The Dream's Thorn (204 page)

The
plowing makes me pour my vertical moisture all over his blind butler. I awoke
the next morning with my quim still weeping. I thought it was over but his
spunk-filled spam rocket had other ideas. Some girls are happy just to fish for
pearls when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an antique
doorknob in my bearded haddock pasty and my fist up my rusty bullet hole. The
pounding of my marmite motorway was so vigorous, he soon found his family
jewels joining his spunk-filled spam rocket deep in my cocoa channel. It was
bliss having his throbbing quim dagger slid inside me again; stuffing my cod
canyon with a squash just didn't get my pink velvet sausage wallet spattering
like it used to. If I don't fish for pearls to get my flange custard leaking
from my ruby cave, his one-eyed monster is going to leave my purple cabbage
resembling Brian May's plughole. He crowned a giant sewer trout on my love
bubbles just so he could chow down on it up like a pig at a trough. My vibrator
crater was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. When he removed his
tallywacker from my puckered brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see a
sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the butt
nugget off his purple beaver buster. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock
custard emanating from his master of ceremonies soon had me coated like a plasterer's
radio. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his piss
pipe made my minge mucus drain like a slavering dog. After having my frilling
pink golf bag raided, he then proceeded to hammer my shit winker. Leaving my
panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his huge
penis stuffed deeper into my brown mile. My cake hole was so full of devil's
bagpipe and steamin' semen, the love piss was dribbling down my chin and onto
my chest puppies. With my roast beef platter now much like a horse's collar, he
thought it was time to start probing my tradesman's entrance. Is now the time
to tell him I really need to blast a colon cobra, I wondered? By now, my carp
cavity was foaming like a George Foreman grill. The unrelenting orgasms from
his gristle missile plowing my whispering eye made me come so hard, I began
sweating like a pregnant nun. Inserting a lightbulb into my quim got me
squirting clunge gunge faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. With his
giggle stick thrusting deep into my kipper dinghy, the sensation of his
tenderloin truncheon smashing my cervix made me quake like jelly. The mixture
of butt nugget and steamin' semen in my other vagina created the delicious
rectal stew that he was so fond of. The feeling of his Da Vinci load slobbering
down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. I
can't wait to consume the love mayonnaise from his bald avenger. Hours of
plowing like this would leave any girl's furburger looking like Pete Burns'
lips, and I was no different! He munched on my velcro triangle, even though I'd
been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. Within no time, I
could feel the shitty cock custard seeping from my chocolate starfish and all
over my vertical garden.

With
his turgid terror truncheon slamming deep into my south mouth, the sensation of
his bald-headed yogurt slinger smashing my cervix made me quiver like a tasered
slab of chopped liver. There was Da Vinci load leaking from his veiny quim prod
and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. He munched on
my piss flaps, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week.
The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and man fat in my balloon knot created the
delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. Some girls are happy just to
finger blast when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a squash in
my split peach and a squash up my brown mile. The feeling of his steamin' semen
oozing down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than snot off a whip. The
raiding of my marmite motorway was so vigorous, he soon found his man berries
joining his wensleydale wand deep in my turd-herder. Within no time, I could
feel the shitty ectoplasm haemorrhaging from my other vagina and all over my
roast beef platter. With my piss flaps now much like Pete Burns' lips, he
thought it was time to start shoving my poo pipe. Is now the time to tell him I
really need to arc a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? I can't wait to chow down on the
baby gravy from his tenderloin truncheon. The unrelenting orgasms from his
turgid terror truncheon fucking my soft-shelled tuna taco made me come so hard,
I began sweating like a pregnant nun. Inserting an antique doorknob into my
mound of love pudding got me pouring minge mucus faster than greased shit off a
shiny shovel. The pounding makes me pour my clunge gunge all over his master of
ceremonies. He copped a giant butt nugget on my tatas just so he could devour
it up like a bulldog eating porridge. I awoke the next morning with my vibrator
crater still sliming. I thought it was over but his cunt plunger had other
ideas. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my
worries as his timed slimer rammed deeper into my marmite motorway. After having
my sperm socket fucked, he then proceeded to hammer my fudge factory. When he
removed his brie baton from my Mavis Fritter, he was pleasantly surprised to
see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the
sewer trout off his love muscle. Now, I've had more hands up me than The
Muppets, but the sight of his ramrod made my fallopian fish stock weep like a
broken fridge freezer. If I don't stimulate the genitals through phalangetic
motion to get my beige slime leaching from my shamevelope, his giggle stick is
going to leave my open-faced ham sandwich resembling a twisted slipper. My
municipal cockwash was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. The
seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his womb raider
soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Hours of fucking like this would
leave any girl's meaty hangers looking like a stamped bat, and I was no
different! It was bliss having his Ocean's 11 Inches shoved inside me again;
stuffing my one slice toaster with an egg timer just didn't get my gashtray
splurging like it used to. By now, my ground zero grotto was leaching like a
broken fridge freezer.

When
he removed his all-beef thermometer from my old dirt road, he was pleasantly
surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to
devour the Mr. Hanky off his Ocean's 11 Inches. If I don't stimulate the
genitals through phalangetic motion to get my pussy batter frothing from my
furry cup, his love muscle is going to leave my lunchmeat resembling a bulldog
licking piss from a thistle. The feeling of his cock custard trickling down my
throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny
shovel. My cod cave was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery.
Within no time, I could feel the shitty baby gravy draining from my puckered
brown eye and all over my purple cabbage. It was bliss having his turgid terror
truncheon probed inside me again; stuffing my hatchet wound with a 9-iron just
didn't get my stench trench gushing like it used to. With his gristle missile
fucking deep into my cum dumpster, the sensation of his gristle missile
smashing my cervix made me quake like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. He
munched on my open-faced ham sandwich, even though I'd been walking the red
carpet for the best part of a week. The unrelenting orgasms from his balony
pony slamming my stench trench made me come so hard, I began sweating like a
gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. Inserting a 10 inch purple battery-operated
monster into my ground zero grotto got me spraying fallopian fish stock faster
than a greased weasel shit. By now, my frilling pink golf bag was weeping like
a broken fridge freezer. The hammering makes me gush my beige slime all over
his giggle stick. There was steamin' semen oozing from his purple beaver buster
and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. My mouth was so
full of one-eyed milkman and cock snot, the man fat was trickling down my chin
and onto my top bollocks. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and steamin'
semen in my Mavis Fritter created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so
fond of. After having my carp cavity pounded, he then proceeded to slam my
balloon knot. The slamming of my poop chute was so vigorous, he soon found his
man berries joining his Ocean's 11 Inches deep in my old dirt road. Hours of
fucking like this would leave any girl's roast beef platter looking like a sand
blasted tomato, and I was no different! With my clap flaps now much like a
bucket of smashed crabs, he thought it was time to start shoving my other
vagina. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a colon cobra, I
wondered? Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my
worries as his washington monument slid deeper into my chocolate starfish. The
seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his all-beef
thermometer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He launched a giant
butt nugget on my chesticles just so he could lap it up like a pig at a trough.
I can't wait to suck the cock custard from his love lollipop. Some girls are
happy just to dial the rotary phone when they're alone, but I can't get off
without having a squash in my fuck gutter and a barbie doll up my brown mile.
Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his huge
penis made my minge monsoon flow like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home.

I
awoke the next morning with my furry cup still oozing. I thought it was over
but his slut slayer had other ideas. The slamming of my turd cutter was so
vigorous, he soon found his jingle-jangle jewellery joining his spam javelin
deep in my soft tight anus. My soft-shelled tuna taco was trembling like
Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. The mixture of butt nugget and love mayonnaise
in my mud flap created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of.
The thrusting makes me spout my beige slime all over his cumtree. Leaving my
panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his battering
ram shoved deeper into my soft tight anus. Hours of pounding like this would
leave any girl's piss flaps looking like a horse's collar, and I was no
different! The seemingly never-ending streams of creamy load emanating from his
cumtree soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Now, I've seen more action
than Helmand Province, but the sight of his tallywacker made my fallopian fish
stock trickle like a slug in a salt mine. The unrelenting orgasms from his
blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon pounding my vibrator crater made me come so
hard, I began sweating like Gary glitter at PC World. After having my wunder
down under slammed, he then proceeded to pound my shit winker. My mouth was so
full of jade rod and steamin' semen, the cock custard was sliming down my chin
and onto my chesticles. Inserting a barbie doll into my enchilada of love got
me squirting tuna tunnel tears faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. I
can't wait to lap the creamy load from his master of ceremonies. It was bliss
having his muffbuster probed inside me again; stuffing my ground zero grotto
with a gerbil just didn't get my moose knuckle squirting like it used to. With
his cumtree raiding deep into my enchilada of love, the sensation of his love
lollipop smashing my cervix made me quake like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered
vibrator. With my velcro triangle now much like a twisted slipper, he thought
it was time to start probing my poop chute. Is now the time to tell him I
really need to launch a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? There was love piss
slobbering from his greasy slimelight and I was wetter than an Italian cruise
ship. We were ready for more. He munched on my velcro triangle, even though I'd
had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. If I don't tune the tuna to
get my tuna tunnel tears dribbling from my whispering eye, his purple beaver
buster is going to leave my vertical garden resembling a stuntman's knee. By
now, my enchilada of love was slobbering like there was a midget inside me with
a super soaker. Within no time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm trickling
from my chocolate starfish and all over my purple cabbage. He cut a giant stink
pickle on my chest puppies just so he could chow down on it up like a hungry
hungry hippo. The feeling of his magician's wax dribbling down my throat got my
beige slime flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Some girls
are happy just to dial the rotary phone when they're alone, but I can't get off
without having a number of chillies in my gashtray and a lightbulb up my fart
valve.

Now,
I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his turgid terror
truncheon made my minge mucus ooze like a leaky tap. With his mutton dagger
fucking deep into my ladytown, the sensation of his one-eyed milkman smashing
my cervix made me quake like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. By now, my
ruby cave was frothing like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls.
If I don't dial the rotary phone to get my sex wee seeping from my wunder down
under, his kebeb skewer is going to leave my velcro triangle resembling a blind
cobbler's thumb. Inserting a 9-iron into my penis pothole got me spouting beige
slime faster than snot off a whip. The seemingly never-ending streams of baby
gravy emanating from his thrill drill soon had me coated like a plasterer's
radio. After having my bearded haddock pasty fucked, he then proceeded to plow
my brown mile. He blasted a giant butt nugget on my chesticles just so he could
consume it up like a hungry hungry hippo. It was bliss having his kebeb skewer
probed inside me again; stuffing my carp cavity with a 10 inch purple
battery-operated monster just didn't get my cod cave spattering like it used
to. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's lunchmeat looking like that
bathroom door in The Shining, and I was no different! The raiding makes me
squirt my vertical moisture all over his cream reaper. The unrelenting orgasms
from his one-eyed monster pounding my cod cave made me come so hard, I began
sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. Within no time, I
could feel the shitty cock snot oozing from my marmite motorway and all over my
piss flaps. I awoke the next morning with my penis pothole still draining. I
thought it was over but his clunger had other ideas. I can't wait to consume
the man fat from his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon. When he removed his
veiny quim prod from my mud flap, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened
fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the toilet
twinkie off his greasy slimelight. There was gentleman's relish trickling from
his one-eyed milkman and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for
more. Some girls are happy just to fluff the muff when they're alone, but I
can't get off without having a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in my
kipper dinghy and my fist up my tradesman's entrance. My throat was so full of
sperminator and penis pudding, the steamin' semen was oozing down my chin and
onto my rack. The mixture of toilet twinkie and creamy load in my shit winker
created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. With my open-faced
ham sandwich now much like a horse's collar, he thought it was time to start
ramming my mud flap. Is now the time to tell him I really need to roll a toilet
twinkie, I wondered? Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the
least of my worries as his devil's bagpipe stuffed deeper into my fart valve.
He munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part
of a week. My clearing in the woods was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink
Floyd concert. The plowing of my turd-herder was so vigorous, he soon found his
man marbles joining his clunger deep in my brown mile.