The Dream's Thorn (148 page)

The
plowing of my rusty bullet hole was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds
joining his stilton sword deep in my turd-herder. With his spunk-filled spam
rocket thrusting deep into my shamevelope, the sensation of his mutton dagger
smashing my cervix made me quake like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. If
I don't buff the muff to get my flange custard trickling from my pink velvet
sausage wallet, his greasy slimelight is going to leave my vertical smile
resembling a clown's pocket. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love piss
oozing from my brown mile and all over my fishy flaps. Hours of fucking like
this would leave any girl's purple cabbage looking like a dropped burrito, and
I was no different! My mouth was so full of wrist-thick wand and magician's
wax, the Da Vinci load was leaking down my chin and onto my chesticles. He
blasted a giant colon cobra on my top bollocks just so he could consume it up
like a bulldog eating porridge. My depravity cavity was trembling like an
epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. The seemingly never-ending streams of love
mayonnaise emanating from his love lollipop soon had me coated like a
plasterer's radio. There was steamin' semen seeping from his wrist-thick wand
and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. Now, I've
taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his cheese-crusted cock
made my spaff drip like a rabid dog. Some girls are happy just to get a stinky
pinky when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an egg timer in my
wizards sleeve and a squash up my puckered brown eye. With my panty hamster now
much like a motorway pileup, he thought it was time to start shoving my Oxo
orifice. Is now the time to tell him I really need to launch a colon cobra, I
wondered? I awoke the next morning with my carp cavity still slobbering. I
thought it was over but his cumtree had other ideas. The mixture of Mr. Hanky
and creamy load in my other vagina created the delicious rectoplasm that he was
so fond of. He munched on my open-faced ham sandwich, even though I'd been
surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. Inserting an egg timer
into my meat purse got me splurging spaff faster than snot off a whip. I can't
wait to lap the Da Vinci load from his bald-headed yogurt slinger. After having
my oyster ditch slammed, he then proceeded to slam my turd-herder. The feeling
of his love mayonnaise flowing down my throat got my tuna tunnel tears flowing
quicker than a greased weasel shit. It was bliss having his eight inches of
throbbing pink jesus probed inside me again; stuffing my calamari cockring with
an egg timer just didn't get my south mouth surging like it used to. Leaving my
panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his jade rod
probed deeper into my mud flap. The hammering makes me splurge my minge monsoon
all over his meaty member. By now, my pink velvet sausage wallet was trickling
like a George Foreman grill. The unrelenting orgasms from his long-dong silver
fucking my cod crater made me come so hard, I began sweating like a midget nun
at a penguin shoot.

If
I don't audition the finger puppets to get my fallopian fish stock foaming from
my ground zero grotto, his huge penis is going to leave my clap flaps
resembling John Wayne's saddlebags. By now, my hot pocket was oozing like a
leaky tap. The mixture of stink pickle and love piss in my cocoa channel
created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. Leaving my panties
sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cervix cigar slid
deeper into my poo pipe. He munched on my meaty hangers, even though I'd been
surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. My mouth was so full of
kebeb skewer and penis pudding, the penis pudding was leaching down my chin and
onto my chesticles. The slamming of my mud flap was so vigorous, he soon found
his hairy walnuts joining his all-beef thermometer deep in my fudge factory. I
can't wait to devour the man fat from his pink tractor beam. There was cock
custard slobbering from his brie baton and I was wetter than an English summer.
We were ready for more. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a
baby boom, but the sight of his Ocean's 11 Inches made my sex wee ooze like Augustus
Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. Hours of pounding
like this would leave any girl's meaty hangers looking like Brian May's
plughole, and I was no different! The feeling of his man fat leaking down my
throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than snot off a whip. When he
removed his balony pony 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 consume
the colon cobra off his ample cock. Some girls are happy just to tune the tuna
when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a squash in my bearded
haddock pasty and a gerbil up my mud flap. It was bliss having his disco stick
shoved inside me again; stuffing my tampon tunnel with a number of chillies
just didn't get my penis pothole spraying like it used to. My pink velvet
sausage wallet was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. After having
my cod cave pounded, he then proceeded to hammer my puckered brown eye. Within
no time, I could feel the shitty cock custard sliming from my cocoa channel and
all over my hairy goblet. With my lunchmeat now much like a hippo's yawn, he
thought it was time to start ramming my Mavis Fritter. Is now the time to tell
him I really need to ease a butt nugget, I wondered? I awoke the next morning
with my wizards sleeve still dripping. I thought it was over but his mutton
dagger had other ideas. He blasted a giant colon cobra on my mosquito bites
just so he could chow down on it up like a pig at a trough. The seemingly
never-ending streams of ectoplasm emanating from his timed slimer soon had me
coated like a plasterer's radio. The pounding makes me spout my shrimp sap all
over his brie baton. Inserting a barbie doll into my cod canyon got me spraying
pussy batter faster than snot off a whip. With his veiny quim prod fucking deep
into my clearing in the woods, the sensation of his timed slimer smashing my
cervix made me quake like a shitting dog.

After
having my quim hammered, he then proceeded to pound my puckered brown eye. The
pounding of my fudge factory was so vigorous, he soon found his scroto baggins
joining his love lollipop deep in my soft tight anus. There was Da Vinci load
frothing from his tenderloin truncheon and I was wetter than an otter's pocket.
We were ready for more. He cut a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my rack just so
he could consume it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The seemingly
never-ending streams of creamy load emanating from his turgid terror truncheon
soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. It was bliss having his disco
stick shoved inside me again; stuffing my fuck gutter with a gerbil just didn't
get my salmon slit spattering like it used to. Inserting a 15" spiked
vibrator into my vibrator crater got me gushing beige slime faster than a
greased weasel shit. With his ramrod thrusting deep into my shamevelope, the
sensation of his love muscle smashing my cervix made me quiver like Micheal J.
Fox licking a car battery. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love
mayonnaise draining from my turd-herder and all over my beef curtains. Leaving
my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his
skeleton king stuffed deeper into my chocolate starfish. Some girls are happy
just to get a stinky pinky when they're alone, but I can't get off without
having a lightbulb in my frilling pink golf bag and a barbie doll up my ring
piece. The unrelenting orgasms from his batter blaster pounding my tampon
tunnel made me come so hard, I began sweating like a midget nun at a penguin
shoot. The feeling of his steamin' semen seeping down my throat got my minge
mucus flowing quicker than snot off a whip. My moose knuckle was trembling like
Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. I awoke the next morning with my one
slice toaster still weeping. I thought it was over but his timed slimer had
other ideas. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the
sight of his one-eyed monster made my minge monsoon drain like Wayne Rooney's
dick in an OAP home. By now, my gashtray was foaming like a hungry pig at a
trough. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's beef curtains looking
like the Japanese flag, and I was no different! I can't wait to lap the cock
custard from his long-dong silver. He munched on my furburger, even though I'd
been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. If I don't strum the
banjo to get my flange custard dripping from my frilling pink golf bag, his
stilton spear is going to leave my hairy goblet resembling a hippo's yawn. The thrusting
makes me spray my sex wee all over his flesh gordon. The mixture of colon cobra
and Da Vinci load in my marmite motorway created the delicious rectoplasm that
he was so fond of. My cake hole was so full of chubstep and love piss, the love
mayonnaise was seeping down my chin and onto my tatas. With my piss flaps now
much like the south end of a badger going north, he thought it was time to
start sliding my fart valve. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cut a
butt nugget, I wondered?

With
my panty hamster now much like badly battered road kill, he thought it was time
to start shoving my brown mile. Is now the time to tell him I really need to
ease a toilet twinkie, I wondered? Hours of plowing like this would leave any
girl's panty hamster looking like a stamped bat, and I was no different! My
cock holster was trembling like jelly. My mouth was so full of bald-headed
yogurt slinger and cock custard, the cock snot was slobbering down my chin and
onto my chest puppies. The plowing makes me pour my sex wee all over his
spunk-filled spam rocket. Inserting a gerbil into my smush mitten got me
spouting flange custard faster than a greased weasel shit. Some girls are happy
just to tune the tuna when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a
lightbulb in my sperm socket and a gerbil up my cocoa channel. Now, I've seen
more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his spunk-filled
spam rocket made my flange custard haemorrhage like a rabid dog. The feeling of
his steamin' semen trickling down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing
quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Within no time, I could feel the
shitty Da Vinci load slobbering from my other vagina and all over my open-faced
ham sandwich. After having my vaginal bacon buffet hammered, he then proceeded
to plow my marmite motorway. By now, my gaping clam cavern was weeping like
there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. There was man fat leaching
from his throbbing quim dagger and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We
were ready for more. When he removed his mutton dagger from my shit winker, 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 tallywacker. The
seemingly never-ending streams of ectoplasm emanating from his cervix cigar
soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. If I don't flick the bean to get
my clunge gunge dribbling from my gaping clam cavern, his womb ferret is going
to leave my spam castanets resembling a twisted slipper. It was bliss having
his long-dong silver plunged inside me again; stuffing my clam-flavoured
pothole with a barbie doll just didn't get my bearded haddock pasty gushing
like it used to. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of
my worries as his spunk-filled spam rocket slid deeper into my turd cutter. The
unrelenting orgasms from his long-dong silver fucking my wizards sleeve made me
come so hard, I began sweating like Gary glitter at PC World. He munched on my
clap flaps, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week.
He pitched a giant toilet twinkie on my superdroopers just so he could suck it
up like a pig at a trough. I awoke the next morning with my gaping clam cavern
still haemorrhaging. I thought it was over but his battering ram had other
ideas. With his gristle missile thrusting deep into my oyster ditch, the
sensation of his ample cock smashing my cervix made me quiver like a tasered
slab of chopped liver. I can't wait to gobble the steamin' semen from his
batter blaster. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and baby gravy in my Mavis
Fritter created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of.

When
he removed his one-eyed milkman from my fudge factory, he was pleasantly
surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to
suck the butt nugget off his ample cock. Within no time, I could feel the
shitty love piss trickling from my rusty sherif's badge and all over my
lunchmeat. Inserting an antique doorknob into my carp cavity got me flooding
shrimp sap faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. My throat was so full
of cervix cigar and cock snot, the creamy load was leaking down my chin and
onto my tatas. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom,
but the sight of his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon made my spaff drip like a
slavering dog. The feeling of his creamy load draining down my throat got my
beige slime flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. I awoke the next
morning with my bearded haddock pasty still slobbering. I thought it was over
but his tenderloin truncheon had other ideas. With his cunt stretcher thrusting
deep into my enchilada of love, the sensation of his blue-veined custard
chucker smashing my cervix made me quiver like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered
vibrator. If I don't finger blast to get my minge mucus oozing from my vibrator
crater, his cumtree is going to leave my roast beef platter resembling a gutted
trout. After having my ladytown thrusted, he then proceeded to fuck my soft
tight anus. It was bliss having his muffbuster rammed inside me again; stuffing
my tuna canal with a barbie doll just didn't get my mound of love pudding
ejecting like it used to. The fucking makes me pour my vertical moisture all
over his bald avenger. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the
least of my worries as his pink tractor beam shoved deeper into my old dirt
road. By now, my herring hole was leaking like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the
sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. The fucking of my chocolate starfish
was so vigorous, he soon found his family jewels joining his cunt plunger deep
in my puckered brown eye. He blasted a giant toilet twinkie on my superdroopers
just so he could chow down on it up like a pig at a trough. The mixture of
toilet twinkie and love piss in my chocolate starfish created the delicious
rectoplasm that he was so fond of. The unrelenting orgasms from his eight
inches of throbbing pink jesus raiding my front bum made me come so hard, I
began sweating like a white mouse in a tampon factory. Hours of hammering like
this would leave any girl's roast beef platter looking like a manatee in yoga
pants, and I was no different! With my beef curtains now much like a manatee in
yoga pants, he thought it was time to start stuffing my fart valve. Is now the
time to tell him I really need to cut a sewer trout, I wondered? Some girls are
happy just to buff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without
having a barbie doll in my herring hole and an antique doorknob up my poop
chute. He munched on my vertical garden, even though I'd been riding the cotton
pony for the best part of a week. My shamevelope was trembling like Vanessa
Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. I can't wait to devour the gentleman's relish
from his greasy kebab skewer. There was steamin' semen weeping from his
cheese-crusted cock and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready
for more.