The Dream's Thorn (175 page)

I
can't wait to chow down on the love piss from his battering ram. He dropped a
giant footlong fudge bullet on my breasticles just so he could devour it up
like a bulldog eating porridge. When he removed his skin flute 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 devour the hardened fudge nugget off
his piss pipe. Inserting my fist into my gaping clam cavern got me splurging
minge monsoon faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. My moose knuckle was
trembling like jelly. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and ectoplasm in my
vintage golf bag created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of.
The raiding makes me gush my beige slime all over his spam dagger. If I don't
audition the finger puppets to get my tuna tunnel tears trickling from my cum
dumpster, his bald avenger is going to leave my roast beef platter resembling a
horse's collar. The feeling of his creamy load leaking down my throat got my
spaff flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Some girls are happy just to fluff
the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an egg timer in
my bearded haddock pasty and a lightbulb up my poo pipe. I awoke the next
morning with my hatchet wound still dribbling. I thought it was over but his
cervix cigar had other ideas. With his one-eyed monster hammering deep into my
slime hole, the sensation of his thrill drill smashing my cervix made me quiver
like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. Leaving my panties sunny side up
on the floor was the least of my worries as his cunt plunger slid deeper into
my puckered brown eye. The thrusting of my chocolate starfish was so vigorous,
he soon found his salty protein grapes joining his stilton spear deep in my
shit winker. My cake hole was so full of brie baton and love piss, the
gentleman's relish was sliming down my chin and onto my twin peaks. The
unrelenting orgasms from his thrill drill fucking my clearing in the woods made
me come so hard, I began sweating like a pregnant nun. There was love piss
foaming from his flesh gordon and I was wetter than an English summer. We were
ready for more. Within no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding foaming
from my puckered brown eye and all over my hairy goblet. By now, my meat purse
was leaking like a slug in a salt mine. With my beef curtains now much like a
bulldog licking piss from a thistle, he thought it was time to start shoving my
soft tight anus. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a stink
pickle, I wondered? Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the
sight of his slut slayer made my vertical moisture haemorrhage like a leaky
tap. He munched on my fishy flaps, even though I'd been surfing the crimson
tide for the best part of a week. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock
snot emanating from his timed slimer soon had me coated like a plasterer's
radio. It was bliss having his slut slayer shoved inside me again; stuffing my
gashtray with a gerbil just didn't get my bearded haddock pasty spraying like
it used to. After having my municipal cockwash plowed, he then proceeded to
pound my shit winker.

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 cod canyon and a barbie doll up my soft
tight anus. The unrelenting orgasms from his veiny quim prod hammering my
gashtray made me come so hard, I began sweating like a white mouse in a tampon
factory. My throat was so full of turgid terror truncheon and Da Vinci load,
the steamin' semen was flowing down my chin and onto my chesticles. Leaving my
panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his greasy
kebab skewer shoved deeper into my balloon knot. The raiding makes me squirt my
pussy batter all over his bugger king. When he removed his eight inches of
throbbing pink jesus from my cocoa channel, he was pleasantly surprised to see
a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the hardened
fudge nugget off his spunk-filled spam rocket. I can't wait to suck the creamy
load from his vein cane. After having my herring hole thrusted, he then
proceeded to fuck my poo pipe. With my furburger now much like a stamped bat,
he thought it was time to start ramming my rusty bullet hole. Is now the time
to tell him I really need to arc a toilet twinkie, I wondered? He crowned a
giant corn-eyed butt snake on my chesticles just so he could consume it up like
a bulldog eating porridge. I awoke the next morning with my penis pothole still
foaming. I thought it was over but his sperminator had other ideas. Inserting a
lightbulb into my vibrator crater got me spritzing sex wee faster than a
greased weasel shit. With his all-beef thermometer hammering deep into my
oyster ditch, the sensation of his sperminator smashing my cervix made me quake
like jelly. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's hairy goblet
looking like a hippo's yawn, and I was no different! There was magician's wax
trickling from his skeleton king and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We
were ready for more. The feeling of his penis pudding haemorrhaging down my
throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Within no
time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm draining from my old dirt road and all
over my velcro triangle. My salmon slit was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's
diesel-powered vibrator. The mixture of toilet twinkie and magician's wax in my
shit winker created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. The
seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his batter
blaster soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Now, I've seen more pricks
than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his turgid terror truncheon made
my shrimp sap flow like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. The raiding of my
balloon knot was so vigorous, he soon found his salty protein grapes joining
his skeleton king deep in my marmite motorway. By now, my smush mitten was
oozing like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. If I don't
finger blast to get my minge monsoon frothing from my shame portal, his balony
pony is going to leave my hairy goblet resembling a bulldog in a windtunnel. He
munched on my clap flaps, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part
of a week.

The
seemingly never-ending streams of baby gravy emanating from his batter blaster
soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Inserting a 9-iron into my furry
cup got me gushing sex wee faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Now,
I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his
thrill drill made my pussy batter leak like a rabid dog. When he removed his
timed slimer from my brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed
butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the Mr. Hanky
off his chorizo howitzer. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's
hairy goblet looking like a dropped burrito, and I was no different! Leaving my
panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his skeleton
king slid deeper into my fart valve. If I don't fluff the muff to get my minge
mucus oozing from my vibration station, his one-eyed monster is going to leave
my velcro triangle resembling a bulldog in a windtunnel. With his piss pipe
plowing deep into my sperm socket, the sensation of his all-beef thermometer
smashing my cervix made me quake like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. He
copped a giant stink pickle on my chest puppies just so he could chow down on
it up like a pig at a trough. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and cock custard in my
ring piece created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. The feeling
of his baby gravy dribbling down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than
greased shit off a shiny shovel. Some girls are happy just to buff the muff
when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 10 inch purple
battery-operated monster in my chlamydia canal and my fist up my rusty bullet
hole. There was magician's wax trickling from his clunger and I was wetter than
an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. My wunder down under was
trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. With my velcro triangle
now much like a shot cat, he thought it was time to start sliding my brown eye.
Is now the time to tell him I really need to curl a footlong fudge bullet, I
wondered? Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock custard draining from my
soft tight anus and all over my panty hamster. The thrusting makes me flood my
shrimp sap all over his spam dagger. I can't wait to suck the Da Vinci load
from his cheese-crusted cock. After having my quim fucked, he then proceeded to
plow my black hole. He munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd been up on
bricks for the best part of a week. My cake hole was so full of long-dong
silver and ectoplasm, the penis pudding was leaching down my chin and onto my
top bollocks. By now, my vaginal bacon buffet was haemorrhaging like someone
had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. I awoke the next morning with my
gammon alley still leaching. I thought it was over but his cumtree had other
ideas. The unrelenting orgasms from his jade rod fucking my Quimcy, M.E. made
me come so hard, I began sweating like Mike Tyson at a spelling bee. The
pounding of my rusty sherif's badge was so vigorous, he soon found his two
amigos joining his Nelson's Column deep in my balloon knot.

The
plowing makes me gush my beige slime all over his piss pipe. After having my
ladytown thrusted, he then proceeded to thrust my Oxo orifice. The mixture of
corn-eyed butt snake and cock custard in my brown eye created the delicious
sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. Hours of slamming like this would leave
any girl's purple cabbage looking like an over inflated dinghy, and I was no
different! Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my
worries as his muffbuster slid deeper into my mud flap. With his all-beef
thermometer fucking deep into my oyster ditch, the sensation of his giggle
stick smashing my cervix made me quiver like a shitting dog. Now, I've had more
hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his giggle stick made my
fallopian fish stock ooze like there was a midget inside me with a super
soaker. With my roast beef platter now much like a blind cobbler's thumb, he
thought it was time to start sliding my poop chute. Is now the time to tell him
I really need to extrude a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? Inserting a
squash into my clearing in the woods got me spraying tuna tunnel tears faster
than a greased weasel shit. It was bliss having his spam javelin slid inside me
again; stuffing my moose knuckle with my fist just didn't get my bearded
haddock pasty splurging like it used to. By now, my oyster ditch was foaming
like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. I awoke the next morning with my
chamber of squelch still dripping. I thought it was over but his one-eyed
milkman had other ideas. My cake hole was so full of spam dagger and Da Vinci
load, the gentleman's relish was leaking down my chin and onto my sweater
puppies. The feeling of his love mayonnaise leaking down my throat got my pussy
batter flowing quicker than snot off a whip. He extruded a giant sewer trout on
my breasticles just so he could lap it up like a bulldog eating porridge. I
can't wait to gobble the ectoplasm from his mutton dagger. If I don't finger
blast to get my flange custard frothing from my oyster ditch, his cunt plunger
is going to leave my panty hamster resembling the south end of a badger going
north. The seemingly never-ending streams of love piss emanating from his
Nelson's Column soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He munched on my
meaty hangers, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week.
Within no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding sliming from my fudge
factory and all over my furburger. There was cock snot foaming from his giggle
stick and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. 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 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in
my gaping clam cavern and a barbie doll up my brown eye. When he removed his
veiny quim prod from my brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink
pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the toilet
twinkie off his throbbing quim dagger. The unrelenting orgasms from his ample
cock thrusting my vaginal bacon buffet made me come so hard, I began sweating
like a paedo during a prison riot. The hammering of my mud flap was so vigorous,
he soon found his two amigos joining his vein cane deep in my tradesman's
entrance.

The
feeling of his cock custard haemorrhaging down my throat got my vertical
moisture flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. There was creamy load
dripping from his balony pony and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We
were ready for more. The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen
emanating from his ramrod 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 giggle
stick plunged deeper into my Mavis Fritter. He pitched a giant Mr. Hanky on my
twin peaks just so he could suck it up like a hungry hungry hippo. After having
my depravity cavity thrusted, he then proceeded to slam my soft tight anus. My
throat was so full of chubstep and gentleman's relish, the man fat was flowing
down my chin and onto my boobage. It was bliss having his love lollipop rammed
inside me again; stuffing my vibrator crater with a squash just didn't get my front
bum splurging like it used to. By now, my cod crater was dribbling like Wayne
Rooney's dick in an OAP home. The thrusting makes me spit my minge mucus all
over his cheese-crusted cock. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's
beef curtains looking like Brian May's plughole, and I was no different! My
vibration station was trembling like jelly. Now, I've seen more action than
Helmand Province, but the sight of his stilton spear made my pussy batter
dribble like a hungry pig at a trough. With my flappy meal now much like a
badly wrapped kebab, he thought it was time to start shoving my rusty bullet
hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a hardened fudge
nugget, I wondered? If I don't fluff the muff to get my shrimp sap leaking from
my smush mitten, his bugger king is going to leave my purple cabbage resembling
a stamped bat. Inserting an antique doorknob into my clearing in the woods got
me surging minge mucus faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. With his
cream reaper thrusting deep into my hatchet wound, the sensation of his giggle
stick smashing my cervix made me quiver like Micheal J. Fox licking a car
battery. I can't wait to consume the Da Vinci load from his ramrod. I awoke the
next morning with my gashtray still leaking. I thought it was over but his
chorizo howitzer had other ideas. Within no time, I could feel the shitty
steamin' semen trickling from my mud flap and all over my meaty hangers. The
mixture of Mr. Hanky and steamin' semen in my black hole created the delicious
rectal stew that he was so fond of. When he removed his throbbing quim dagger
from my soft tight anus, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle
staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the toilet twinkie off
his cumtree. Some girls are happy just to audition the finger puppets when
they're alone, but I can't get off without having a barbie doll in my wunder
down under and a barbie doll up my rusty bullet hole. The unrelenting orgasms
from his skin flute slamming my cod crater made me come so hard, I began
sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage. The fucking of my mud flap was so
vigorous, he soon found his kids on a swing joining his bald avenger deep in my
poo pipe.