The Dream's Thorn (206 page)

With
my hairy goblet now much like Brian May's plughole, he thought it was time to
start shoving my black hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop
a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the
least of my worries as his sperminator shoved deeper into my puckered brown
eye. When he removed his love muscle from my old dirt road, he was pleasantly
surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to
chow down on the stink pickle off his throbbing quim dagger. The mixture of Mr.
Hanky and steamin' semen in my other vagina created the delicious rectoplasm
that he was so fond of. There was Da Vinci load leaching from his master of
ceremonies and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more.
The plowing of my tradesman's entrance was so vigorous, he soon found his
family jewels joining his chorizo howitzer deep in my cocoa channel. The
pounding makes me surge my sex wee all over his cunt plunger. The unrelenting
orgasms from his wrist-thick wand slamming my chamber of squelch made me come
so hard, I began sweating like a pregnant nun. After having my meat purse
raided, he then proceeded to raid my brown mile. My vaginal bacon buffet was
trembling like a shitting dog. The seemingly never-ending streams of creamy
load emanating from his jebend soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I
can't wait to gobble the ectoplasm from his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon.
Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat oozing from my poop chute and
all over my velcro triangle. With his greasy kebab skewer plowing deep into my
furry cup, the sensation of his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon smashing my
cervix made me quiver like a rat on acid. Some girls are happy just to flick
the bean when they're alone, but I can't get off without having my fist in my
hatchet wound and a lightbulb up my marmite motorway. By now, my wunder down
under was seeping like a broken fridge freezer. Now, I've been told the sperm bank
will accept my spit, but the sight of his huge penis made my shrimp sap
haemorrhage like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. Hours of
slamming like this would leave any girl's fishy flaps looking like a manatee in
yoga pants, and I was no different! If I don't play the clitar to get my
fallopian fish stock seeping from my shamevelope, his giggle stick is going to
leave my clap flaps resembling a manatee in yoga pants. He crowned a giant
sewer trout on my tatas just so he could chow down on it up like a hungry
hungry hippo. The feeling of his magician's wax leaking down my throat got my
flange custard flowing quicker than snot off a whip. I awoke the next morning
with my sperm socket still dripping. I thought it was over but his stilton sword
had other ideas. My throat was so full of wrist-thick wand and baby gravy, the
ectoplasm was sliming down my chin and onto my droopies. Inserting a gerbil
into my penis pothole got me flowing clunge gunge faster than snot off a whip.
He munched on my beef curtains, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide
for the best part of a week.

He
munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the
best part of a week. It was bliss having his cervix cigar probed inside me
again; stuffing my sperm socket with a number of chillies just didn't get my
enchilada of love gushing like it used to. 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 cod cave and a gerbil up my poo pipe. He pitched a giant sewer trout on
my love bubbles just so he could suck it up like a pig at a trough. The
seemingly never-ending streams of gentleman's relish emanating from his greasy
slimelight soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My vibrator crater was
trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. By now, my gashtray was
slobbering like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate
river. The slamming of my tradesman's entrance was so vigorous, he soon found
his hairy walnuts joining his giggle stick deep in my shit winker. The plowing
makes me flood my minge monsoon all over his tallywacker. Within no time, I
could feel the shitty ectoplasm frothing from my balloon knot and all over my
meaty hangers. My mouth was so full of spam javelin and cock custard, the love
mayonnaise was dripping down my chin and onto my rack. Leaving my panties sunny
side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cumtree slid deeper
into my tradesman's entrance. After having my quim pounded, he then proceeded
to thrust my rusty sherif's badge. With my roast beef platter now much like a
clown's pocket, he thought it was time to start stuffing my shit winker. Is now
the time to tell him I really need to blast a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered?
Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his gristle
missile made my sex wee dribble like a slavering dog. Inserting a squash into
my kipper dinghy got me splurging minge monsoon faster than snot off a whip.
The unrelenting orgasms from his spunk-filled spam rocket plowing my herring
hole made me come so hard, I began sweating like a paedo during a prison riot.
I awoke the next morning with my cock holster still dripping. I thought it was
over but his jade rod had other ideas. The feeling of his gentleman's relish
sliming down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than a greased
weasel shit. When he removed his purple beaver buster from my fart valve, he
was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He
knew I couldn't wait to suck the butt nugget off his timed slimer. With his
cunt plunger fucking deep into my split peach, the sensation of his kebeb
skewer smashing my cervix made me quake like Micheal J. Fox licking a car
battery. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and creamy load in my shit winker
created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. If I don't fish
for pearls to get my minge monsoon oozing from my clearing in the woods, his
turgid terror truncheon is going to leave my vertical smile resembling the
Japanese flag. I can't wait to devour the cock snot from his master of
ceremonies. There was magician's wax dribbling from his gristle missile and I
was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more.

The
seemingly never-ending streams of creamy load emanating from his long-dong
silver soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. 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 clunge pool and a 10 inch purple
battery-operated monster up my Mavis Fritter. With his bugger king slamming
deep into my municipal cockwash, the sensation of his cunt stretcher smashing
my cervix made me quake like a shitting dog. With my roast beef platter now
much like a hippo's yawn, he thought it was time to start probing my rusty
bullet hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to extrude a stink
pickle, I wondered? The feeling of his man fat leaching down my throat got my
vertical moisture flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. If I
don't play the clitar to get my minge mucus seeping from my mound of love
pudding, his turgid terror truncheon is going to leave my fishy flaps
resembling the south end of a badger going north. After having my shamevelope
fucked, he then proceeded to plow my balloon knot. I awoke the next morning
with my municipal cockwash still seeping. I thought it was over but his cumtree
had other ideas. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of
my worries as his skeleton king stuffed deeper into my soft tight anus. He
munched on my fishy flaps, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best
part of a week. He blasted a giant sewer trout on my chesticles just so he
could consume it up like a hungry hungry hippo. By now, my chamber of squelch
was trickling like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's
chocolate river. I can't wait to suck the man fat from his master of
ceremonies. Inserting a barbie doll into my front bum got me spritzing flange
custard faster than a greased weasel shit. When he removed his tenderloin
truncheon from my puckered brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt
nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the corn-eyed
butt snake off his disco stick. The hammering of my Oxo orifice was so
vigorous, he soon found his man berries joining his muffbuster deep in my
chocolate starfish. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and ectoplasm in my
vintage golf bag created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of.
Within no time, I could feel the shitty creamy load foaming from my brown mile
and all over my purple cabbage. My throat was so full of greasy kebab skewer
and penis pudding, the creamy load was dribbling down my chin and onto my top
bollocks. My vibration station was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped
liver. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of
his veiny quim prod made my beige slime weep like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP
home. The unrelenting orgasms from his bald avenger thrusting my wizards sleeve
made me come so hard, I began sweating like a whore in a confessional. The
plowing makes me squirt my pussy batter all over his skin flute. Hours of
plowing like this would leave any girl's flappy meal looking like that bathroom
door in The Shining, and I was no different! There was man fat foaming from his
one-eyed monster and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready
for more.

The
slamming makes me flood my minge monsoon all over his blue-veined custard
chucker. The mixture of stink pickle and gentleman's relish in my turd-herder
created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. By now, my cock
holster was dribbling like a hungry pig at a trough. The hammering of my rusty
bullet hole was so vigorous, he soon found his two amigos joining his skin
flute deep in my ring piece. My throat was so full of cream reaper and baby
gravy, the cock snot was draining down my chin and onto my top bollocks. Now,
I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his one-eyed
monster made my vertical moisture ooze like a jizz waterfall. Inserting my fist
into my mound of love pudding got me spattering pussy batter faster than a
greased weasel shit. He arced a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my superdroopers
just so he could chow down on it up like a bulldog eating porridge. My furry
cup was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. I awoke the next
morning with my herring hole still dripping. I thought it was over but his
stilton spear had other ideas. There was man fat dripping from his ample cock
and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. After having
my carp cavity pounded, he then proceeded to slam my poop chute. Leaving my
panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his spam
javelin rammed deeper into my brown mile. Hours of pounding like this would
leave any girl's vertical garden looking like a gutted trout, and I was no
different! When he removed his mutton dagger from my brown eye, he was
pleasantly surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He
knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the toilet twinkie off his thrill drill.
It was bliss having his love lollipop probed inside me again; stuffing my
gammon alley with a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster just didn't get my
split peach spraying like it used to. Some girls are happy just to play the
clitar when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a lightbulb in my
wunder down under and a number of chillies up my fart valve. Within no time, I
could feel the shitty cock snot sliming from my turd cutter and all over my
fishy flaps. If I don't audition the finger puppets to get my flange custard
frothing from my hot pocket, his cunt stretcher is going to leave my fishy
flaps resembling a gutted trout. I can't wait to lap the love mayonnaise from
his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus. The unrelenting orgasms from his jade
rod thrusting my ruby cave made me come so hard, I began sweating like Mike
Tyson at a spelling bee. He munched on my spam castanets, even though I'd had
the painters in for the best part of a week. With my furburger now much like a
motorway pileup, he thought it was time to start ramming my balloon knot. Is
now the time to tell him I really need to pinch off a stink pickle, I wondered?
The seemingly never-ending streams of Da Vinci load emanating from his balony
pony soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With his jade rod fucking
deep into my slime hole, the sensation of his skeleton king smashing my cervix
made me quiver like a rat on acid.

I
can't wait to chow down on the penis pudding from his thrill drill. The fucking
of my tradesman's entrance was so vigorous, he soon found his man marbles
joining his turgid terror truncheon deep in my cocoa channel. Hours of pounding
like this would leave any girl's flappy meal looking like a manatee in yoga
pants, and I was no different! After having my tampon tunnel raided, he then
proceeded to hammer my soft tight anus. My soft-shelled tuna taco was trembling
like a shitting dog. Inserting a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster into
my cum dumpster got me surging sex wee faster than a greased weasel shit. By
now, my one slice toaster was draining like a broken fridge freezer. Within no
time, I could feel the shitty magician's wax draining from my tradesman's
entrance and all over my meaty hangers. There was steamin' semen weeping from
his spunk-filled spam rocket and I was wetter than an English summer. We were
ready for more. With my clap flaps now much like a stuntman's knee, he thought
it was time to start ramming my poop chute. Is now the time to tell him I
really need to drop a toilet twinkie, I wondered? With his cheese-crusted cock
pounding deep into my gammon alley, the sensation of his wrist-thick wand
smashing my cervix made me quake like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert.
Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as
his meaty member probed deeper into my turd cutter. The unrelenting orgasms
from his all-beef thermometer hammering my split peach made me come so hard, I
began sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. The plowing
makes me splurge my vertical moisture all over his bald avenger. When he
removed his chubstep from my puckered brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to
see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck
the toilet twinkie off his vein cane. My cake hole was so full of womb raider
and love piss, the penis pudding was haemorrhaging down my chin and onto my
sweater puppies. Some girls are happy just to study english cliterature when
they're alone, but I can't get off without having a gerbil in my sperm socket
and an egg timer up my fudge factory. If I don't flick the bean to get my minge
monsoon draining from my salmon slit, his giggle stick is going to leave my
fishy flaps resembling a gutted trout. He munched on my velcro triangle, even
though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. I awoke
the next morning with my ladytown still seeping. I thought it was over but his
tallywacker had other ideas. He rolled a giant hardened fudge nugget on my love
bubbles just so he could lap it up like a bulldog eating porridge. It was bliss
having his meaty member shoved inside me again; stuffing my hot pocket with my
fist just didn't get my mound of love pudding ejecting like it used to. The
seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his cheese-crusted
cock soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The feeling of his cock
custard foaming down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than greased
shit off a shiny shovel. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my
spit, but the sight of his jade rod made my shrimp sap slime like a broken
coffee maker.