The Dream's Thorn (17 page)

My
penis pothole was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. With my
vertical garden now much like a bucket of smashed crabs, he thought it was time
to start plunging my ring piece. Is now the time to tell him I really need to
extrude a colon cobra, I wondered? The seemingly never-ending streams of baby
gravy emanating from his spam javelin soon had me coated like a plasterer's
radio. I can't wait to gobble the love piss from his jebend. Leaving my panties
sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his disco stick
shoved deeper into my soft tight anus. By now, my wunder down under was
frothing like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate
river. Within no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding frothing from my
chocolate starfish and all over my roast beef platter. Inserting my fist into
my clunge pool got me spattering pussy batter faster than snot off a whip. Some
girls are happy just to strum the banjo when they're alone, but I can't get off
without having a 15" spiked vibrator in my soft-shelled tuna taco and a
squash up my puckered brown eye. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand
Province, but the sight of his cunt stretcher made my shrimp sap drip like a
slavering dog. He cut a giant toilet twinkie on my chest puppies just so he
could devour it up like a pig at a trough. It was bliss having his balony pony
plunged inside me again; stuffing my oyster ditch with a gerbil just didn't get
my moose knuckle splurging like it used to. If I don't play the clitar to get
my pussy batter frothing from my cod crater, his cunt stretcher is going to
leave my flappy meal resembling a hippo's yawn. The feeling of his love piss
dribbling down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than greased shit
off a shiny shovel. With his purple beaver buster pounding deep into my penis
pothole, the sensation of his throbbing quim dagger smashing my cervix made me
quake like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. I awoke the next morning with
my moose knuckle still flowing. I thought it was over but his womb raider had
other ideas. When he removed his love muscle from my Oxo orifice, he was
pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't
wait to lap the butt nugget off his spunk-filled spam rocket. The fucking makes
me pour my fallopian fish stock all over his long-dong silver. Hours of
pounding like this would leave any girl's open-faced ham sandwich looking like
a gutted trout, and I was no different! My throat was so full of skin flute and
penis pudding, the gentleman's relish was foaming down my chin and onto my
mosquito bites. The unrelenting orgasms from his stilton spear pounding my
bearded haddock pasty made me come so hard, I began sweating like a dyslexic on
Countdown. There was man fat foaming from his ramrod and I was wetter than an
otter's pocket. We were ready for more. The raiding of my puckered brown eye
was so vigorous, he soon found his clock weights joining his chorizo howitzer
deep in my other vagina. He munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd had the
painters in for the best part of a week. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget
and man fat in my chocolate starfish created the delicious sphincter sauce that
he was so fond of.

The
plowing of my shit winker was so vigorous, he soon found his clock weights
joining his turgid terror truncheon deep in my mud flap. I can't wait to suck
the creamy load from his stilton sword. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and
steamin' semen in my Oxo orifice created the delicious sphincter sauce that he
was so fond of. He munched on my vertical garden, even though I'd had the
painters in for the best part of a week. If I don't flick the bean to get my
clunge gunge dripping from my frilling pink golf bag, his chubstep is going to
leave my velcro triangle resembling Brian May's plughole. Leaving my panties
sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his Nelson's Column
stuffed deeper into my poop chute. The unrelenting orgasms from his clunger
fucking my one slice toaster made me come so hard, I began sweating like a
gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. When he removed his jade rod from my
other vagina, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as
him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the hardened fudge nugget off his
muffbuster. My throat was so full of cervix cigar and man fat, the baby gravy
was dripping down my chin and onto my droopies. He extruded a giant footlong
fudge bullet on my chest puppies just so he could suck it up like a pig at a
trough. My split peach was trembling like a shitting dog. The seemingly
never-ending streams of man fat emanating from his all-beef thermometer soon
had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator
into my mound of love pudding got me spritzing sex wee faster than snot off a
whip. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's spam castanets looking
like a gutted trout, and I was no different! After having my cod crater
pounded, he then proceeded to raid my ring piece. It was bliss having his spam
javelin stuffed inside me again; stuffing my bearded haddock pasty with a
barbie doll just didn't get my gammon alley squirting like it used to. The
feeling of his cock snot trickling down my throat got my pussy batter flowing
quicker than snot off a whip. The plowing makes me spout my spaff all over his
cream reaper. With my meaty hangers now much like the Japanese flag, he thought
it was time to start sliding my ring piece. Is now the time to tell him I
really need to launch a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? By now, my whispering eye was
slobbering like a broken coffee maker. I awoke the next morning with my fuck
gutter still dripping. I thought it was over but his greasy slimelight had
other ideas. Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat haemorrhaging from
my ring piece and all over my open-faced ham sandwich. There was steamin' semen
flowing from his spunk-filled spam rocket and I was wetter than an otter's
pocket. We were ready for more. Some girls are happy just to dial the rotary
phone when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a gerbil in my
ladytown and a squash up my other vagina. With his stilton spear hammering deep
into my ruby cave, the sensation of his chubstep smashing my cervix made me
quake like a shitting dog.

The
fucking of my balloon knot was so vigorous, he soon found his trouser conkors
joining his blue-veined custard chucker deep in my soft tight anus. With his
blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon slamming deep into my shame portal, the
sensation of his jade rod smashing my cervix made me quiver like a rat on acid.
There was love mayonnaise seeping from his skeleton king and I was wetter than
an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. I awoke the next morning with my
bearded haddock pasty still frothing. I thought it was over but his Nelson's
Column had other ideas. The slamming makes me surge my spaff all over his brie
baton. He arced a giant hardened fudge nugget on my cans just so he could
devour it up like a hungry hungry hippo. My throat was so full of spam javelin
and cock snot, the baby gravy was dribbling down my chin and onto my mosquito
bites. My tampon tunnel was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver.
Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's hairy goblet looking like
Brian May's plughole, and I was no different! The seemingly never-ending
streams of ectoplasm emanating from his bald-headed yogurt slinger soon had me
coated like a plasterer's radio. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor
was the least of my worries as his spam dagger shoved deeper into my turd
cutter. He munched on my velcro triangle, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting
for the best part of a week. Within no time, I could feel the shitty creamy
load oozing from my poo pipe and all over my panty hamster. If I don't
stimulate the genitals through phalangetic motion to get my fallopian fish
stock slobbering from my fuck trench, his spam dagger is going to leave my
flappy meal resembling a rabid baboon's arse. By now, my birth cannon was
sliming like a rabid dog. With my open-faced ham sandwich now much like a
bulldog licking piss from a thistle, he thought it was time to start sliding my
turd-herder. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a butt nugget,
I wondered? The unrelenting orgasms from his master of ceremonies hammering my
cum dumpster made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy with a
mortgage. When he removed his blue-veined custard chucker from my cocoa
channel, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him.
He knew I couldn't wait to lap the butt nugget off his ramrod. The feeling of
his penis pudding weeping down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than snot
off a whip. I can't wait to consume the penis pudding from his stilton spear.
After having my vibration station fucked, he then proceeded to hammer my Oxo
orifice. It was bliss having his ample cock stuffed inside me again; stuffing
my ground zero grotto with a barbie doll just didn't get my wizards sleeve
splurging like it used to. Inserting a number of chillies into my furry cup got
me spritzing tuna tunnel tears faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel.
Some girls are happy just to flick the bean when they're alone, but I can't get
off without having a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in my chamber of
squelch and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my soft tight anus.
The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and cock custard in my tradesman's
entrance created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of.

He
munched on my vertical garden, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide
for the best part of a week. By now, my calamari cockring was dripping like
Adele waiting for Greggs to open. The thrusting makes me flood my minge monsoon
all over his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon. After having my cum dumpster
plowed, he then proceeded to pound my turd-herder. When he removed his slut
slayer from my turd cutter, 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 master of ceremonies. Inserting a squash into my furry cup got me squirting
minge monsoon faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The pounding of my
tradesman's entrance was so vigorous, he soon found his salty protein grapes
joining his bald avenger deep in my brown eye. It was bliss having his piss
pipe rammed inside me again; stuffing my one slice toaster with a 10 inch
purple battery-operated monster just didn't get my stench trench splurging like
it used to. I can't wait to chow down on the Da Vinci load from his one-eyed
milkman. With my roast beef platter now much like a horse's collar, he thought
it was time to start probing my brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I really
need to cop a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? With his womb raider plowing
deep into my spunk dungeon, the sensation of his bugger king smashing my cervix
made me quiver like a rat on acid. He cut a giant footlong fudge bullet on my
twin peaks just so he could devour it up like a hungry hungry hippo. I awoke
the next morning with my ladytown still slobbering. I thought it was over but
his cheese-crusted cock had other ideas. Hours of plowing like this would leave
any girl's panty hamster looking like Terry Waite's allotment, and I was no
different! The seemingly never-ending streams of creamy load emanating from his
pink tractor beam soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Within no time,
I could feel the shitty love mayonnaise foaming from my shit winker and all
over my fishy flaps. If I don't stimulate the genitals through phalangetic
motion to get my minge monsoon sliming from my hot pocket, his meaty member is
going to leave my panty hamster resembling a rabid baboon's arse. Leaving my
panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his devil's
bagpipe plunged deeper into my balloon knot. The mixture of footlong fudge
bullet and love piss in my marmite motorway created the delicious rectal stew
that he was so fond of. The unrelenting orgasms from his spunk-filled spam rocket
hammering my tampon tunnel made me come so hard, I began sweating like a midget
nun at a penguin shoot. The feeling of his magician's wax leaking down my
throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel.
My throat was so full of love lollipop and ectoplasm, the ectoplasm was foaming
down my chin and onto my breasticles. My depravity cavity was trembling like
Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. 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 gammon alley and a 9-iron up my old dirt road. Now, I've been
shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his sperminator made my
shrimp sap trickle like a hungry pig at a trough.

He
munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the
best part of a week. After having my soft-shelled tuna taco pounded, he then
proceeded to hammer my puckered brown eye. Leaving my panties sunny side up on
the floor was the least of my worries as his purple beaver buster slid deeper
into my turd-herder. I can't wait to lap the love piss from his timed slimer.
Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock snot trickling from my old dirt
road and all over my purple cabbage. The pounding of my black hole was so
vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his womb ferret deep in my
balloon knot. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight
of his jebend made my clunge gunge dribble like a leaky tap. I awoke the next
morning with my stench trench still dribbling. I thought it was over but his
muffbuster had other ideas. With my clap flaps now much like a darts team's
goalkeeper, he thought it was time to start sliding my chocolate starfish. Is
now the time to tell him I really need to ease a butt nugget, I wondered? The
unrelenting orgasms from his turgid terror truncheon fucking my mound of love
pudding made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV
Cribs. It was bliss having his kebeb skewer shoved inside me again; stuffing my
fuck gutter with a 9-iron just didn't get my mound of love pudding flowing like
it used to. The feeling of his ectoplasm frothing down my throat got my flange
custard flowing quicker than snot off a whip. By now, my vibrator crater was
sliming like a leaky tap. The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise
emanating from his love lollipop soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio.
If I don't strum the banjo to get my tuna tunnel tears sliming from my fuck
gutter, his spam dagger is going to leave my fishy flaps resembling a clown's
pocket. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my shamevelope got me flowing
pussy batter faster than snot off a whip. My cod crater was trembling like a
tasered slab of chopped liver. With his spunk-filled spam rocket plowing deep
into my pink velvet sausage wallet, the sensation of his giggle stick smashing
my cervix made me quiver like a tasered slab of chopped liver. There was creamy
load oozing from his clunger and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We
were ready for more. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and love piss in my
rusty bullet hole created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of.
My cake hole was so full of love muscle and baby gravy, the love mayonnaise was
haemorrhaging down my chin and onto my rack. When he removed his meaty member
from my poop chute, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake
staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the footlong fudge bullet
off his cunt plunger. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's beef
curtains looking like the south end of a badger going north, and I was no
different! Some girls are happy just to stimulate the genitals through
phalangetic motion when they're alone, but I can't get off without having my
fist in my penis pothole and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my
balloon knot. The fucking makes me spout my pussy batter all over his cervix
cigar.