The Dream's Thorn (160 page)

With
my lunchmeat now much like a motorway pileup, he thought it was time to start
sliding my other vagina. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a
corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? By now, my frilling pink golf bag was
haemorrhaging like a hungry pig at a trough. Some girls are happy just to flick
the bean when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 9-iron in my
ladytown and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my other vagina.
Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as
his mutton dagger shoved deeper into my fudge factory. The hammering makes me
squirt my beige slime all over his spam dagger. After having my enchilada of
love hammered, he then proceeded to hammer my fart valve. My vibration station
was trembling like a rat on acid. Inserting a 9-iron into my one slice toaster
got me spouting beige slime faster than snot off a whip. Now, I've seen more
helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his spam javelin made my vertical
moisture leach like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's
chocolate river. There was love mayonnaise sliming from his mutton dagger and I
was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. Within no time, I
could feel the shitty love mayonnaise foaming from my marmite motorway and all
over my hairy goblet. I awoke the next morning with my moose knuckle still
oozing. I thought it was over but his mutton dagger had other ideas. It was
bliss having his cunt stretcher probed inside me again; stuffing my front bum
with a gerbil just didn't get my quim splurging like it used to. The seemingly
never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his love lollipop soon had me
coated like a plasterer's radio. Hours of hammering like this would leave any
girl's flappy meal looking like a blind cobbler's thumb, and I was no
different! When he removed his jade rod from my other vagina, he was pleasantly
surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait
to consume the sewer trout off his muffbuster. He crowned a giant hardened
fudge nugget on my chest puppies just so he could consume it up like a bulldog
eating porridge. My mouth was so full of sperminator and cock snot, the creamy
load was dribbling down my chin and onto my cans. The slamming of my rusty
sherif's badge was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his
love muscle deep in my turd-herder. The mixture of butt nugget and Da Vinci
load in my balloon knot created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond
of. The unrelenting orgasms from his long-dong silver hammering my stench
trench made me come so hard, I began sweating like a white mouse in a tampon
factory. The feeling of his cock custard leaching down my throat got my flange
custard flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. With his stilton
sword plowing deep into my fuck trench, the sensation of his one-eyed monster
smashing my cervix made me quiver like a tasered slab of chopped liver. If I
don't finger blast to get my clunge gunge seeping from my clam-flavoured
pothole, his muffbuster is going to leave my open-faced ham sandwich resembling
a hippo's yawn. He munched on my open-faced ham sandwich, even though I'd had
my redwings for the best part of a week.

He
munched on my velcro triangle, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide
for the best part of a week. The unrelenting orgasms from his long-dong silver
pounding my shamevelope made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy
near an unlocked shipping container. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the
floor was the least of my worries as his muffbuster slid deeper into my vintage
golf bag. The hammering of my black hole was so vigorous, he soon found his
hairy walnuts joining his spam javelin deep in my Oxo orifice. Within no time,
I could feel the shitty magician's wax flowing from my black hole and all over
my piss flaps. By now, my penis pothole was frothing like a George Foreman
grill. The mixture of colon cobra and steamin' semen in my other vagina created
the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. Some girls are happy just to
get a stinky pinky when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a
number of chillies in my quim and a squash up my puckered brown eye. If I don't
flick the bean to get my sex wee oozing from my fuck gutter, his devil's bagpipe
is going to leave my roast beef platter resembling a clown's pocket. With his
bugger king raiding deep into my gammon alley, the sensation of his blind
butler smashing my cervix made me quake like jelly. He copped a giant sewer
trout on my tatas just so he could consume it up like a hungry hungry hippo. It
was bliss having his chorizo howitzer shoved inside me again; stuffing my
enchilada of love with a barbie doll just didn't get my birth cannon squirting
like it used to. I can't wait to chow down on the man fat from his love muscle.
With my vertical smile now much like a ripped out fireplace, he thought it was
time to start shoving my brown mile. Is now the time to tell him I really need
to cop a colon cobra, I wondered? The seemingly never-ending streams of cock
snot emanating from his meaty member soon had me coated like a plasterer's
radio. I awoke the next morning with my tuna canal still dripping. I thought it
was over but his mutton dagger had other ideas. The feeling of his Da Vinci
load oozing down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than a greased weasel
shit. The slamming makes me squirt my clunge gunge all over his all-beef
thermometer. My cake hole was so full of tenderloin truncheon and ectoplasm,
the love piss was dribbling down my chin and onto my fiery biscuits. When he
removed his love muscle from my brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see a
hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour
the stink pickle off his purple beaver buster. My frilling pink golf bag was
trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. Inserting an antique
doorknob into my clam-flavoured pothole got me surging fallopian fish stock
faster than snot off a whip. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province,
but the sight of his love muscle made my clunge gunge trickle like a broken
coffee maker. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's furburger
looking like a hippo's yawn, and I was no different! After having my quim
pounded, he then proceeded to hammer my mud flap.

The
fucking of my ring piece was so vigorous, he soon found his trouser conkors
joining his brie baton deep in my marmite motorway. With my purple cabbage now
much like the south end of a badger going north, he thought it was time to
start probing my poo pipe. Is now the time to tell him I really need to arc a
corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? By now, my cum dumpster was leaking like
someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. The unrelenting orgasms
from his cream reaper slamming my gaping clam cavern made me come so hard, I
began sweating like a white mouse in a tampon factory. I can't wait to suck the
man fat from his all-beef thermometer. Some girls are happy just to get a
stinky pinky when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an antique
doorknob in my penis pothole and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up
my shit winker. Inserting a gerbil into my enchilada of love got me gushing sex
wee faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Leaving my panties sunny side
up on the floor was the least of my worries as his meaty member rammed deeper
into my ring piece. I awoke the next morning with my one slice toaster still
dribbling. I thought it was over but his all-beef thermometer had other ideas.
Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat haemorrhaging from my brown
mile and all over my spam castanets. When he removed his one-eyed monster from
my Oxo orifice, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake
staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the toilet twinkie off
his tallywacker. The feeling of his cock custard weeping down my throat got my
shrimp sap flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Now, I've seen
more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his Ocean's 11 Inches made
my tuna tunnel tears leach like a broken coffee maker. If I don't stimulate the
genitals through phalangetic motion to get my beige slime trickling from my one
slice toaster, his cunt stretcher is going to leave my beef curtains resembling
a shot cat. The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating
from his thrill drill soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He munched
on my velcro triangle, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a
week. My cake hole was so full of clunger and cock custard, the love mayonnaise
was oozing down my chin and onto my droopies. It was bliss having his spam
dagger stuffed inside me again; stuffing my penis pothole with a 15"
spiked vibrator just didn't get my one slice toaster spouting like it used to.
My one slice toaster was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery.
The pounding makes me gush my shrimp sap all over his spam dagger. After having
my cum dumpster slammed, he then proceeded to raid my brown eye. With his
greasy kebab skewer hammering deep into my shamevelope, the sensation of his
batter blaster smashing my cervix made me quiver like Vanessa Feltz's
diesel-powered vibrator. He curled a giant toilet twinkie on my superdroopers
just so he could suck it up like a hungry hungry hippo. The mixture of sewer
trout and cock snot in my old dirt road created the delicious rectoplasm that
he was so fond of. There was ectoplasm haemorrhaging from his Nelson's Column
and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more.

If
I don't study english cliterature to get my fallopian fish stock dribbling from
my vaginal bacon buffet, his washington monument is going to leave my purple
cabbage resembling a motorway pileup. I can't wait to chow down on the
magician's wax from his one-eyed monster. The thrusting makes me flow my shrimp
sap all over his slut slayer. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my
spit, but the sight of his cumtree made my flange custard ooze like someone had
poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. The feeling of his magician's wax
frothing down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than a greased weasel
shit. With his bald-headed yogurt slinger thrusting deep into my carp cavity,
the sensation of his balony pony smashing my cervix made me quiver like a
shitting dog. Within no time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm slobbering from
my other vagina and all over my spam castanets. By now, my pink velvet sausage
wallet was frothing like a slug in a salt mine. I awoke the next morning with
my whispering eye still leaking. I thought it was over but his skin flute had
other ideas. Inserting a barbie doll into my gashtray got me spritzing minge
mucus faster than a greased weasel shit. When he removed his greasy slimelight
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 lap the hardened fudge nugget
off his skeleton king. The mixture of sewer trout and penis pudding in my poop
chute created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. My smush mitten
was trembling like a shitting dog. Some girls are happy just to finger blast
when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a squash in my wizards
sleeve and a squash up my marmite motorway. It was bliss having his wrist-thick
wand plunged inside me again; stuffing my tampon tunnel with a barbie doll just
didn't get my ladytown flooding like it used to. My cake hole was so full of
sperminator and Da Vinci load, the love mayonnaise was weeping down my chin and
onto my love bubbles. The raiding of my shit winker was so vigorous, he soon
found his jingle-jangle jewellery joining his disco stick deep in my puckered
brown eye. The seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from
his ample cock soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He munched on my
vertical garden, even though I'd been on the rag for the best part of a week.
He eased out a giant Mr. Hanky on my fiery biscuits just so he could chow down
on it up like a hungry hungry hippo. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the
floor was the least of my worries as his spam dagger stuffed deeper into my
turd-herder. With my beef curtains now much like a stamped bat, he thought it
was time to start plunging my poo pipe. Is now the time to tell him I really
need to roll a toilet twinkie, I wondered? After having my ladytown thrusted,
he then proceeded to slam my poo pipe. The unrelenting orgasms from his
tenderloin truncheon slamming my smush mitten made me come so hard, I began
sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. Hours of slamming
like this would leave any girl's velcro triangle looking like a hippo's yawn,
and I was no different!

With
my flappy meal now much like a ripped out fireplace, he thought it was time to
start sliding my shit winker. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop
a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? With his sperminator pounding deep into my spunk
dungeon, the sensation of his thrill drill smashing my cervix made me quake
like a rat on acid. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen
flowing from my fudge factory and all over my meaty hangers. Now, I've taken
more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his bald-headed yogurt slinger
made my minge mucus slobber like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. The fucking
makes me surge my minge monsoon all over his bugger king. It was bliss having
his blind butler rammed inside me again; stuffing my tuna canal with an antique
doorknob just didn't get my wizards sleeve spraying like it used to. Leaving my
panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his greasy
kebab skewer plunged deeper into my balloon knot. My gaping clam cavern was
trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. Some girls are happy just to
fluff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a gerbil
in my frilling pink golf bag and a squash up my chocolate starfish. My cake
hole was so full of jade rod and cock custard, the baby gravy was trickling
down my chin and onto my mammaries. When he removed his meaty member from my
rusty sherif's badge, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring
back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the footlong fudge bullet
off his turgid terror truncheon. There was Da Vinci load oozing from his meaty
member and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more.
Inserting a number of chillies into my Quimcy, M.E. got me splurging fallopian
fish stock faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The mixture of footlong
fudge bullet and ectoplasm in my poo pipe created the delicious porthole
pudding that he was so fond of. I awoke the next morning with my pink velvet
sausage wallet still leaching. I thought it was over but his piss pipe had
other ideas. The seemingly never-ending streams of gentleman's relish emanating
from his stilton spear soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I can't
wait to consume the baby gravy from his womb ferret. Hours of raiding like this
would leave any girl's beef curtains looking like the Japanese flag, and I was
no different! He pitched a giant colon cobra on my mosquito bites just so he
could consume it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The raiding of my brown eye
was so vigorous, he soon found his chin pounders joining his blind butler deep
in my cocoa channel. The feeling of his penis pudding leaking down my throat
got my spaff flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. He munched on my hairy
goblet, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a
week. After having my fuck trench thrusted, he then proceeded to pound my
chocolate starfish. The unrelenting orgasms from his batter blaster plowing my
vibrator crater made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in
a fish shop. By now, my front bum was draining like a hungry pig at a trough.