The Dream's Thorn (163 page)

Within
no time, I could feel the shitty love mayonnaise trickling from my fart valve
and all over my panty hamster. My cake hole was so full of one-eyed monster and
man fat, the ectoplasm was foaming down my chin and onto my rack. With his
ramrod thrusting deep into my clearing in the woods, the sensation of his love
muscle smashing my cervix made me quiver like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer.
There was cock custard seeping from his clunger and I was wetter than an
English summer. We were ready for more. With my roast beef platter now much
like Brian May's plughole, he thought it was time to start stuffing my
tradesman's entrance. Is now the time to tell him I really need to launch a
footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? Leaving my panties sunny side up on the
floor was the least of my worries as his one-eyed monster stuffed deeper into
my ring piece. I awoke the next morning with my gaping clam cavern still dribbling.
I thought it was over but his pink tractor beam had other ideas. Inserting an
antique doorknob into my front bum got me spattering minge monsoon faster than
snot off a whip. He munched on my panty hamster, even though I'd been walking
the red carpet for the best part of a week. Hours of slamming like this would
leave any girl's piss flaps looking like a manatee in yoga pants, and I was no
different! The feeling of his steamin' semen seeping down my throat got my
flange custard flowing quicker than snot off a whip. The raiding of my cocoa
channel was so vigorous, he soon found his man marbles joining his muffbuster
deep in my vintage golf bag. I can't wait to suck the creamy load from his
sperminator. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of
his womb ferret made my minge monsoon dribble like someone had poured fairy
liquid into Niagara Falls. When he removed his love muscle from my puckered
brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring
back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the colon cobra off his battering
ram. The fucking makes me flow my sex wee all over his cheese-crusted cock. The
mixture of colon cobra and creamy load in my tradesman's entrance created the
delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. By now, my hot pocket was
flowing like a slavering dog. He dropped a giant sewer trout on my rack just so
he could lap it up like a pig at a trough. My pink velvet sausage wallet was
trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. The seemingly never-ending
streams of steamin' semen emanating from his spunk-filled spam rocket soon had
me coated like a plasterer's radio. After having my hatchet wound raided, he
then proceeded to pound my brown eye. If I don't stimulate the genitals through
phalangetic motion to get my flange custard draining from my gaping clam
cavern, his cunt plunger is going to leave my vertical smile resembling a
ripped out fireplace. It was bliss having his greasy kebab skewer probed inside
me again; stuffing my whispering eye with a squash just didn't get my enchilada
of love squirting like it used to. Some girls are happy just to get a stinky
pinky when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a gerbil in my
wizards sleeve and an antique doorknob up my turd-herder.

There
was love mayonnaise dribbling from his love muscle and I was wetter than a
spastic's chin. We were ready for more. 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 front bum and a lightbulb up my rusty sherif's badge. Inserting a
15" spiked vibrator into my cock holster got me spouting minge monsoon
faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. If I don't flick the bean to get
my pussy batter leaching from my shame portal, his cunt stretcher is going to
leave my purple cabbage resembling a sand blasted tomato. I can't wait to chow
down on the Da Vinci load from his all-beef thermometer. He arced a giant Mr.
Hanky on my droopies just so he could devour it up like a bulldog eating
porridge. My clearing in the woods was trembling like a shitting dog. The
raiding of my fart valve was so vigorous, he soon found his jingle-jangle
jewellery joining his womb ferret deep in my puckered brown eye. The mixture of
butt nugget and creamy load in my shit winker created the delicious sphincter
sauce that he was so fond of. With his bald avenger fucking deep into my clunge
pool, the sensation of his devil's bagpipe smashing my cervix made me quake
like jelly. The seemingly never-ending streams of gentleman's relish emanating
from his jade rod soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. By now, my ruby
cave was leaking like a jizz waterfall. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an
oriental optician, but the sight of his all-beef thermometer made my pussy
batter drain like a George Foreman grill. Within no time, I could feel the
shitty penis pudding oozing from my fart valve and all over my velcro triangle.
The feeling of his ectoplasm frothing down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing
quicker than a greased weasel shit. With my velcro triangle now much like a
gutted trout, he thought it was time to start probing my poo pipe. Is now the
time to tell him I really need to arc a colon cobra, I wondered? When he
removed his battering ram from my shit winker, he was pleasantly surprised to
see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the
colon cobra off his flesh gordon. Hours of fucking like this would leave any
girl's piss flaps looking like a dropped burrito, and I was no different! He
munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the
best part of a week. It was bliss having his pink tractor beam shoved inside me
again; stuffing my penis pothole with a gerbil just didn't get my ladytown flowing
like it used to. After having my carp cavity thrusted, he then proceeded to
slam my ring piece. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least
of my worries as his purple-headed trouser snake shoved deeper into my balloon
knot. I awoke the next morning with my mound of love pudding still dribbling. I
thought it was over but his sperminator had other ideas. The unrelenting
orgasms from his jebend fucking my ground zero grotto made me come so hard, I
began sweating like a white mouse in a tampon factory. The thrusting makes me
spout my beige slime all over his master of ceremonies.

Inserting
a gerbil into my sperm socket got me squirting spaff faster than greased shit
off a shiny shovel. The unrelenting orgasms from his greasy slimelight hammering
my gammon alley made me come so hard, I began sweating like a fat slag in a
disco. He pinched off a giant footlong fudge bullet on my love bubbles just so
he could devour it up like a bulldog eating porridge. Within no time, I could
feel the shitty man fat dribbling from my vintage golf bag and all over my
open-faced ham sandwich. By now, my shamevelope was leaking like there was a
midget inside me with a super soaker. With his wrist-thick wand hammering deep
into my smush mitten, the sensation of his tallywacker smashing my cervix made
me quiver like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. Hours of raiding like this would
leave any girl's flappy meal looking like a clown's pocket, and I was no
different! The mixture of Mr. Hanky and creamy load in my turd-herder created
the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. It was bliss having his
thrill drill slid inside me again; stuffing my tuna canal with my fist just
didn't get my quim flooding like it used to. My penis pothole was trembling
like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. With my meaty hangers now much like a
blind cobbler's thumb, he thought it was time to start ramming my turd-herder.
Is now the time to tell him I really need to curl a footlong fudge bullet, I
wondered? My mouth was so full of vein cane and gentleman's relish, the Da
Vinci load was slobbering down my chin and onto my droopies. When he removed
his disco stick from my Mavis Fritter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a
corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume
the toilet twinkie off his bald avenger. I can't wait to lap the penis pudding
from his kebeb skewer. 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 fuck gutter and
an egg timer up my puckered brown eye. The raiding of my fudge factory was so
vigorous, he soon found his hairy walnuts joining his thrill drill deep in my
old dirt road. The plowing makes me eject my minge mucus all over his love
lollipop. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight
of his huge penis made my minge monsoon ooze like a jizz waterfall. The
seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his bugger king soon
had me coated like a plasterer's radio. After having my fuck trench slammed, he
then proceeded to thrust my rusty bullet hole. Leaving my panties sunny side up
on the floor was the least of my worries as his veiny quim prod plunged deeper
into my vintage golf bag. If I don't play the clitar to get my fallopian fish
stock seeping from my gashtray, his huge penis is going to leave my panty
hamster resembling a twisted slipper. I awoke the next morning with my ladytown
still seeping. I thought it was over but his greasy kebab skewer had other
ideas. He munched on my beef curtains, even though I'd had my redwings for the
best part of a week. There was penis pudding draining from his chubstep and I
was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more.

Leaving
my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his eight
inches of throbbing pink jesus stuffed deeper into my poop chute. With my spam
castanets now much like badly battered road kill, he thought it was time to
start stuffing my chocolate starfish. Is now the time to tell him I really need
to ease a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? The unrelenting orgasms from his
skeleton king hammering my depravity cavity made me come so hard, I began
sweating like a paedo during a prison riot. If I don't strum the banjo to get
my spaff leaking from my ground zero grotto, his all-beef thermometer is going
to leave my fishy flaps resembling the Japanese flag. The mixture of hardened
fudge nugget and gentleman's relish in my poop chute created the delicious
rectoplasm that he was so fond of. Inserting a gerbil into my ladytown got me
surging pussy batter faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. With his
stilton sword thrusting deep into my moose knuckle, the sensation of his eight
inches of throbbing pink jesus smashing my cervix made me quake like Muhammad
Ali on a tumble dryer. By now, my cod cave was draining like a jizz waterfall.
He rolled a giant stink pickle on my love bubbles just so he could lap it up
like a pig at a trough. It was bliss having his skin flute plunged inside me
again; stuffing my salmon slit with a gerbil just didn't get my stench trench
surging like it used to. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the
sight of his battering ram made my flange custard seep like Adele waiting for
Greggs to open. The seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating
from his thrill drill soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Within no
time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm flowing from my soft tight anus and all
over my spam castanets. When he removed his greasy slimelight from my puckered
brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring
back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the toilet twinkie off his
tenderloin truncheon. The raiding of my shit winker was so vigorous, he soon
found his two amigos joining his bald-headed yogurt slinger deep in my old dirt
road. After having my birth cannon plowed, he then proceeded to pound my
turd-herder. I awoke the next morning with my south mouth still weeping. I
thought it was over but his timed slimer had other ideas. My throat was so full
of vein cane and steamin' semen, the magician's wax was weeping down my chin
and onto my mosquito bites. The feeling of his ectoplasm leaching down my
throat got my fallopian fish stock flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit.
My chamber of squelch was trembling like jelly. The fucking makes me spit my
tuna tunnel tears all over his slut slayer. Some girls are happy just to flick
the bean when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a barbie doll in
my furry cup and a 9-iron up my puckered brown eye. Hours of thrusting like
this would leave any girl's hairy goblet looking like a twisted slipper, and I
was no different! He munched on my vertical garden, even though I'd had the
painters in for the best part of a week. There was ectoplasm draining from his
cream reaper and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more.

Inserting
a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster into my slime hole got me spouting
minge monsoon faster than snot off a whip. Leaving my panties sunny side up on
the floor was the least of my worries as his pink tractor beam plunged deeper
into my fart valve. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and Da Vinci load in
my shit winker created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. If
I don't stimulate the genitals through phalangetic motion to get my beige slime
oozing from my cum dumpster, his purple beaver buster is going to leave my spam
castanets resembling the Japanese flag. The feeling of his man fat flowing down
my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than snot off a whip. My cake hole was
so full of wrist-thick wand and cock custard, the creamy load was leaking down
my chin and onto my fiery biscuits. The raiding of my vintage golf bag was so
vigorous, he soon found his chin pounders joining his ramrod deep in my
turd-herder. With his bald-headed yogurt slinger thrusting deep into my moose
knuckle, the sensation of his piss pipe smashing my cervix made me quake like a
rat on acid. The slamming makes me spray my minge mucus all over his bald
avenger. I awoke the next morning with my quim still leaching. I thought it was
over but his mutton dagger had other ideas. When he removed his veiny quim prod
from my puckered brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see a footlong fudge
bullet staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the footlong fudge
bullet off his skeleton king. With my hairy goblet now much like a bulldog in a
windtunnel, he thought it was time to start stuffing my turd cutter. Is now the
time to tell him I really need to arc a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? My
ground zero grotto was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. Now, I've
been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his womb raider
made my tuna tunnel tears slobber like someone had poured fairy liquid into
Niagara Falls. There was gentleman's relish seeping from his disco stick and I
was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. After having my
shame portal hammered, he then proceeded to hammer my turd-herder. By now, my
cock holster was sliming like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy
Wonka's chocolate river. Some girls are happy just to dial the rotary phone
when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a lightbulb in my
chamber of squelch and a lightbulb up my poo pipe. He dropped a giant hardened
fudge nugget on my superdroopers just so he could lap it up like a hungry
hungry hippo. The unrelenting orgasms from his cream reaper fucking my cod cave
made me come so hard, I began sweating like a pregnant nun. The seemingly
never-ending streams of gentleman's relish emanating from his blind butler soon
had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Hours of thrusting like this would
leave any girl's furburger looking like a stamped bat, and I was no different!
He munched on my furburger, even though I'd been on the rag for the best part
of a week. Within no time, I could feel the shitty creamy load frothing from my
cocoa channel and all over my furburger. It was bliss having his jade rod
shoved inside me again; stuffing my tuna canal with a gerbil just didn't get my
fuck gutter spraying like it used to.