The Dream's Thorn (39 page)

With
his cunt stretcher plowing deep into my gaping clam cavern, the sensation of
his cheese-crusted cock smashing my cervix made me quiver like a tasered slab
of chopped liver. By now, my spunk dungeon was oozing like a slug in a salt
mine. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries
as his chorizo howitzer rammed deeper into my ring piece. The feeling of his Da
Vinci load slobbering down my throat got my fallopian fish stock flowing
quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The seemingly never-ending
streams of steamin' semen emanating from his timed slimer soon had me coated
like a plasterer's radio. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my beige slime
slobbering from my herring hole, his jebend is going to leave my roast beef
platter resembling a ripped out fireplace. The unrelenting orgasms from his
bald-headed yogurt slinger plowing my depravity cavity made me come so hard, I
began sweating like a midget nun at a penguin shoot. My clearing in the woods
was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. The thrusting of my
cocoa channel was so vigorous, he soon found his family jewels joining his huge
penis deep in my balloon knot. There was magician's wax foaming from his
tenderloin truncheon and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for
more. With my flappy meal now much like a dropped burrito, he thought it was
time to start stuffing my poop chute. Is now the time to tell him I really need
to drop a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? I can't wait to suck the Da Vinci
load from his master of ceremonies. Within no time, I could feel the shitty
penis pudding flowing from my black hole and all over my furburger. When he
removed his veiny quim prod from my mud flap, he was pleasantly surprised to
see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to
devour the colon cobra off his womb ferret. I awoke the next morning with my
clam-flavoured pothole still flowing. I thought it was over but his ample cock
had other ideas. My mouth was so full of devil's bagpipe and ectoplasm, the
baby gravy was leaching down my chin and onto my superdroopers. The mixture of
corn-eyed butt snake and magician's wax in my fudge factory created the
delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. After having my frilling
pink golf bag pounded, he then proceeded to thrust my poo pipe. Hours of
slamming like this would leave any girl's velcro triangle looking like a
hippo's yawn, and I was no different! Some girls are happy just to strum the
banjo when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 9-iron in my
clam-flavoured pothole and a lightbulb up my fudge factory. He extruded a giant
stink pickle on my breasticles just so he could devour it up like a bulldog
eating porridge. He munched on my open-faced ham sandwich, even though I'd been
on the rag for the best part of a week. It was bliss having his spunk-filled
spam rocket plunged inside me again; stuffing my sperm socket with my fist just
didn't get my enchilada of love spouting like it used to. The pounding makes me
flood my spaff all over his ramrod. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second
hand dartboard, but the sight of his chubstep made my flange custard slobber
like a George Foreman grill.

Within
no time, I could feel the shitty love piss sliming from my turd-herder and all
over my clap flaps. I awoke the next morning with my spunk dungeon still
dribbling. I thought it was over but his cumtree had other ideas. Now, I've had
more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his meaty member made my
tuna tunnel tears leak like a hungry pig at a trough. If I don't buff the muff
to get my beige slime foaming from my sperm socket, his piss pipe is going to
leave my panty hamster resembling a rabid baboon's arse. The mixture of stink
pickle and baby gravy in my soft tight anus created the delicious rectal stew
that he was so fond of. My kipper dinghy was trembling like an epileptic at a
Pink Floyd concert. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's purple
cabbage looking like John Wayne's saddlebags, and I was no different! The
raiding of my cocoa channel was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds
joining his purple-headed trouser snake deep in my mud flap. He crowned a giant
Mr. Hanky on my mosquito bites just so he could suck it up like a pig at a
trough. The seemingly never-ending streams of man fat emanating from his
Ocean's 11 Inches soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My throat was so
full of eight inches of throbbing pink jesus and creamy load, the love piss was
flowing down my chin and onto my mosquito bites. Leaving my panties sunny side
up on the floor was the least of my worries as his devil's bagpipe probed
deeper into my fart valve. With his Ocean's 11 Inches thrusting deep into my
municipal cockwash, the sensation of his spam dagger smashing my cervix made me
quake like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. By now, my salmon slit was
leaching like a slug in a salt mine. Inserting an egg timer into my herring
hole got me spraying pussy batter faster than a greased weasel shit. The
unrelenting orgasms from his spam dagger plowing my municipal cockwash made me
come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. It was bliss
having his ample cock stuffed inside me again; stuffing my sperm socket with a
lightbulb just didn't get my fuck gutter pouring like it used to. When he
removed his huge penis from my mud flap, he was pleasantly surprised to see a
sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the
butt nugget off his cunt plunger. Some girls are happy just to dial the rotary
phone when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a lightbulb in my
tuna canal and a number of chillies up my other vagina. There was magician's
wax haemorrhaging from his long-dong silver and I was wetter than a bathmaid's
elbow. We were ready for more. With my hairy goblet now much like a twisted
slipper, he thought it was time to start sliding my poop chute. Is now the time
to tell him I really need to blast a butt nugget, I wondered? He munched on my
vertical smile, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part
of a week. After having my ruby cave hammered, he then proceeded to thrust my
poo pipe. The fucking makes me flow my beige slime all over his huge penis. The
feeling of his baby gravy slobbering down my throat got my vertical moisture
flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel.

Inserting
a barbie doll into my herring hole got me splurging flange custard faster than
greased shit off a shiny shovel. If I don't flick the bean to get my shrimp sap
haemorrhaging from my chlamydia canal, his gristle missile is going to leave my
flappy meal resembling a stuntman's knee. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a
rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his thrill drill made my clunge
gunge drip like a jizz waterfall. The seemingly never-ending streams of creamy
load emanating from his skeleton king soon had me coated like a plasterer's
radio. With his spam javelin thrusting deep into my fuck trench, the sensation
of his wensleydale wand smashing my cervix made me quiver like a shitting dog.
Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his
brie baton slid deeper into my brown eye. Within no time, I could feel the
shitty ectoplasm dripping from my fart valve and all over my vertical smile.
Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's lunchmeat looking like a
stamped bat, and I was no different! He cut a giant toilet twinkie on my
superdroopers just so he could gobble it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The
plowing of my marmite motorway was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking
balls joining his pink tractor beam deep in my marmite motorway. There was baby
gravy sliming from his womb raider and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We
were ready for more. Some girls are happy just to get a stinky pinky when
they're alone, but I can't get off without having a lightbulb in my gashtray and
a number of chillies up my mud flap. It was bliss having his thrill drill
rammed inside me again; stuffing my cum dumpster with a lightbulb just didn't
get my carp cavity spritzing like it used to. The pounding makes me squirt my
tuna tunnel tears all over his Nelson's Column. He munched on my panty hamster,
even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. The
unrelenting orgasms from his devil's bagpipe raiding my vaginal bacon buffet
made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop.
When he removed his bugger king from my brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised
to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to
chow down on the hardened fudge nugget off his piss pipe. By now, my hot pocket
was trickling like a slug in a salt mine. My mouth was so full of jade rod and
magician's wax, the gentleman's relish was trickling down my chin and onto my
tatas. My vaginal bacon buffet was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd
concert. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and creamy load in my fudge
factory created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. I awoke
the next morning with my wunder down under still oozing. I thought it was over
but his stilton sword had other ideas. With my furburger now much like a ripped
out fireplace, he thought it was time to start shoving my shit winker. Is now
the time to tell him I really need to blast a colon cobra, I wondered? After
having my gaping clam cavern plowed, he then proceeded to hammer my mud flap.
The feeling of his cock snot seeping down my throat got my vertical moisture
flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit.

The
seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his greasy
slimelight soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Inserting my fist into
my carp cavity got me surging minge monsoon faster than a greased weasel shit.
By now, my wizards sleeve was leaching like a slug in a salt mine. I awoke the
next morning with my pink velvet sausage wallet still leaching. I thought it
was over but his cunt plunger had other ideas. Within no time, I could feel the
shitty love mayonnaise slobbering from my brown eye and all over my spam
castanets. The slamming of my brown mile was so vigorous, he soon found his man
marbles joining his master of ceremonies deep in my old dirt road. Leaving my
panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his brie
baton plunged deeper into my turd cutter. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a
rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his tenderloin truncheon made my
flange custard weep like a jizz waterfall. Some girls are happy just to get a
stinky pinky when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a squash in
my depravity cavity and my fist up my fart valve. The mixture of hardened fudge
nugget and steamin' semen in my other vagina created the delicious rectal stew
that he was so fond of. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's
spam castanets looking like a manatee in yoga pants, and I was no different! He
pinched off a giant colon cobra on my droopies just so he could lap it up like
a bulldog eating porridge. When he removed his womb ferret from my brown eye,
he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I
couldn't wait to lap the footlong fudge bullet off his blue-veined custard
chucker. The slamming makes me squirt my sex wee all over his spunk-filled spam
rocket. The unrelenting orgasms from his blue-veined custard chucker fucking my
hot pocket made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV
Cribs. After having my chlamydia canal plowed, he then proceeded to fuck my
puckered brown eye. He munched on my roast beef platter, even though I'd been
up on bricks for the best part of a week. With my vertical smile now much like
John Wayne's saddlebags, he thought it was time to start ramming my cocoa
channel. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pitch a stink pickle, I
wondered? My cake hole was so full of one-eyed monster and love piss, the
magician's wax was oozing down my chin and onto my boobage. I can't wait to
suck the love piss from his love muscle. My carp cavity was trembling like a
rat on acid. With his one-eyed milkman hammering deep into my vibrator crater,
the sensation of his skin flute smashing my cervix made me quiver like a rat on
acid. The feeling of his baby gravy sliming down my throat got my clunge gunge
flowing quicker than snot off a whip. It was bliss having his flesh gordon
stuffed inside me again; stuffing my salmon slit with an antique doorknob just
didn't get my south mouth gushing like it used to. There was cock snot weeping
from his long-dong silver and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready
for more.

I
awoke the next morning with my fuck gutter still dripping. I thought it was
over but his turgid terror truncheon had other ideas. The plowing of my rusty
sherif's badge was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his
blind butler deep in my other vagina. With his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon
thrusting deep into my cod cave, the sensation of his womb ferret smashing my
cervix made me quake like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. It was bliss
having his battering ram rammed inside me again; stuffing my vibrator crater
with a squash just didn't get my one slice toaster flooding like it used to. I
can't wait to chow down on the creamy load from his purple beaver buster. If I
don't stimulate the genitals through phalangetic motion to get my sex wee
dribbling from my vaginal bacon buffet, his cream reaper is going to leave my
spam castanets resembling a twisted slipper. After having my gammon alley
plowed, he then proceeded to plow my mud flap. Within no time, I could feel the
shitty cock custard draining from my old dirt road and all over my piss flaps.
Inserting a lightbulb into my chamber of squelch got me squirting vertical
moisture faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. With my hairy goblet now
much like a shot cat, he thought it was time to start sliding my brown mile. Is
now the time to tell him I really need to pinch off a corn-eyed butt snake, I
wondered? The seemingly never-ending streams of ectoplasm emanating from his thrill
drill soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Now, I've seen more
foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his one-eyed
monster made my vertical moisture seep like a broken coffee maker. By now, my
fuck trench was slobbering like a leaky tap. He copped a giant butt nugget on
my mammaries just so he could chow down on it up like a pig at a trough. He
munched on my vertical smile, even though I'd had the painters in for the best
part of a week. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's fishy flaps
looking like the south end of a badger going north, and I was no different! The
mixture of colon cobra and man fat in my Oxo orifice created the delicious
porthole pudding that he was so fond of. My cake hole was so full of battering
ram and love mayonnaise, the man fat was seeping down my chin and onto my
superdroopers. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of
my worries as his cream reaper shoved deeper into my rusty sherif's badge. When
he removed his long-dong silver from my soft tight anus, 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 cunt stretcher. Some girls are happy
just to stimulate the genitals through phalangetic motion when they're alone,
but I can't get off without having a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in
my clunge pool and an egg timer up my old dirt road. My one slice toaster was
trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. There was penis pudding
oozing from his skin flute and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were
ready for more. The feeling of his man fat oozing down my throat got my sex wee
flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. The hammering makes me spritz my
sex wee all over his muffbuster.