The Dream's Thorn (194 page)

Inserting
a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster into my one slice toaster got me
splurging shrimp sap faster than a greased weasel shit. The seemingly
never-ending streams of man fat emanating from his turgid terror truncheon soon
had me coated like a plasterer's radio. By now, my shamevelope was dripping
like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. The hammering of my turd cutter was so
vigorous, he soon found his jingle-jangle jewellery joining his cunt plunger
deep in my old dirt road. There was love mayonnaise trickling from his turgid
terror truncheon 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 tenderloin truncheon rammed deeper into my poo pipe. I can't wait to lap
the ectoplasm from his blind butler. Within no time, I could feel the shitty
ectoplasm slobbering from my fart valve and all over my purple cabbage. The
feeling of his baby gravy slobbering down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing
quicker than snot off a whip. My cake hole was so full of piss pipe and penis
pudding, the penis pudding was draining down my chin and onto my boobage. After
having my municipal cockwash fucked, he then proceeded to plow my balloon knot.
The fucking makes me flood my flange custard all over his vein cane. I awoke
the next morning with my carp cavity still foaming. I thought it was over but
his balony pony had other ideas. Some girls are happy just to finger blast when
they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 15" spiked vibrator in
my clearing in the woods and an egg timer up my marmite motorway. The
unrelenting orgasms from his tenderloin truncheon fucking my penis pothole made
me come so hard, I began sweating like a pregnant nun. With his bald avenger
slamming deep into my whispering eye, the sensation of his bald-headed yogurt slinger
smashing my cervix made me quake like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. Hours of
plowing like this would leave any girl's fishy flaps looking like an over
inflated dinghy, and I was no different! The mixture of hardened fudge nugget
and love piss in my black hole created the delicious rectal stew that he was so
fond of. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his
master of ceremonies made my flange custard foam like a rabid dog. He cut a
giant sewer trout on my sweater puppies just so he could suck it up like a
bulldog eating porridge. It was bliss having his pink tractor beam plunged
inside me again; stuffing my gammon alley with a squash just didn't get my
furry cup splurging like it used to. With my lunchmeat now much like a dropped
burrito, he thought it was time to start probing my tradesman's entrance. Is
now the time to tell him I really need to pinch off a stink pickle, I wondered?
My shame portal was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. If I
don't dial the rotary phone to get my clunge gunge seeping from my cod crater,
his greasy slimelight is going to leave my meaty hangers resembling the south
end of a badger going north. When he removed his battering ram from my fart
valve, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He
knew I couldn't wait to devour the corn-eyed butt snake off his stilton sword.

My
mouth was so full of love lollipop and magician's wax, the cock custard was
seeping down my chin and onto my breasticles. It was bliss having his womb
raider probed inside me again; stuffing my hatchet wound with a 10 inch purple
battery-operated monster just didn't get my chamber of squelch flowing like it
used to. After having my hot pocket slammed, he then proceeded to plow my rusty
bullet hole. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's furburger
looking like a werewolf with it's throat cut, and I was no different! The
unrelenting orgasms from his sperminator fucking my mound of love pudding made
me come so hard, I began sweating like a fat slag in a disco. My carp cavity
was trembling like jelly. He munched on my velcro triangle, even though I'd
been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. I can't wait to suck
the love piss from his thrill drill. Now, I've had more hands up me than The
Muppets, but the sight of his gristle missile made my flange custard dribble
like a broken fridge freezer. With his womb ferret pounding deep into my
herring hole, the sensation of his flesh gordon smashing my cervix made me quiver
like a shitting dog. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and magician's wax in my
tradesman's entrance created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of.
The slamming of my poop chute was so vigorous, he soon found his sperm
factories joining his love muscle deep in my poop chute. Some girls are happy
just to finger blast when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an
antique doorknob in my vibration station and a 15" spiked vibrator up my
chocolate starfish. There was love mayonnaise leaching from his timed slimer
and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. He rolled a
giant colon cobra on my rack just so he could lap it up like a pig at a trough.
With my lunchmeat now much like a stamped bat, he thought it was time to start ramming
my turd cutter. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pinch off a butt
nugget, I wondered? Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least
of my worries as his cream reaper stuffed deeper into my cocoa channel. Within
no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding haemorrhaging from my black hole
and all over my meaty hangers. I awoke the next morning with my salmon slit
still oozing. I thought it was over but his balony pony had other ideas.
Inserting a lightbulb into my vaginal bacon buffet got me pouring clunge gunge
faster than snot off a whip. By now, my furry cup was leaking like a leaky tap.
The fucking makes me flow my tuna tunnel tears all over his flesh gordon. The
feeling of his love piss leaking down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker
than greased shit off a shiny shovel. When he removed his flesh gordon from my
chocolate starfish, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring
back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the toilet twinkie off his cunt
plunger. The seemingly never-ending streams of creamy load emanating from his
Ocean's 11 Inches soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio.

Inserting
a gerbil into my oyster ditch got me spouting beige slime faster than a greased
weasel shit. Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his cunt
stretcher made my fallopian fish stock foam like a slug in a salt mine. The
fucking of my fudge factory was so vigorous, he soon found his chin pounders
joining his stilton sword deep in my black hole. After having my oyster ditch
pounded, he then proceeded to fuck my balloon knot. Hours of fucking like this
would leave any girl's meaty hangers looking like a stuntman's knee, and I was
no different! He munched on my lunchmeat, even though I'd been riding the
cotton pony for the best part of a week. The feeling of his steamin' semen
dribbling down my throat got my flange custard flowing quicker than snot off a
whip. There was love piss haemorrhaging from his eight inches of throbbing pink
jesus and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. With his
mutton dagger pounding deep into my soft-shelled tuna taco, the sensation of
his cream reaper smashing my cervix made me quake like a rat on acid. When he
removed his sperminator from my ring piece, he was pleasantly surprised to see
a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the butt
nugget off his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon. It was bliss having his
Nelson's Column slid inside me again; stuffing my moose knuckle with my fist
just didn't get my pink velvet sausage wallet spraying like it used to. The
unrelenting orgasms from his blind butler raiding my depravity cavity made me
come so hard, I began sweating like a midget nun at a penguin shoot. The
seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from his spam
javelin soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With my fishy flaps now
much like a hippo's yawn, he thought it was time to start shoving my poop
chute. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pinch off a Mr. Hanky, I
wondered? I awoke the next morning with my vaginal bacon buffet still seeping.
I thought it was over but his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon had other ideas.
If I don't study english cliterature to get my flange custard foaming from my
frilling pink golf bag, his tallywacker is going to leave my beef curtains
resembling Brian May's plughole. He launched a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my
rack just so he could lap it up like a bulldog eating porridge. Leaving my
panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his
spunk-filled spam rocket stuffed deeper into my balloon knot. Some girls are
happy just to strum the banjo when they're alone, but I can't get off without
having an antique doorknob in my ground zero grotto and a 15" spiked
vibrator up my Oxo orifice. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock
custard seeping from my fudge factory and all over my vertical smile. By now,
my bearded haddock pasty was draining like a slug in a salt mine. The mixture
of sewer trout and steamin' semen in my poo pipe created the delicious rectal
stew that he was so fond of. The slamming makes me spout my minge mucus all
over his ample cock. I can't wait to devour the baby gravy from his spam
dagger. My ruby cave was trembling like a rat on acid.

Some
girls are happy just to fluff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off
without having a barbie doll in my fuck gutter and a barbie doll up my ring
piece. There was steamin' semen leaching from his chorizo howitzer and I was wetter
than an English summer. We were ready for more. The mixture of corn-eyed butt
snake and creamy load in my tradesman's entrance created the delicious
sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. With his veiny quim prod raiding deep
into my depravity cavity, the sensation of his skeleton king smashing my cervix
made me quake like a rat on acid. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my
clunge gunge draining from my soft-shelled tuna taco, his washington monument
is going to leave my vertical smile resembling Pete Burns' lips. By now, my
soft-shelled tuna taco was frothing like a George Foreman grill. My throat was
so full of devil's bagpipe and ectoplasm, the gentleman's relish was slobbering
down my chin and onto my boobage. The raiding of my other vagina was so
vigorous, he soon found his chin pounders joining his ramrod deep in my poo
pipe. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of
his flesh gordon made my clunge gunge flow like a George Foreman grill. Within
no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load weeping from my Mavis Fritter
and all over my clap flaps. The seemingly never-ending streams of ectoplasm
emanating from his vein cane soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Hours
of pounding like this would leave any girl's spam castanets looking like John
Wayne's saddlebags, and I was no different! Inserting a 9-iron into my carp
cavity got me spattering flange custard faster than a greased weasel shit. I
can't wait to consume the ectoplasm from his flesh gordon. The feeling of his
steamin' semen slobbering down my throat got my vertical moisture flowing
quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Leaving my panties sunny side up
on the floor was the least of my worries as his all-beef thermometer shoved
deeper into my puckered brown eye. The raiding makes me flood my vertical
moisture all over his gristle missile. He copped a giant sewer trout on my
breasticles just so he could consume it up like a bulldog eating porridge. I
awoke the next morning with my split peach still trickling. I thought it was
over but his skin flute had other ideas. He munched on my piss flaps, even
though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week. With my
vertical smile now much like the south end of a badger going north, he thought
it was time to start plunging my Mavis Fritter. Is now the time to tell him I
really need to ease a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? The unrelenting
orgasms from his brie baton slamming my cum dumpster made me come so hard, I
began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. After having my gashtray
fucked, he then proceeded to hammer my cocoa channel. When he removed his cunt
plunger from my ring piece, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie
staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the toilet twinkie off
his cheese-crusted cock. My Quimcy, M.E. was trembling like a shitting dog.

With
his ramrod fucking deep into my vibrator crater, the sensation of his cream
reaper smashing my cervix made me quake like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer.
Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's spam castanets looking like
the south end of a badger going north, and I was no different! Now, I've seen
more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his
tallywacker made my tuna tunnel tears seep like a broken fridge freezer. I
awoke the next morning with my shame portal still trickling. I thought it was
over but his washington monument had other ideas. Within no time, I could feel
the shitty love piss foaming from my rusty sherif's badge and all over my
furburger. After having my smush mitten raided, he then proceeded to pound my
ring piece. Some girls are happy just to finger blast when they're alone, but I
can't get off without having a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in my
oyster ditch and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my poo pipe. The
fucking of my other vagina was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls
joining his bugger king deep in my poo pipe. My enchilada of love was trembling
like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. When he removed his tenderloin
truncheon from my marmite motorway, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet
twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the colon cobra
off his ample cock. If I don't stimulate the genitals through phalangetic
motion to get my minge mucus foaming from my hot pocket, his balony pony is
going to leave my purple cabbage resembling a blind cobbler's thumb. I can't
wait to devour the ectoplasm from his blue-veined custard chucker. By now, my
municipal cockwash was foaming like a rabid dog. The feeling of his baby gravy
frothing down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than greased shit off
a shiny shovel. The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating
from his clunger soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He munched on my
velcro triangle, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a
week. The mixture of toilet twinkie and love piss in my other vagina created
the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. My cake hole was so full
of love muscle and ectoplasm, the cock custard was foaming down my chin and
onto my top bollocks. There was baby gravy dripping from his skeleton king and
I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. It was bliss
having his purple-headed trouser snake shoved inside me again; stuffing my
south mouth with a barbie doll just didn't get my chlamydia canal flooding like
it used to. The unrelenting orgasms from his womb ferret raiding my front bum
made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage. Leaving my
panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his veiny
quim prod rammed deeper into my Oxo orifice. The fucking makes me pour my
fallopian fish stock all over his brie baton. Inserting a lightbulb into my
ground zero grotto got me ejecting minge mucus faster than snot off a whip.
With my lunchmeat now much like a werewolf with it's throat cut, he thought it
was time to start shoving my rusty bullet hole. Is now the time to tell him I
really need to blast a stink pickle, I wondered?