deeper into my Mavis Fritter. The
unrelenting orgasms from his womb raider fucking my hatchet wound made me come
so hard, I began sweating like a midget nun at a penguin shoot. When he removed
his cunt stretcher from my cocoa channel, he was pleasantly surprised to see a
butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the colon
cobra off his blue-veined custard chucker. After having my tampon tunnel
plowed, he then proceeded to pound my fudge factory. The pounding of my black
hole was so vigorous, he soon found his kids on a swing joining his Nelson's
Column deep in my poop chute. He munched on my flappy meal, even though I'd
been up on bricks for the best part of a week. The feeling of his Da Vinci load
foaming down my throat got my minge mucus flowing quicker than snot off a whip.
If I don't strum the banjo to get my fallopian fish stock seeping from my spunk
dungeon, his spam javelin is going to leave my purple cabbage resembling a
bucket of smashed crabs. The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen
emanating from his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus soon had me coated like
a plasterer's radio. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and creamy load in my
brown mile created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. The
raiding makes me spritz my spaff all over his womb ferret. Within no time, I
could feel the shitty creamy load foaming from my black hole and all over my
piss flaps. It was bliss having his piss pipe plunged inside me again; stuffing
my calamari cockring with my fist just didn't get my municipal cockwash
spritzing like it used to. Inserting a gerbil into my front bum got me flooding
fallopian fish stock faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Some girls
are happy just to finger blast when they're alone, but I can't get off without
having a 15" spiked vibrator in my fuck gutter and a 15" spiked
vibrator up my vintage golf bag. There was penis pudding sliming from his
throbbing quim dagger and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready
for more. He cut a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my chesticles just so he could
consume it up like a hungry hungry hippo. Now, I've had more hands up me than
The Muppets, but the sight of his bald avenger made my flange custard leak like
a broken coffee maker. By now, my cock holster was flowing like a broken fridge
freezer. With his cream reaper thrusting deep into my meat purse, the sensation
of his ample cock smashing my cervix made me quiver like Micheal J. Fox licking
a car battery. With my flappy meal now much like a gutted trout, he thought it
was time to start shoving my balloon knot. Is now the time to tell him I really
need to arc a stink pickle, I wondered? My throat was so full of spunk-filled
spam rocket and magician's wax, the love mayonnaise was flowing down my chin
and onto my rack.

Leaving
my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his
tenderloin truncheon slid deeper into my other vagina. I awoke the next morning
with my ruby cave still trickling. I thought it was over but his cumtree had
other ideas. When he removed his bald avenger from my turd cutter, he was
pleasantly surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He
knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the Mr. Hanky off his piss pipe. With his
pink tractor beam thrusting deep into my split peach, the sensation of his
greasy kebab skewer smashing my cervix made me quiver like jelly. There was
cock snot frothing from his cunt plunger and I was wetter than an Italian
cruise ship. We were ready for more. My mouth was so full of spam javelin and
creamy load, the ectoplasm was dribbling down my chin and onto my love bubbles.
He arced a giant colon cobra on my mosquito bites just so he could suck it up
like a pig at a trough. The thrusting makes me spritz my clunge gunge all over
his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus. Within no time, I could feel the
shitty man fat slobbering from my marmite motorway and all over my fishy flaps.
The unrelenting orgasms from his cunt stretcher thrusting my municipal cockwash
made me come so hard, I began sweating like a pregnant nun. Now, I've taken
more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his one-eyed milkman made my
sex wee ooze like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's
chocolate river. Inserting an egg timer into my bearded haddock pasty got me
squirting clunge gunge faster than a greased weasel shit. My calamari cockring
was trembling like a shitting dog. It was bliss having his bugger king slid
inside me again; stuffing my one slice toaster with a lightbulb just didn't get
my tampon tunnel splurging like it used to. If I don't stimulate the genitals
through phalangetic motion to get my tuna tunnel tears oozing from my mound of
love pudding, his throbbing quim dagger is going to leave my open-faced ham
sandwich resembling a gutted trout. He munched on my lunchmeat, even though I'd
had the painters in for the best part of a week. Some girls are happy just to
play the clitar when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a barbie
doll in my ground zero grotto and a 15" spiked vibrator up my Oxo orifice.
The feeling of his cock snot haemorrhaging down my throat got my beige slime
flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Hours of slamming like
this would leave any girl's meaty hangers looking like a manatee in yoga pants,
and I was no different! I can't wait to suck the steamin' semen from his
washington monument. By now, my sperm socket was trickling like a rabid dog.
The pounding of my turd-herder was so vigorous, he soon found his salty protein
grapes joining his bugger king deep in my poop chute. After having my Quimcy,
M.E. slammed, he then proceeded to pound my chocolate starfish. With my piss
flaps now much like a darts team's goalkeeper, he thought it was time to start
ramming my cocoa channel. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a
footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? The seemingly never-ending streams of creamy
load emanating from his sperminator soon had me coated like a plasterer's
radio.

The
seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from his womb ferret
soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I can't wait to lap the penis
pudding from his giggle stick. It was bliss having his one-eyed monster rammed
inside me again; stuffing my slime hole with a 10 inch purple battery-operated
monster just didn't get my front bum spattering like it used to. By now, my
quim was weeping like a jizz waterfall. The fucking of my other vagina was so
vigorous, he soon found his jingle-jangle jewellery joining his tenderloin
truncheon deep in my brown mile. 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 furry cup and a 15" spiked vibrator up my other vagina. Within no
time, I could feel the shitty gentleman's relish leaching from my vintage golf
bag and all over my vertical smile. I awoke the next morning with my tampon
tunnel still slobbering. I thought it was over but his one-eyed milkman had
other ideas. The unrelenting orgasms from his stilton sword slamming my chlamydia
canal made me come so hard, I began sweating like Mike Tyson at a spelling bee.
My hatchet wound was trembling 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 long-dong silver plunged deeper into my shit winker. Hours of plowing like
this would leave any girl's beef curtains looking like badly battered road
kill, and I was no different! With my open-faced ham sandwich now much like a
bulldog in a windtunnel, he thought it was time to start sliding my
turd-herder. Is now the time to tell him I really need to curl a stink pickle,
I wondered? He extruded a giant footlong fudge bullet on my top bollocks just
so he could chow down on it up like a pig at a trough. With his ramrod raiding
deep into my spunk dungeon, the sensation of his throbbing quim dagger smashing
my cervix made me quiver like jelly. There was ectoplasm weeping from his
greasy kebab skewer and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for
more. My throat was so full of cream reaper and love mayonnaise, the love
mayonnaise was leaking down my chin and onto my cans. The mixture of toilet
twinkie and cock snot in my mud flap created the delicious rectal stew that he
was so fond of. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the
sight of his pink tractor beam made my beige slime seep like there was a midget
inside me with a super soaker. After having my salmon slit slammed, he then
proceeded to slam my black hole. Inserting a 9-iron into my fuck trench got me
spritzing flange custard faster than snot off a whip. He munched on my clap
flaps, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. The feeling
of his cock snot flowing down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker
than a greased weasel shit. If I don't fish for pearls to get my vertical
moisture seeping from my mound of love pudding, his womb ferret is going to
leave my purple cabbage resembling a stamped bat. When he removed his love
lollipop from my turd-herder, 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 long-dong silver.

After
having my ruby cave hammered, he then proceeded to slam my fudge factory. The
plowing makes me spit my tuna tunnel tears all over his womb raider. My throat
was so full of cream reaper and creamy load, the magician's wax was frothing
down my chin and onto my love bubbles. The slamming of my tradesman's entrance
was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his cervix cigar deep
in my brown eye. By now, my cod canyon was seeping like a slavering dog. With
my piss flaps now much like a horse's collar, he thought it was time to start
shoving my tradesman's entrance. Is now the time to tell him I really need to
launch a toilet twinkie, I wondered? I awoke the next morning with my carp
cavity still seeping. I thought it was over but his turgid terror truncheon had
other ideas. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's beef curtains
looking like a stuntman's knee, and I was no different! The unrelenting orgasms
from his Nelson's Column slamming my cock holster made me come so hard, I began
sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. My gaping clam
cavern was trembling like a rat on acid. He curled a giant footlong fudge
bullet on my love bubbles just so he could suck it up like a pig at a trough.
With his pink tractor beam plowing deep into my ruby cave, the sensation of his
slut slayer smashing my cervix made me quake like jelly. I can't wait to suck
the magician's wax from his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus. Now, I've had
more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his ample cock made my
beige slime foam like a hungry pig at a trough. There was gentleman's relish
slobbering from his bald-headed yogurt slinger and I was wetter than a
spastic's chin. We were ready for more. He munched on my spam castanets, even
though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. The seemingly
never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his muffbuster 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
lightbulb in my cod canyon and an egg timer up my brown mile. It was bliss
having his Nelson's Column probed inside me again; stuffing my ruby cave with a
gerbil just didn't get my pink velvet sausage wallet gushing like it used to.
Within no time, I could feel the shitty magician's wax dribbling from my fudge
factory and all over my beef curtains. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator
into my gashtray got me spraying tuna tunnel tears faster than a greased weasel
shit. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries
as his mutton dagger shoved deeper into my poop chute. The mixture of Mr. Hanky
and Da Vinci load in my tradesman's entrance created the delicious sphincter
sauce that he was so fond of. The feeling of his creamy load seeping down my
throat got my sex wee flowing quicker than snot off a whip. If I don't buff the
muff to get my sex wee frothing from my birth cannon, his balony pony is going
to leave my vertical smile resembling a hippo's yawn.