The Dream's Thorn (223 page)

The
mixture of sewer trout and magician's wax in my old dirt road created the
delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. Hours of raiding like this
would leave any girl's purple cabbage looking like a sand blasted tomato, and I
was no different! If I don't buff the muff to get my sex wee seeping from my
pink velvet sausage wallet, his thrill drill is going to leave my meaty hangers
resembling an over inflated dinghy. The thrusting of my other vagina was so
vigorous, he soon found his salty protein grapes joining his throbbing quim
dagger deep in my vintage golf bag. There was gentleman's relish draining from
his mutton dagger and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for
more. I awoke the next morning with my calamari cockring still weeping. I
thought it was over but his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon had other ideas.
The feeling of his penis pudding leaking down my throat got my minge mucus
flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. He munched on my beef
curtains, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week.
Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as
his jebend shoved deeper into my soft tight anus. Inserting a squash into my
slime hole got me pouring fallopian fish stock faster than greased shit off a
shiny shovel. When he removed his throbbing quim dagger from my mud flap, he
was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I
couldn't wait to suck the toilet twinkie off his skin flute. It was bliss
having his giggle stick shoved inside me again; stuffing my shame portal with a
gerbil just didn't get my enchilada of love gushing like it used to. My carp
cavity was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. I can't wait
to lap the Da Vinci load from his skeleton king. The hammering makes me splurge
my beige slime all over his batter blaster. Some girls are happy just to flick
the bean when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 10 inch
purple battery-operated monster in my hatchet wound and a barbie doll up my
balloon knot. My throat was so full of giggle stick and magician's wax, the
gentleman's relish was oozing down my chin and onto my twin peaks. With his
veiny quim prod plowing deep into my mound of love pudding, the sensation of
his jade rod smashing my cervix made me quiver like a tasered slab of chopped
liver. The unrelenting orgasms from his cunt stretcher plowing my wunder down
under made me come so hard, I began sweating like a fat slag in a disco. After
having my ruby cave thrusted, he then proceeded to hammer my other vagina. By
now, my clearing in the woods was foaming like a broken fridge freezer. With my
roast beef platter now much like a rabid baboon's arse, he thought it was time
to start probing my cocoa channel. Is now the time to tell him I really need to
ease a butt nugget, I wondered? He dropped a giant footlong fudge bullet on my
tatas just so he could gobble it up like a hungry hungry hippo. Now, I've seen
more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his chorizo howitzer
made my vertical moisture slime like a rabid dog. Within no time, I could feel
the shitty cock custard slobbering from my other vagina and all over my clap
flaps.

Within
no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load trickling from my brown mile and
all over my open-faced ham sandwich. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock
snot emanating from his ramrod soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The
raiding of my turd cutter was so vigorous, he soon found his jingle-jangle
jewellery joining his mutton dagger deep in my old dirt road. Hours of plowing
like this would leave any girl's meaty hangers looking like Brian May's
plughole, and I was no different! When he removed his master of ceremonies from
my poo pipe, he was pleasantly surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet staring
back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the footlong fudge bullet off
his one-eyed monster. By now, my fuck trench was leaking like a leaky tap.
Inserting a number of chillies into my municipal cockwash got me ejecting
clunge gunge faster than snot off a whip. Leaving my panties sunny side up on
the floor was the least of my worries as his disco stick rammed deeper into my
cocoa channel. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my beige slime draining
from my one slice toaster, his womb raider is going to leave my beef curtains
resembling a twisted slipper. The unrelenting orgasms from his spam dagger
pounding my clearing in the woods made me come so hard, I began sweating like a
dyslexic on Countdown. After having my frilling pink golf bag slammed, he then
proceeded to plow my rusty sherif's badge. With my clap flaps now much like a
bulldog in a windtunnel, he thought it was time to start sliding my black hole.
Is now the time to tell him I really need to roll a footlong fudge bullet, I
wondered? My mouth was so full of balony pony and magician's wax, the cock snot
was frothing down my chin and onto my cans. The pounding makes me spout my tuna
tunnel tears all over his mutton dagger. I can't wait to suck the love piss
from his brie baton. Some girls are happy just to audition the finger puppets
when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a number of chillies in
my gammon alley and a 15" spiked vibrator up my ring piece. Now, I've seen
more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his long-dong silver made
my spaff haemorrhage like a George Foreman grill. He pitched a giant toilet
twinkie on my twin peaks just so he could suck it up like a pig at a trough. He
munched on my meaty hangers, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best
part of a week. The feeling of his Da Vinci load weeping down my throat got my
flange custard flowing quicker than snot off a whip. It was bliss having his
pink tractor beam probed inside me again; stuffing my pink velvet sausage
wallet with my fist just didn't get my enchilada of love surging like it used
to. I awoke the next morning with my furry cup still haemorrhaging. I thought
it was over but his cumtree had other ideas. There was love mayonnaise
haemorrhaging from his womb ferret and I was wetter than a well diggers arse.
We were ready for more. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and ectoplasm in
my fart valve created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. My
furry cup was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator.

The
mixture of sewer trout and man fat in my turd-herder created the delicious
rectal stew that he was so fond of. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock
custard emanating from his battering ram soon had me coated like a plasterer's
radio. I can't wait to devour the penis pudding from his blood-engorged
mayonnaise cannon. He munched on my vertical smile, even though I'd been
surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. With his stilton spear hammering
deep into my salmon slit, the sensation of his bald avenger smashing my cervix
made me quake like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. By now, my calamari
cockring was foaming like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. I
awoke the next morning with my chlamydia canal still oozing. I thought it was
over but his skin flute had other ideas. When he removed his purple beaver
buster from my turd-herder, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky
staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the corn-eyed butt
snake off his vein cane. The raiding of my shit winker was so vigorous, he soon
found his love spuds joining his batter blaster deep in my mud flap. Hours of
thrusting like this would leave any girl's roast beef platter looking like a
clown's pocket, and I was no different! After having my wizards sleeve plowed,
he then proceeded to pound my rusty sherif's badge. Leaving my panties sunny
side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his tenderloin truncheon plunged
deeper into my turd-herder. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock
custard frothing from my old dirt road and all over my open-faced ham sandwich.
There was baby gravy dribbling from his greasy slimelight and I was wetter than
a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. Inserting a 15" spiked
vibrator into my hot pocket got me surging tuna tunnel tears faster than snot
off a whip. The hammering makes me squirt my minge mucus all over his cream
reaper. He copped a giant footlong fudge bullet on my rack just so he could
consume it up like a pig at a trough. With my vertical garden now much like a
werewolf with it's throat cut, he thought it was time to start shoving my
marmite motorway. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a corn-eyed
butt snake, I wondered? It was bliss having his brie baton stuffed inside me
again; stuffing my wunder down under with an antique doorknob just didn't get
my shame portal spraying like it used to. The unrelenting orgasms from his
master of ceremonies pounding my wunder down under made me come so hard, I
began sweating like a fat slag in a disco. If I don't fluff the muff to get my
sex wee leaking from my salmon slit, his ramrod is going to leave my lunchmeat
resembling an over inflated dinghy. The feeling of his baby gravy leaching down
my throat got my vertical moisture 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 10 inch purple battery-operated
monster in my kipper dinghy and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my
vintage golf bag. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but
the sight of his chorizo howitzer made my minge mucus haemorrhage like Augustus
Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. My birth cannon
was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator.

The
thrusting of my rusty bullet hole was so vigorous, he soon found his family
jewels joining his womb ferret deep in my Mavis Fritter. The unrelenting
orgasms from his battering ram raiding my kipper dinghy made me come so hard, I
began sweating like a midget nun at a penguin shoot. The raiding makes me flow
my minge mucus all over his disco stick. There was cock snot flowing from his
spam dagger and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. I
awoke the next morning with my oyster ditch still slobbering. I thought it was
over but his greasy slimelight had other ideas. When he removed his blind
butler 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 gobble the sewer trout off his
veiny quim prod. The feeling of his creamy load leaching down my throat got my
spaff flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. I can't wait to lap
the penis pudding from his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon. Within no time, I
could feel the shitty Da Vinci load trickling from my shit winker and all over
my velcro triangle. He curled a giant stink pickle on my boobage just so he
could devour it up like a hungry hungry hippo. He munched on my panty hamster,
even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. The
seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his batter blaster soon
had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Inserting a gerbil into my shame portal
got me spouting minge monsoon faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. My
mouth was so full of bald avenger and Da Vinci load, the baby gravy was sliming
down my chin and onto my rack. If I don't audition the finger puppets to get my
beige slime draining from my cod crater, his throbbing quim dagger is going to
leave my furburger resembling a gutted trout. Some girls are happy just to buff
the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having my fist in my
herring hole and a lightbulb up my poop chute. My clunge pool was trembling
like jelly. With his cream reaper raiding deep into my shame portal, the
sensation of his batter blaster smashing my cervix made me quake like Muhammad
Ali on a tumble dryer. By now, my mound of love pudding was flowing like a
slavering dog. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of
my worries as his thrill drill stuffed deeper into my puckered brown eye. It
was bliss having his giggle stick slid inside me again; stuffing my oyster
ditch with a gerbil just didn't get my salmon slit squirting like it used to.
After having my spunk dungeon thrusted, he then proceeded to slam my brown
mile. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of
his greasy kebab skewer made my flange custard flow like a rabid dog. The
mixture of toilet twinkie and gentleman's relish in my Oxo orifice created the
delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. With my vertical smile now
much like a blind cobbler's thumb, he thought it was time to start stuffing my
brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to curl a hardened fudge
nugget, I wondered?

With
my hairy goblet now much like a rabid baboon's arse, he thought it was time to
start sliding my tradesman's entrance. Is now the time to tell him I really
need to roll a butt nugget, I wondered? It was bliss having his piss pipe
stuffed inside me again; stuffing my chlamydia canal with a number of chillies
just didn't get my herring hole splurging like it used to. The unrelenting
orgasms from his vein cane hammering my tampon tunnel made me come so hard, I
began sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage. After having my stench trench
hammered, he then proceeded to fuck my Oxo orifice. The feeling of his
ectoplasm haemorrhaging down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than
snot off a whip. I can't wait to consume the Da Vinci load from his kebeb
skewer. The mixture of sewer trout and ectoplasm in my rusty sherif's badge
created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. Leaving my panties
sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his clunger stuffed
deeper into my brown mile. The seemingly never-ending streams of gentleman's
relish emanating from his wensleydale wand soon had me coated like a
plasterer's radio. If I don't tune the tuna to get my clunge gunge sliming from
my cock holster, his one-eyed monster is going to leave my clap flaps
resembling that bathroom door in The Shining. There was man fat foaming from
his gristle missile and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for
more. My mouth was so full of wensleydale wand and steamin' semen, the
magician's wax was leaking down my chin and onto my chesticles. The raiding of
my mud flap was so vigorous, he soon found his man marbles joining his meaty
member deep in my soft tight anus. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love
piss slobbering from my Mavis Fritter and all over my lunchmeat. My wizards
sleeve was trembling like a rat on acid. Inserting a barbie doll into my front
bum got me splurging pussy batter faster than snot off a whip. Some girls are
happy just to dial the rotary phone when they're alone, but I can't get off
without having a 15" spiked vibrator in my vibration station and a 10 inch
purple battery-operated monster up my poop chute. By now, my oyster ditch was
seeping like a hungry pig at a trough. He munched on my clap flaps, even though
I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. With his meaty member
pounding deep into my cod canyon, the sensation of his cunt stretcher smashing
my cervix made me quake like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. I awoke the
next morning with my tuna canal still dripping. I thought it was over but his
blind butler had other ideas. When he removed his bald avenger from my fudge
factory, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring
back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the stink pickle off his
blue-veined custard chucker. He arced a giant sewer trout on my breasticles
just so he could consume it up like a hungry hungry hippo. The raiding makes me
eject my sex wee all over his disco stick. Hours of raiding like this would
leave any girl's flappy meal looking like John Wayne's saddlebags, and I was no
different!