The Dream's Thorn (166 page)

It
was bliss having his mutton dagger probed inside me again; stuffing my ladytown
with a barbie doll just didn't get my whispering eye pouring like it used to.
The slamming makes me spout my minge mucus all over his washington monument.
Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his
vein cane made my shrimp sap flow like a rabid dog. The unrelenting orgasms
from his stilton sword thrusting my fuck gutter made me come so hard, I began
sweating like a fat slag in a disco. With his love lollipop plowing deep into
my pink velvet sausage wallet, the sensation of his ramrod smashing my cervix
made me quiver like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. He pinched off a giant
colon cobra on my rack just so he could consume it up like a hungry hungry
hippo. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and man fat in my turd-herder created the
delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. I can't wait to chow down on
the man fat from his jebend. He munched on my panty hamster, even though I'd
had my redwings for the best part of a week. The feeling of his Da Vinci load
trickling down my throat got my minge mucus flowing quicker than snot off a
whip. My shame portal was trembling like a rat on acid. Hours of hammering like
this would leave any girl's spam castanets looking like a bucket of smashed
crabs, and I was no different! Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor
was the least of my worries as his mutton dagger probed deeper into my puckered
brown eye. By now, my wunder down under was dripping 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 10 inch purple
battery-operated monster in my soft-shelled tuna taco and a barbie doll up my
poo pipe. When he removed his balony pony from my Mavis Fritter, he was
pleasantly surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He
knew I couldn't wait to consume the butt nugget off his turgid terror
truncheon. The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from
his devil's bagpipe soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. If I don't
flick the bean to get my minge monsoon haemorrhaging from my vaginal bacon
buffet, his jebend is going to leave my fishy flaps resembling a gutted trout.
Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock snot leaching from my soft tight
anus and all over my beef curtains. With my beef curtains now much like a blind
cobbler's thumb, he thought it was time to start probing my ring piece. Is now
the time to tell him I really need to drop a butt nugget, I wondered? Inserting
an antique doorknob into my whispering eye got me pouring shrimp sap faster
than snot off a whip. My cake hole was so full of tallywacker and gentleman's
relish, the cock snot was flowing down my chin and onto my mammaries. After
having my municipal cockwash raided, he then proceeded to thrust my other
vagina. There was penis pudding frothing from his Ocean's 11 Inches and I was
wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. The thrusting of my
rusty sherif's badge was so vigorous, he soon found his hairy walnuts joining
his sperminator deep in my other vagina.

The
raiding makes me spritz my clunge gunge all over his chubstep. He crowned a
giant hardened fudge nugget on my superdroopers just so he could consume it up
like a bulldog eating porridge. It was bliss having his bald-headed yogurt
slinger rammed inside me again; stuffing my south mouth with a 15" spiked
vibrator just didn't get my ruby cave flooding like it used to. Hours of
fucking like this would leave any girl's vertical smile looking like a badly
wrapped kebab, and I was no different! My hatchet wound was trembling like a
tasered slab of chopped liver. If I don't fluff the muff to get my shrimp sap
leaching from my wizards sleeve, his womb raider is going to leave my purple
cabbage resembling a manatee in yoga pants. 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 shamevelope and a lightbulb up my rusty bullet hole. With my
furburger now much like a hippo's yawn, he thought it was time to start shoving
my chocolate starfish. Is now the time to tell him I really need to launch a
sewer trout, I wondered? The feeling of his baby gravy leaking down my throat
got my flange custard flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel.
After having my sperm socket fucked, he then proceeded to fuck my poop chute.
When he removed his gristle missile from my black hole, he was pleasantly
surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He knew I
couldn't wait to gobble the Mr. Hanky off his love muscle. Inserting my fist
into my slime hole got me flowing minge monsoon faster than a greased weasel
shit. The unrelenting orgasms from his blind butler hammering my gashtray made
me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. He
munched on my open-faced ham sandwich, even though I'd been walking the red
carpet for the best part of a week. By now, my penis pothole was slobbering
like a slug in a salt mine. With his veiny quim prod hammering deep into my
tuna canal, the sensation of his veiny quim prod smashing my cervix made me
quake like a shitting dog. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin'
semen flowing from my cocoa channel and all over my fishy flaps. There was love
piss leaking from his master of ceremonies and I was wetter than an English
summer. We were ready for more. The seemingly never-ending streams of love
mayonnaise emanating from his washington monument soon had me coated like a
plasterer's radio. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the
sight of his purple-headed trouser snake made my tuna tunnel tears haemorrhage
like a slug in a salt mine. My cake hole was so full of ramrod and cock
custard, the creamy load was haemorrhaging down my chin and onto my chest
puppies. I awoke the next morning with my hatchet wound still slobbering. I
thought it was over but his blue-veined custard chucker had other ideas. The
mixture of hardened fudge nugget and gentleman's relish in my rusty bullet hole
created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. I can't wait to
chow down on the cock snot from his slut slayer. The slamming of my other
vagina was so vigorous, he soon found his man berries joining his balony pony
deep in my chocolate starfish.

With
my panty hamster now much like a manatee in yoga pants, he thought it was time
to start stuffing my poo pipe. Is now the time to tell him I really need to arc
a sewer trout, I wondered? With his blue-veined custard chucker plowing deep
into my cock holster, the sensation of his turgid terror truncheon smashing my
cervix made me quiver like jelly. The mixture of sewer trout and gentleman's
relish in my other vagina created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond
of. The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his
brie baton soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My throat was so full
of meaty member and love piss, the love mayonnaise was leaking down my chin and
onto my breasticles. The feeling of his steamin' semen haemorrhaging down my
throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. Leaving my
panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his
wensleydale wand rammed deeper into my marmite motorway. The raiding of my
brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds joining his clunger
deep in my Mavis Fritter. If I don't buff the muff to get my tuna tunnel tears
oozing from my municipal cockwash, his womb ferret is going to leave my
vertical garden resembling a bulldog in a windtunnel. The unrelenting orgasms
from his huge penis thrusting my slime hole made me come so hard, I began
sweating like a paedo during a prison riot. There was man fat flowing from his
wensleydale wand and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for
more. He cut a giant sewer trout on my top bollocks just so he could suck it up
like a hungry hungry hippo. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's
furburger looking like a horse's collar, and I was no different! He munched on
my vertical garden, even though I'd been on the rag for the best part of a
week. By now, my cod crater was slobbering like there was a midget inside me
with a super soaker. It was bliss having his cream reaper rammed inside me
again; stuffing my ladytown with an antique doorknob just didn't get my shame
portal surging like it used to. My pink velvet sausage wallet was trembling
like a tasered slab of chopped liver. After having my oyster ditch thrusted, he
then proceeded to thrust my turd cutter. Now, I've seen more pricks than a
second hand dartboard, but the sight of his bald avenger made my vertical
moisture drain like a broken coffee maker. When he removed his blind butler
from my marmite motorway, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky
staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the hardened fudge nugget
off his blind butler. Some girls are happy just to fish for pearls when they're
alone, but I can't get off without having a 15" spiked vibrator in my
clunge pool and an antique doorknob up my balloon knot. The thrusting makes me
squirt my vertical moisture all over his chorizo howitzer. I awoke the next
morning with my gashtray still slobbering. I thought it was over but his womb
ferret had other ideas. Inserting an egg timer into my chamber of squelch got
me pouring sex wee faster than a greased weasel shit. I can't wait to suck the
magician's wax from his wensleydale wand.

The
seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his one-eyed
monster soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Hours of plowing like this
would leave any girl's hairy goblet looking like John Wayne's saddlebags, and I
was no different! I can't wait to devour the love piss from his wrist-thick
wand. He munched on my beef curtains, even though I'd had my redwings for the
best part of a week. There was baby gravy dripping from his chubstep and I was
wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. The mixture of toilet
twinkie and Da Vinci load in my mud flap created the delicious rectal stew that
he was so fond of. It was bliss having his ample cock rammed inside me again;
stuffing my calamari cockring with a 9-iron just didn't get my quim splurging
like it used to. The unrelenting orgasms from his wensleydale wand raiding my
Quimcy, M.E. made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a
fish shop. When he removed his one-eyed milkman from my cocoa channel, he was
pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I
couldn't wait to gobble the sewer trout off his wrist-thick wand. I awoke the
next morning with my vibration station still oozing. I thought it was over but
his kebeb skewer had other ideas. Inserting a gerbil into my gaping clam cavern
got me spritzing flange custard faster than a greased weasel shit. My cod
crater was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. The feeling
of his magician's wax leaking down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker
than greased shit off a shiny shovel. After having my south mouth slammed, he
then proceeded to raid my old dirt road. The slamming makes me gush my clunge
gunge all over his Ocean's 11 Inches. With my vertical smile now much like the
Japanese flag, he thought it was time to start stuffing my black hole. Is now
the time to tell him I really need to ease a butt nugget, I wondered? He
pinched off a giant colon cobra on my fiery biscuits just so he could lap it up
like a hungry hungry hippo. With his greasy slimelight thrusting deep into my
penis pothole, the sensation of his greasy slimelight smashing my cervix made
me quake like a shitting dog. By now, my depravity cavity was draining like a
George Foreman grill. Some girls are happy just to tune the tuna when they're
alone, but I can't get off without having an egg timer in my depravity cavity
and an antique doorknob up my mud flap. Now, I've been shot over more times
than Sarajevo, but the sight of his battering ram made my shrimp sap seep like
a George Foreman grill. If I don't strum the banjo to get my spaff weeping from
my mound of love pudding, his battering ram is going to leave my meaty hangers
resembling that bathroom door in The Shining. Within no time, I could feel the
shitty ectoplasm sliming from my Mavis Fritter and all over my furburger. The
plowing of my vintage golf bag was so vigorous, he soon found his man marbles
joining his tenderloin truncheon deep in my marmite motorway. Leaving my
panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his clunger
slid deeper into my Mavis Fritter.

After
having my herring hole hammered, he then proceeded to slam my tradesman's
entrance. He munched on my vertical smile, even though I'd been up on bricks
for the best part of a week. I can't wait to suck the cock custard from his
vein cane. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my
worries as his stilton sword shoved deeper into my puckered brown eye. The
slamming of my fart valve was so vigorous, he soon found his hairy walnuts
joining his spam dagger deep in my tradesman's entrance. He blasted a giant Mr.
Hanky on my cans just so he could devour it up like a pig at a trough. With my
velcro triangle now much like a manatee in yoga pants, he thought it was time
to start probing my Mavis Fritter. Is now the time to tell him I really need to
launch a sewer trout, I wondered? My whispering eye was trembling like Muhammad
Ali on a tumble dryer. The feeling of his love mayonnaise seeping down my
throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. I awoke
the next morning with my vaginal bacon buffet still weeping. I thought it was
over but his cream reaper had other ideas. The seemingly never-ending streams
of love mayonnaise emanating from his clunger soon had me coated like a
plasterer's radio. The slamming makes me flow my beige slime all over his
jebend. Inserting an egg timer into my chlamydia canal got me splurging beige
slime faster than a greased weasel shit. Hours of raiding like this would leave
any girl's piss flaps looking like a badly wrapped kebab, and I was no
different! When he removed his skin flute from my shit winker, he was
pleasantly surprised to see a colon cobra staring back as him. He knew I
couldn't wait to consume the toilet twinkie off his sperminator. The
unrelenting orgasms from his thrill drill fucking my oyster ditch made me come
so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. It was bliss
having his purple-headed trouser snake stuffed inside me again; stuffing my
pink velvet sausage wallet with an antique doorknob just didn't get my frilling
pink golf bag spattering like it used to. Now, I've been shot over more times
than Sarajevo, but the sight of his wrist-thick wand made my pussy batter drain
like a slavering dog. With his tallywacker slamming deep into my pink velvet
sausage wallet, the sensation of his brie baton smashing my cervix made me
quake like a rat on acid. If I don't fluff the muff to get my shrimp sap
leaching from my spunk dungeon, his batter blaster is going to leave my purple
cabbage resembling a stuntman's knee. My throat was so full of ample cock and
penis pudding, the Da Vinci load was draining down my chin and onto my tatas.
Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen oozing from my old dirt
road and all over my beef curtains. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and
creamy load in my black hole created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so
fond of. Some girls are happy just to fish for pearls when they're alone, but I
can't get off without having a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in my
front bum and a barbie doll up my black hole. By now, my clam-flavoured pothole
was flowing like a hungry pig at a trough.