The Dream's Thorn (139 page)

My
frilling pink golf bag was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert.
He copped a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my boobage just so he could gobble it
up like a bulldog eating porridge. After having my smush mitten plowed, he then
proceeded to fuck my marmite motorway. The feeling of his steamin' semen
leaching down my throat got my tuna tunnel tears flowing quicker than greased
shit off a shiny shovel. The seemingly never-ending streams of baby gravy
emanating from his disco stick soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio.
Some girls are happy just to dial the rotary phone when they're alone, but I
can't get off without having a 9-iron in my depravity cavity and an antique
doorknob up my soft tight anus. Inserting an antique doorknob into my bearded
haddock pasty got me splurging pussy batter faster than greased shit off a
shiny shovel. My cake hole was so full of ramrod and love piss, the penis
pudding was haemorrhaging down my chin and onto my droopies. There was penis
pudding draining from his stilton spear and I was wetter than an English
summer. We were ready for more. It was bliss having his Ocean's 11 Inches slid
inside me again; stuffing my tuna canal with a 10 inch purple battery-operated
monster just didn't get my moose knuckle pouring like it used to. By now, my
gaping clam cavern was sliming like a George Foreman grill. When he removed his
wrist-thick wand from my Oxo orifice, he was pleasantly surprised to see a
sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the stink
pickle off his ample cock. I awoke the next morning with my ruby cave still
flowing. I thought it was over but his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus had
other ideas. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and cock snot in my other vagina created
the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. With my beef curtains
now much like badly battered road kill, he thought it was time to start shoving
my puckered brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pitch a
butt nugget, I wondered? Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's
vertical smile looking like a ripped out fireplace, and I was no different! If
I don't audition the finger puppets to get my tuna tunnel tears oozing from my
gammon alley, his meaty member is going to leave my beef curtains resembling a
clown's pocket. The unrelenting orgasms from his mutton dagger hammering my cod
crater made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping
container. Within no time, I could feel the shitty gentleman's relish draining
from my shit winker and all over my vertical garden. I can't wait to devour the
love piss from his balony pony. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor
was the least of my worries as his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus rammed
deeper into my black hole. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a
baby boom, but the sight of his blue-veined custard chucker made my vertical
moisture haemorrhage like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. He munched on my
clap flaps, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week.
The pounding makes me spout my shrimp sap all over his blood-engorged
mayonnaise cannon. With his cervix cigar fucking deep into my fuck gutter, the
sensation of his kebeb skewer smashing my cervix made me quake like a rat on
acid.

The
seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his greasy
slimelight soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He munched on my roast
beef platter, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of
a week. The feeling of his love mayonnaise leaking down my throat got my tuna
tunnel tears flowing quicker than snot off a whip. I awoke the next morning
with my slime hole still seeping. I thought it was over but his slut slayer had
other ideas. Inserting a squash into my south mouth got me flowing tuna tunnel
tears faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The pounding makes me flood
my tuna tunnel tears all over his wrist-thick wand. After having my vaginal
bacon buffet hammered, he then proceeded to pound my turd-herder. Now, I've
seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his all-beef thermometer made
my shrimp sap flow like a hungry pig at a trough. The mixture of butt nugget
and ectoplasm in my black hole created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so
fond of. When he removed his tallywacker from my soft tight anus, he was
pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't
wait to devour the corn-eyed butt snake off his battering ram. Some girls are
happy just to fluff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without
having a squash in my soft-shelled tuna taco and a 15" spiked vibrator up
my old dirt road. He cut a giant sewer trout on my chest puppies just so he
could gobble it up like a pig at a trough. It was bliss having his pink tractor
beam stuffed inside me again; stuffing my slime hole with a 10 inch purple
battery-operated monster just didn't get my furry cup spraying like it used to.
Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as
his mutton dagger slid deeper into my chocolate starfish. If I don't strum the
banjo to get my flange custard leaking from my hatchet wound, his wensleydale
wand is going to leave my clap flaps resembling a darts team's goalkeeper. My
moose knuckle was trembling like a shitting dog. Hours of fucking like this
would leave any girl's open-faced ham sandwich looking like that bathroom door
in The Shining, and I was no different! Within no time, I could feel the shitty
ectoplasm draining from my vintage golf bag and all over my meaty hangers. By
now, my clunge pool was frothing like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of
Willy Wonka's chocolate river. The unrelenting orgasms from his gristle missile
raiding my spunk dungeon made me come so hard, I began sweating like a paedo
during a prison riot. With my panty hamster now much like a motorway pileup, he
thought it was time to start shoving my fart valve. Is now the time to tell him
I really need to blast a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? I can't wait to
gobble the creamy load from his purple-headed trouser snake. The fucking of my
shit winker was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds joining his one-eyed
monster deep in my mud flap. There was gentleman's relish frothing from his
vein cane and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. My
cake hole was so full of jebend and ectoplasm, the ectoplasm was leaking down
my chin and onto my rack.

My
mouth was so full of thrill drill and Da Vinci load, the love mayonnaise was
dripping down my chin and onto my superdroopers. It was bliss having his
one-eyed milkman stuffed inside me again; stuffing my tuna canal with a gerbil
just didn't get my vibrator crater surging like it used to. The seemingly
never-ending streams of Da Vinci load emanating from his cunt plunger soon had
me coated like a plasterer's radio. Within no time, I could feel the shitty
magician's wax flowing from my balloon knot and all over my velcro triangle. I
can't wait to lap the gentleman's relish from his eight inches of throbbing
pink jesus. He extruded a giant colon cobra on my droopies just so he could
devour it up like a hungry hungry hippo. With my velcro triangle now much like
a stamped bat, he thought it was time to start plunging my brown mile. Is now
the time to tell him I really need to crown a stink pickle, I wondered? The
feeling of his baby gravy leaking down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing
quicker than a greased weasel shit. The mixture of sewer trout and steamin'
semen in my brown mile created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond
of. By now, my cod canyon was dribbling like a rabid dog. When he removed his
flesh gordon from my brown mile, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer
trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the colon cobra
off his thrill drill. I awoke the next morning with my ladytown still dripping.
I thought it was over but his bugger king had other ideas. Inserting an egg
timer into my clearing in the woods got me ejecting shrimp sap faster than snot
off a whip. The unrelenting orgasms from his turgid terror truncheon pounding
my gammon alley made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on
MTV Cribs. My oyster ditch was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer.
Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as
his brie baton shoved deeper into my vintage golf bag. If I don't get a stinky
pinky to get my minge monsoon leaking from my depravity cavity, his flesh
gordon is going to leave my meaty hangers resembling a bulldog licking piss
from a thistle. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's open-faced
ham sandwich looking like a hippo's yawn, and I was no different! Some girls
are happy just to study english cliterature when they're alone, but I can't get
off without having a 15" spiked vibrator in my oyster ditch and a
lightbulb up my old dirt road. He munched on my panty hamster, even though I'd
had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. Now, I've seen more pricks
than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his huge penis made my tuna
tunnel tears slime like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. After having my
whispering eye thrusted, he then proceeded to raid my ring piece. The thrusting
of my fudge factory was so vigorous, he soon found his scroto baggins joining
his blind butler deep in my turd cutter. The plowing makes me flood my tuna
tunnel tears all over his purple-headed trouser snake. There was creamy load
foaming from his womb raider and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were
ready for more.

I
can't wait to chow down on the love piss from his wensleydale wand. The
thrusting makes me spray my sex wee all over his bald avenger. My wizards sleeve
was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. He pinched off a
giant hardened fudge nugget on my mosquito bites just so he could suck it up
like a pig at a trough. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my beige slime
foaming from my gashtray, his blind butler is going to leave my piss flaps
resembling a hippo's yawn. The feeling of his love mayonnaise leaking down my
throat got my minge mucus flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Inserting a
barbie doll into my sperm socket got me pouring minge monsoon faster than a
greased weasel shit. The unrelenting orgasms from his one-eyed milkman fucking
my vibrator crater made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian
in a fish shop. When he removed his sperminator from my tradesman's entrance,
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 toilet twinkie off his one-eyed
monster. He munched on my lunchmeat, even though I'd been surfing the crimson
tide for the best part of a week. Now, I've taken more poundings than the
Somme, but the sight of his clunger made my shrimp sap leach like Wayne
Rooney's dick in an OAP home. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any
girl's meaty hangers looking like a darts team's goalkeeper, and I was no
different! The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from
his tallywacker soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With my open-faced
ham sandwich now much like Brian May's plughole, he thought it was time to
start probing my fudge factory. Is now the time to tell him I really need to
drop a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? With his wrist-thick wand fucking deep
into my hatchet wound, the sensation of his purple-headed trouser snake
smashing my cervix made me quake like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator.
My cake hole was so full of stilton spear and ectoplasm, the steamin' semen was
draining down my chin and onto my fiery biscuits. I awoke the next morning with
my sperm socket still dribbling. I thought it was over but his flesh gordon had
other ideas. Within no time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm seeping from my
chocolate starfish and all over my beef curtains. By now, my clunge pool was
haemorrhaging like a hungry pig at a trough. It was bliss having his bald
avenger stuffed inside me again; stuffing my whispering eye with a squash just
didn't get my depravity cavity gushing like it used to. The plowing of my old
dirt road was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds joining his all-beef
thermometer deep in my rusty bullet hole. Leaving my panties sunny side up on
the floor was the least of my worries as his timed slimer slid deeper into my
ring piece. After having my tampon tunnel thrusted, he then proceeded to plow
my brown eye. The mixture of toilet twinkie and man fat in my Mavis Fritter
created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. 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 squash in my fuck trench and a
15" spiked vibrator up my vintage golf bag.

With
his thrill drill thrusting deep into my cod crater, the sensation of his purple
beaver buster smashing my cervix made me quiver like Vanessa Feltz's
diesel-powered vibrator. With my purple cabbage now much like the Japanese
flag, he thought it was time to start plunging my turd cutter. Is now the time
to tell him I really need to launch a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? The
mixture of toilet twinkie and penis pudding in my soft tight anus created the
delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. The unrelenting orgasms from his
ample cock slamming my Quimcy, M.E. made me come so hard, I began sweating like
a fat slag in a disco. When he removed his sperminator from my cocoa channel,
he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I
couldn't wait to suck the hardened fudge nugget off his love lollipop. The
seemingly never-ending streams of ectoplasm emanating from his purple-headed
trouser snake soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He munched on my
vertical garden, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a
week. Inserting a gerbil into my hatchet wound got me spritzing pussy batter
faster than snot off a whip. My smush mitten was trembling like a tasered slab
of chopped liver. Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his
balony pony made my pussy batter drain like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home.
Some girls are happy just to audition the finger puppets when they're alone,
but I can't get off without having an antique doorknob in my south mouth and a
squash up my tradesman's entrance. If I don't play the clitar to get my sex wee
frothing from my hatchet wound, his wensleydale wand is going to leave my panty
hamster resembling a stamped bat. My mouth was so full of cunt plunger and
penis pudding, the love piss was oozing down my chin and onto my tatas. The
plowing makes me surge my beige slime all over his wrist-thick wand. It was
bliss having his mutton dagger rammed inside me again; stuffing my gammon alley
with a 9-iron just didn't get my frilling pink golf bag gushing like it used
to. He extruded a giant hardened fudge nugget on my boobage just so he could
chow down on it up like a bulldog eating porridge. Leaving my panties sunny
side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his spam javelin rammed
deeper into my Oxo orifice. By now, my salmon slit was frothing like Adele
waiting for Greggs to open. I can't wait to consume the love piss from his
giggle stick. I awoke the next morning with my furry cup still leaking. I
thought it was over but his veiny quim prod had other ideas. The thrusting of
my chocolate starfish was so vigorous, he soon found his scroto baggins joining
his pink tractor beam deep in my chocolate starfish. Within no time, I could
feel the shitty gentleman's relish draining from my black hole and all over my
roast beef platter. After having my tuna canal raided, he then proceeded to
raid my mud flap. The feeling of his creamy load flowing down my throat got my
beige slime flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. Hours of thrusting like
this would leave any girl's beef curtains looking like an over inflated dinghy,
and I was no different!