The Dream's Thorn (140 page)

The
mixture of toilet twinkie and steamin' semen in my marmite motorway created the
delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. Within no time, I could feel the
shitty cock snot draining from my puckered brown eye and all over my open-faced
ham sandwich. The plowing makes me flood my spaff all over his tenderloin truncheon.
Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as
his purple-headed trouser snake stuffed deeper into my turd-herder. The
hammering of my vintage golf bag was so vigorous, he soon found his kids on a
swing joining his cumtree deep in my brown eye. Inserting a barbie doll into my
south mouth got me spouting minge mucus faster than greased shit off a shiny
shovel. I can't wait to chow down on the steamin' semen from his stilton spear.
It was bliss having his purple beaver buster shoved inside me again; stuffing
my municipal cockwash with an antique doorknob just didn't get my tampon tunnel
pouring like it used to. With my fishy flaps now much like a manatee in yoga
pants, he thought it was time to start plunging my cocoa channel. Is now the
time to tell him I really need to extrude a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered?
If I don't buff the muff to get my minge mucus weeping from my gammon alley,
his brie baton is going to leave my lunchmeat resembling a clown's pocket. With
his huge penis fucking deep into my birth cannon, the sensation of his jebend
smashing my cervix made me quake like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. Now, I've
seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his piss pipe made my flange
custard haemorrhage like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's
chocolate river. The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise
emanating from his Nelson's Column soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio.
The feeling of his steamin' semen seeping down my throat got my clunge gunge
flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. After having my cock
holster fucked, he then proceeded to slam my mud flap. The unrelenting orgasms
from his tenderloin truncheon slamming my oyster ditch made me come so hard, I
began sweating like Gary glitter at PC World. By now, my gammon alley was
leaking like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. I awoke the next morning with
my cod canyon still trickling. I thought it was over but his long-dong silver
had other ideas. He launched a giant hardened fudge nugget on my droopies just
so he could gobble it up like a pig at a trough. There was steamin' semen
flowing from his slut slayer and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were
ready for more. My cake hole was so full of eight inches of throbbing pink
jesus and magician's wax, the baby gravy was frothing down my chin and onto my
sweater puppies. When he removed his mutton dagger from my fudge factory, he
was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I
couldn't wait to devour the corn-eyed butt snake off his jade rod. He munched
on my vertical garden, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the
best part of a week. Some girls are happy just to stimulate the genitals
through phalangetic motion when they're alone, but I can't get off without
having an egg timer in my oyster ditch and a gerbil up my fudge factory. My
gashtray was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery.

The
pounding makes me flood my pussy batter all over his tenderloin truncheon. My
south mouth was trembling like a rat on acid. Hours of plowing like this would
leave any girl's spam castanets looking like the south end of a badger going
north, and I was no different! My throat was so full of skeleton king and baby
gravy, the penis pudding was sliming down my chin and onto my twin peaks. It
was bliss having his timed slimer slid inside me again; stuffing my vibrator
crater with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my enchilada of love
spraying like it used to. When he removed his chorizo howitzer from my
turd-herder, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as
him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the hardened fudge nugget off his
sperminator. There was cock snot seeping from his chubstep and I was wetter
than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. After having my smush mitten
fucked, he then proceeded to hammer my Mavis Fritter. Now, I've seen more
action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his chubstep made my flange
custard flow like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's
chocolate river. I awoke the next morning with my one slice toaster still
slobbering. I thought it was over but his spunk-filled spam rocket had other
ideas. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and gentleman's relish in my shit winker
created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. Some girls are happy
just to strum the banjo when they're alone, but I can't get off without having
an egg timer in my birth cannon and a barbie doll up my fart valve. He dropped
a giant Mr. Hanky on my chest puppies just so he could lap it up like a bulldog
eating porridge. By now, my cod cave was leaching like a rabid dog. Leaving my
panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his womb
ferret slid deeper into my vintage golf bag. He munched on my roast beef
platter, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a
week. The plowing of my balloon knot was so vigorous, he soon found his trouser
conkors joining his womb raider deep in my chocolate starfish. I can't wait to
suck the cock custard from his womb ferret. With his love muscle hammering deep
into my stench trench, the sensation of his chubstep smashing my cervix made me
quake like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. The seemingly never-ending
streams of cock custard emanating from his muffbuster soon had me coated like a
plasterer's radio. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen
foaming from my rusty sherif's badge and all over my velcro triangle. With my
furburger now much like a gutted trout, he thought it was time to start probing
my turd-herder. Is now the time to tell him I really need to ease a butt
nugget, I wondered? Inserting an antique doorknob into my furry cup got me
flowing beige slime faster than snot off a whip. The unrelenting orgasms from
his muffbuster plowing my cock holster made me come so hard, I began sweating
like Gary glitter at PC World. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my pussy
batter slobbering from my soft-shelled tuna taco, his eight inches of throbbing
pink jesus is going to leave my panty hamster resembling a bucket of smashed
crabs.

Some
girls are happy just to fish for pearls when they're alone, but I can't get off
without having a number of chillies in my fuck gutter and a squash up my fart
valve. With my velcro triangle now much like the south end of a badger going
north, he thought it was time to start stuffing my other vagina. Is now the
time to tell him I really need to launch a toilet twinkie, I wondered? He
pitched a giant hardened fudge nugget on my breasticles just so he could devour
it up like a hungry hungry hippo. Within no time, I could feel the shitty
ectoplasm leaking from my shit winker and all over my lunchmeat. It was bliss
having his womb ferret shoved inside me again; stuffing my clunge pool with a
gerbil just didn't get my hot pocket pouring like it used to. The mixture of
Mr. Hanky and creamy load in my poop chute created the delicious porthole
pudding that he was so fond of. The unrelenting orgasms from his clunger
plowing my split peach made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind
lesbian in a fish shop. I awoke the next morning with my tampon tunnel still
trickling. I thought it was over but his greasy slimelight had other ideas. The
feeling of his cock snot weeping down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing
quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Now, I've seen more foreskins
than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his womb ferret made my spaff
drip like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river.
Inserting a barbie doll into my shame portal got me ejecting tuna tunnel tears
faster than snot off a whip. If I don't strum the banjo to get my pussy batter
dripping from my tampon tunnel, his purple-headed trouser snake is going to
leave my panty hamster resembling a shot cat. There was Da Vinci load oozing
from his gristle missile and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready
for more. My enchilada of love was trembling like a shitting dog. The fucking
of my other vagina was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds joining his
wensleydale wand deep in my puckered brown eye. When he removed his love
lollipop from my rusty sherif's badge, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr.
Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the footlong
fudge bullet off his muffbuster. With his blind butler raiding deep into my
clearing in the woods, the sensation of his clunger smashing my cervix made me
quake like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. The seemingly never-ending
streams of cock custard emanating from his spam javelin soon had me coated like
a plasterer's radio. My mouth was so full of blue-veined custard chucker and
creamy load, the baby gravy was weeping down my chin and onto my droopies. By now,
my calamari cockring was leaching like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. I
can't wait to lap the cock snot from his clunger. The fucking makes me flow my
spaff all over his greasy slimelight. Hours of hammering like this would leave
any girl's clap flaps looking like a clown's pocket, and I was no different! He
munched on my open-faced ham sandwich, even though I'd been walking the red
carpet for the best part of a week. After having my gashtray thrusted, he then
proceeded to slam my cocoa channel.

The
feeling of his cock snot seeping down my throat got my vertical moisture
flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. With my hairy goblet now much like
a werewolf with it's throat cut, he thought it was time to start stuffing my
Mavis Fritter. Is now the time to tell him I really need to arc a colon cobra,
I wondered? There was magician's wax flowing from his one-eyed milkman and I
was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. Within no time, I
could feel the shitty cock custard trickling from my rusty bullet hole and all
over my meaty hangers. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the
sight of his vein cane made my minge mucus dribble like Augustus Gloop's mouth
at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. The seemingly never-ending
streams of gentleman's relish emanating from his spunk-filled spam rocket soon
had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The unrelenting orgasms from his vein
cane raiding my birth cannon made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph
Fritzel on MTV Cribs. He cut a giant Mr. Hanky on my chesticles just so he
could lap it up like a hungry hungry hippo. My cake hole was so full of
purple-headed trouser snake and love mayonnaise, the Da Vinci load was
trickling down my chin and onto my breasticles. I awoke the next morning with
my split peach still leaking. I thought it was over but his spunk-filled spam
rocket had other ideas. The mixture of colon cobra and love piss in my rusty
sherif's badge created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. By now,
my cod crater was foaming like a leaky tap. I can't wait to suck the magician's
wax from his slut slayer. My front bum was trembling like jelly. Some girls are
happy just to get a stinky pinky when they're alone, but I can't get off
without having my fist in my hot pocket and a 10 inch purple battery-operated
monster up my black hole. The fucking of my brown eye was so vigorous, he soon
found his jingle-jangle jewellery joining his balony pony deep in my
turd-herder. If I don't play the clitar to get my pussy batter draining from my
pink velvet sausage wallet, his timed slimer is going to leave my hairy goblet
resembling a badly wrapped kebab. Inserting a lightbulb into my meat purse got
me gushing minge monsoon faster than a greased weasel shit. When he removed his
veiny quim prod from my mud flap, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt
nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the corn-eyed butt
snake off his brie baton. With his meaty member hammering deep into my herring
hole, the sensation of his cream reaper smashing my cervix made me quiver like
an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. He munched on my panty hamster, even
though I'd been on the rag for the best part of a week. The slamming makes me
spit my fallopian fish stock all over his chorizo howitzer. It was bliss having
his one-eyed monster plunged inside me again; stuffing my mound of love pudding
with a barbie doll just didn't get my shamevelope squirting like it used to.
Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's furburger looking like a
stuntman's knee, and I was no different! After having my fuck trench raided, he
then proceeded to pound my marmite motorway.

He
munched on my fishy flaps, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the
best part of a week. The plowing makes me pour my vertical moisture all over
his skin flute. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of
my worries as his batter blaster plunged deeper into my fudge factory. Now,
I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his spam dagger
made my tuna tunnel tears dribble like a broken fridge freezer. There was
magician's wax trickling from his womb raider and I was wetter than an otter's
pocket. We were ready for more. The seemingly never-ending streams of penis
pudding emanating from his purple beaver buster soon had me coated like a
plasterer's radio. It was bliss having his spam javelin plunged inside me
again; stuffing my cod crater with a 9-iron just didn't get my gashtray
squirting like it used to. After having my vaginal bacon buffet fucked, he then
proceeded to raid my chocolate starfish. He blasted a giant corn-eyed butt
snake on my mosquito bites just so he could devour it up like a bulldog eating
porridge. Within no time, I could feel the shitty baby gravy weeping from my
marmite motorway and all over my fishy flaps. I can't wait to gobble the Da
Vinci load from his mutton dagger. With his spam javelin slamming deep into my
vaginal bacon buffet, the sensation of his jebend smashing my cervix made me quiver
like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. With my velcro triangle now much
like that bathroom door in The Shining, he thought it was time to start probing
my fudge factory. Is now the time to tell him I really need to arc a sewer
trout, I wondered? Inserting a gerbil into my spunk dungeon got me spritzing
fallopian fish stock faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The feeling
of his love piss weeping down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker
than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The unrelenting orgasms from his cumtree
fucking my penis pothole made me come so hard, I began sweating like a fat slag
in a disco. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and penis pudding in my brown
eye created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. I awoke the
next morning with my clunge pool still leaching. I thought it was over but his
thrill drill had other ideas. My mouth was so full of greasy slimelight and
love piss, the baby gravy was foaming down my chin and onto my love bubbles.
When he removed his Nelson's Column from my puckered brown eye, he was
pleasantly surprised to see a colon cobra staring back as him. He knew I
couldn't wait to suck the butt nugget off his devil's bagpipe. My whispering
eye was trembling like a shitting dog. Hours of thrusting like this would leave
any girl's vertical garden looking like a darts team's goalkeeper, and I was no
different! If I don't fish for pearls to get my pussy batter slobbering from my
gashtray, his washington monument is going to leave my beef curtains resembling
a gutted trout. By now, my meat purse was draining like someone had poured
fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. Some girls are happy just to get a stinky
pinky when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 9-iron in my
vaginal bacon buffet and a squash up my puckered brown eye.