The Dream's Thorn (200 page)

By
now, my penis pothole was sliming like a jizz waterfall. Leaving my panties
sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cervix cigar
probed deeper into my rusty sherif's badge. He dropped a giant footlong fudge
bullet on my sweater puppies just so he could suck it up like a bulldog eating
porridge. After having my slime hole hammered, he then proceeded to pound my
puckered brown eye. Inserting an antique doorknob into my hatchet wound got me
spritzing minge monsoon faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. He munched
on my vertical garden, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best
part of a week. Some girls are happy just to fish for pearls when they're
alone, but I can't get off without having a 9-iron in my clam-flavoured pothole
and a barbie doll up my soft tight anus. Within no time, I could feel the
shitty penis pudding dribbling from my turd-herder and all over my flappy meal.
The fucking makes me eject my sex wee all over his spunk-filled spam rocket. If
I don't buff the muff to get my flange custard dripping from my moose knuckle,
his clunger is going to leave my panty hamster resembling a ripped out
fireplace. With my velcro triangle now much like a sand blasted tomato, he
thought it was time to start ramming my fudge factory. Is now the time to tell
him I really need to cop a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? The thrusting of
my marmite motorway was so vigorous, he soon found his trouser conkors joining
his kebeb skewer deep in my Mavis Fritter. My frilling pink golf bag was
trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. There was love piss sliming from
his cunt plunger and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for
more. I can't wait to consume the magician's wax from his skin flute. When he
removed his cumtree from my chocolate starfish, he was pleasantly surprised to
see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on
the hardened fudge nugget off his jade rod. The feeling of his Da Vinci load
dripping down my throat got my tuna tunnel tears flowing quicker than snot off
a whip. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his
clunger made my spaff ooze like a slug in a salt mine. My throat was so full of
vein cane and magician's wax, the ectoplasm was oozing down my chin and onto my
cans. It was bliss having his batter blaster probed inside me again; stuffing
my cum dumpster with a gerbil just didn't get my kipper dinghy squirting like
it used to. I awoke the next morning with my soft-shelled tuna taco still
haemorrhaging. I thought it was over but his skeleton king had other ideas. The
mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and love piss in my turd cutter created the
delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. With his tenderloin
truncheon raiding deep into my gaping clam cavern, the sensation of his timed
slimer smashing my cervix made me quake like jelly. Hours of fucking like this
would leave any girl's vertical smile looking like John Wayne's saddlebags, and
I was no different! The unrelenting orgasms from his blood-engorged mayonnaise
cannon thrusting my stench trench made me come so hard, I began sweating like
Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs.

I
awoke the next morning with my smush mitten still leaking. I thought it was
over but his cheese-crusted cock had other ideas. Inserting a lightbulb into my
pink velvet sausage wallet got me spraying clunge gunge faster than greased
shit off a shiny shovel. The feeling of his cock custard haemorrhaging down my
throat got my tuna tunnel tears flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit.
After having my fuck gutter thrusted, he then proceeded to hammer my shit
winker. He munched on my flappy meal, even though I'd had my redwings for the
best part of a week. He dropped a giant footlong fudge bullet on my chest
puppies just so he could chow down on it up like a pig at a trough. There was
cock snot trickling from his stilton spear and I was wetter than an otter's
pocket. We were ready for more. If I don't fluff the muff to get my clunge
gunge leaching from my hatchet wound, his spunk-filled spam rocket is going to
leave my meaty hangers resembling the south end of a badger going north. With
my velcro triangle 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
drop a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? Now, I've taken more poundings than
the Somme, but the sight of his jebend made my clunge gunge dribble like
someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. Some girls are happy just
to flick the bean when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a
lightbulb in my carp cavity and a 15" spiked vibrator up my marmite
motorway. My cod cave was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert.
By now, my wizards sleeve was frothing like a jizz waterfall. When he removed
his sperminator from my other vagina, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt
nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the stink pickle
off his flesh gordon. The seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax
emanating from his one-eyed monster soon had me coated like a plasterer's
radio. The hammering of my chocolate starfish was so vigorous, he soon found
his love spuds joining his stilton sword deep in my shit winker. With his timed
slimer pounding deep into my ground zero grotto, the sensation of his thrill
drill smashing my cervix made me quake like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd
concert. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's purple cabbage
looking like an over inflated dinghy, and I was no different! My throat was so
full of tenderloin truncheon and cock snot, the love piss was frothing down my
chin and onto my sweater puppies. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor
was the least of my worries as his disco stick rammed deeper into my mud flap.
The unrelenting orgasms from his all-beef thermometer plowing my vaginal bacon
buffet made me come so hard, I began sweating like a fat slag in a disco. The
mixture of toilet twinkie and magician's wax in my mud flap created the
delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. Within no time, I could feel
the shitty cock snot trickling from my Oxo orifice and all over my vertical
smile. I can't wait to gobble the cock snot from his throbbing quim dagger. The
pounding makes me pour my sex wee all over his balony pony.

I
can't wait to consume the cock snot from his womb ferret. The seemingly
never-ending streams of baby gravy emanating from his cheese-crusted cock soon
had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With his chorizo howitzer hammering
deep into my pink velvet sausage wallet, the sensation of his cunt plunger
smashing my cervix made me quiver like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. The
hammering of my turd-herder was so vigorous, he soon found his clock weights
joining his chorizo howitzer deep in my fart valve. My cake hole was so full of
brie baton and gentleman's relish, the love mayonnaise was flowing down my chin
and onto my top bollocks. By now, my municipal cockwash was oozing like a
slavering dog. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of
my worries as his muffbuster probed deeper into my tradesman's entrance. There
was love mayonnaise leaking from his piss pipe and I was wetter than a spastic's
chin. We were ready for more. The unrelenting orgasms from his stilton spear
fucking my clunge pool made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind
lesbian in a fish shop. He munched on my purple cabbage, even though I'd been
walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. The mixture of Mr. Hanky
and steamin' semen in my soft tight anus created the delicious rectal stew that
he was so fond of. My chamber of squelch was trembling like an epileptic at a
Pink Floyd concert. The thrusting makes me spout my clunge gunge all over his
turgid terror truncheon. I awoke the next morning with my hatchet wound still
slobbering. I thought it was over but his throbbing quim dagger had other
ideas. When he removed his skin flute 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
consume the hardened fudge nugget off his bugger king. After having my
shamevelope raided, he then proceeded to thrust my brown mile. It was bliss
having his tenderloin truncheon slid inside me again; stuffing my kipper dinghy
with a number of chillies just didn't get my cod cave spraying like it used to.
He launched a giant colon cobra on my top bollocks just so he could lap it up
like a hungry hungry hippo. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's
velcro triangle looking like a hippo's yawn, and I was no different! Inserting
a barbie doll into my wizards sleeve got me pouring beige slime faster than
greased shit off a shiny shovel. With my open-faced ham sandwich now much like
the south end of a badger going north, he thought it was time to start shoving
my marmite motorway. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a Mr.
Hanky, I wondered? Some girls are happy just to buff the muff when they're
alone, but I can't get off without having an antique doorknob in my south mouth
and a number of chillies up my old dirt road. Now, I've been told the sperm
bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his thrill drill made my flange
custard leak like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's
chocolate river. The feeling of his Da Vinci load leaking down my throat got my
pussy batter flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Within no time, I could feel
the shitty baby gravy leaking from my poop chute and all over my velcro
triangle.

The
unrelenting orgasms from his spam javelin thrusting my ruby cave made me come
so hard, I began sweating like a whore in a confessional. It was bliss having
his Nelson's Column stuffed inside me again; stuffing my ruby cave with a
squash just didn't get my salmon slit splurging 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 9-iron in my wunder down under and a number of chillies up my
Mavis Fritter. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of
my worries as his meaty member probed deeper into my old dirt road. Inserting a
10 inch purple battery-operated monster into my mound of love pudding got me
ejecting vertical moisture faster than snot off a whip. There was man fat
haemorrhaging from his bugger king and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We
were ready for more. With his chubstep slamming deep into my cock holster, the
sensation of his piss pipe smashing my cervix made me quake like an epileptic
at a Pink Floyd concert. I awoke the next morning with my gammon alley still
frothing. I thought it was over but his cunt stretcher had other ideas. My
mouth was so full of greasy slimelight and love piss, the creamy load was
draining down my chin and onto my droopies. He launched a giant colon cobra on
my breasticles just so he could consume it up like a bulldog eating porridge.
Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's fishy flaps looking like a
blind cobbler's thumb, and I was no different! The fucking of my black hole was
so vigorous, he soon found his man berries joining his blood-engorged
mayonnaise cannon deep in my turd cutter. When he removed his purple beaver
buster from my soft tight anus, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet
twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the sewer
trout off his bugger king. The seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax
emanating from his battering ram soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I
can't wait to suck the baby gravy from his sperminator. The feeling of his Da
Vinci load seeping down my throat got my flange custard flowing quicker than a
greased weasel shit. He munched on my vertical smile, even though I'd had the
painters in for the best part of a week. With my hairy goblet now much like a
gutted trout, he thought it was time to start plunging my rusty sherif's badge.
Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a butt nugget, I wondered?
My frilling pink golf bag was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd
concert. By now, my cum dumpster was seeping like a rabid dog. Now, I've had
more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his love muscle made my
vertical moisture slime like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. After having
my birth cannon hammered, he then proceeded to raid my brown eye. Within no
time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load dribbling from my mud flap and all
over my panty hamster. The thrusting makes me pour my minge monsoon all over
his love lollipop. The mixture of stink pickle and cock custard in my turd
cutter created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of.

It
was bliss having his cumtree plunged inside me again; stuffing my cock holster
with my fist just didn't get my enchilada of love gushing like it used to. The
seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his giggle
stick soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. By now, my shamevelope was
frothing like a jizz waterfall. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept
my spit, but the sight of his flesh gordon made my sex wee slobber like Adele
waiting for Greggs to open. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's
beef curtains looking like a motorway pileup, and I was no different! When he
removed his bald avenger from my old dirt road, he was pleasantly surprised to
see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on
the sewer trout off his throbbing quim dagger. There was steamin' semen oozing
from his long-dong silver and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were
ready for more. The unrelenting orgasms from his greasy kebab skewer thrusting
my hot pocket made me come so hard, I began sweating like a dyslexic on
Countdown. Within no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding flowing from
my brown mile and all over my lunchmeat. The hammering of my chocolate starfish
was so vigorous, he soon found his family jewels joining his kebeb skewer deep
in my turd-herder. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and magician's wax in my chocolate
starfish created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. Leaving my
panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his slut
slayer probed deeper into my turd cutter. He extruded a giant hardened fudge
nugget on my love bubbles just so he could devour it up like a pig at a trough.
Some girls are happy just to play the clitar when they're alone, but I can't
get off without having a 9-iron in my birth cannon and a squash up my turd
cutter. I awoke the next morning with my shame portal still dribbling. I
thought it was over but his gristle missile had other ideas. After having my
hot pocket slammed, he then proceeded to thrust my fart valve. I can't wait to
consume the love piss from his meaty member. With my open-faced ham sandwich
now much like a bucket of smashed crabs, he thought it was time to start
shoving my soft tight anus. Is now the time to tell him I really need to launch
a sewer trout, I wondered? My sperm socket was trembling like a shitting dog.
Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my tampon tunnel got me gushing minge
monsoon faster than snot off a whip. My cake hole was so full of cheese-crusted
cock and magician's wax, the gentleman's relish was dripping down my chin and
onto my cans. He munched on my fishy flaps, even though I'd had the painters in
for the best part of a week. If I don't finger blast to get my beige slime
foaming from my chlamydia canal, his timed slimer is going to leave my roast
beef platter resembling a bulldog in a windtunnel. The feeling of his cock snot
frothing down my throat got my tuna tunnel tears flowing quicker than snot off
a whip. With his all-beef thermometer hammering deep into my soft-shelled tuna
taco, the sensation of his wrist-thick wand smashing my cervix made me quake
like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer.