The Dream's Thorn (89 page)

Within
no time, I could feel the shitty magician's wax seeping from my brown eye and
all over my piss flaps. Inserting a barbie doll into my cock holster got me
ejecting flange custard faster than a greased weasel shit. The seemingly
never-ending streams of creamy load emanating from his cunt plunger soon had me
coated like a plasterer's radio. The raiding of my balloon knot was so
vigorous, he soon found his trouser conkors joining his kebeb skewer deep in my
old dirt road. When he removed his one-eyed monster 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 Mr. Hanky off his giggle stick. The feeling of his
penis pudding oozing down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than snot
off a whip. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's meaty hangers
looking like Pete Burns' lips, and I was no different! With his flesh gordon
raiding deep into my cod canyon, the sensation of his tallywacker smashing my
cervix made me quake like jelly. He rolled a giant Mr. Hanky on my rack just so
he could chow down on it up like a bulldog eating porridge. Some girls are
happy just to buff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without
having a lightbulb in my mound of love pudding and my fist up my turd cutter.
The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and man fat in my vintage golf bag created
the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. After having my vaginal
bacon buffet hammered, he then proceeded to hammer my ring piece. I awoke the
next morning with my moose knuckle still haemorrhaging. I thought it was over
but his bugger king had other ideas. My cake hole was so full of cheese-crusted
cock and creamy load, the cock snot was leaking down my chin and onto my
boobage. There was steamin' semen dripping from his Nelson's Column and I was
wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. By now, my chlamydia
canal was frothing like a broken fridge freezer. If I don't stimulate the
genitals through phalangetic motion to get my flange custard dribbling from my
fuck gutter, his greasy slimelight is going to leave my panty hamster
resembling a darts team's goalkeeper. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the
floor was the least of my worries as his kebeb skewer probed deeper into my Oxo
orifice. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight
of his sperminator made my minge mucus drip like a rabid dog. The unrelenting
orgasms from his Nelson's Column slamming my enchilada of love made me come so
hard, I began sweating like a paedo during a prison riot. My cod crater was
trembling like a rat on acid. It was bliss having his ramrod shoved inside me
again; stuffing my hatchet wound with a lightbulb just didn't get my sperm
socket flooding like it used to. I can't wait to chow down on the steamin'
semen from his master of ceremonies. He munched on my open-faced ham sandwich,
even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. The hammering
makes me surge my tuna tunnel tears all over his clunger.

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
depravity cavity and a gerbil up my ring piece. With his chubstep slamming deep
into my south mouth, the sensation of his purple-headed trouser snake smashing
my cervix made me quake like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. He rolled a
giant toilet twinkie on my boobage just so he could consume it up like a pig at
a trough. I awoke the next morning with my clunge pool still weeping. I thought
it was over but his skin flute had other ideas. My cake hole was so full of
bald avenger and man fat, the steamin' semen was trickling down my chin and
onto my twin peaks. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's velcro
triangle looking like Brian May's plughole, and I was no different! The feeling
of his Da Vinci load dripping down my throat got my flange custard flowing
quicker than a greased weasel shit. He munched on my open-faced ham sandwich,
even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. The seemingly
never-ending streams of man fat emanating from his all-beef thermometer soon
had me coated like a plasterer's radio. When he removed his balony pony from my
puckered brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring
back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the sewer trout off his
purple-headed trouser snake. I can't wait to chow down on the steamin' semen
from his love muscle. Inserting a 9-iron into my sperm socket got me flowing
clunge gunge faster than a greased weasel shit. The thrusting of my other
vagina was so vigorous, he soon found his scroto baggins joining his devil's
bagpipe deep in my brown eye. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was
the least of my worries as his purple beaver buster shoved deeper into my brown
mile. Within no time, I could feel the shitty creamy load frothing from my
rusty bullet hole and all over my flappy meal. It was bliss having his vein
cane probed inside me again; stuffing my smush mitten with a 9-iron just didn't
get my depravity cavity gushing like it used to. The slamming makes me surge my
tuna tunnel tears all over his mutton dagger. My kipper dinghy was trembling
like a tasered slab of chopped liver. The unrelenting orgasms from his chorizo
howitzer hammering my cod cave made me come so hard, I began sweating like a
blind lesbian in a fish shop. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my clunge
gunge dribbling from my slime hole, his cumtree is going to leave my piss flaps
resembling Terry Waite's allotment. With my purple cabbage now much like a
ripped out fireplace, he thought it was time to start ramming my marmite
motorway. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pinch off a toilet
twinkie, I wondered? After having my wunder down under raided, he then
proceeded to pound my balloon knot. Now, I've taken more poundings than the
Somme, but the sight of his womb raider made my pussy batter drain like a slug
in a salt mine. The mixture of toilet twinkie and steamin' semen in my black
hole created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. There was cock
snot dripping from his piss pipe and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We
were ready for more.

He
munched on my roast beef platter, even though I'd been up on bricks for the
best part of a week. I awoke the next morning with my clearing in the woods
still weeping. I thought it was over but his greasy kebab skewer had other
ideas. The fucking of my chocolate starfish was so vigorous, he soon found his
man marbles joining his flesh gordon deep in my cocoa channel. My meat purse
was trembling like a rat on acid. The slamming makes me flow my minge mucus all
over his gristle missile. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a
baby boom, but the sight of his all-beef thermometer made my tuna tunnel tears
leach like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. He dropped a giant colon cobra on
my cans just so he could devour it up like a bulldog eating porridge. With my
fishy flaps now much like a clown's pocket, he thought it was time to start
plunging my ring piece. Is now the time to tell him I really need to arc a
sewer trout, I wondered? The unrelenting orgasms from his spam javelin raiding
my quim made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish
shop. Some girls are happy just to play the clitar when they're alone, but I
can't get off without having a squash in my pink velvet sausage wallet and my
fist up my black hole. The feeling of his cock custard dribbling down my throat
got my vertical moisture flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel.
The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and magician's wax in my ring piece created
the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. It was bliss having his cunt
plunger plunged inside me again; stuffing my slime hole with a lightbulb just
didn't get my enchilada of love spouting like it used to. Leaving my panties
sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cumtree shoved
deeper into my shit winker. By now, my shame portal was frothing like a broken
coffee maker. After having my shamevelope thrusted, he then proceeded to raid
my puckered brown eye. My cake hole was so full of bald avenger and gentleman's
relish, the magician's wax was leaking down my chin and onto my mammaries. With
his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon fucking deep into my hatchet wound, the
sensation of his master of ceremonies smashing my cervix made me quake like
Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. Within no time, I could feel the
shitty cock snot oozing from my other vagina and all over my piss flaps. When
he removed his greasy kebab skewer from my turd cutter, he was pleasantly
surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to
chow down on the sewer trout off his Ocean's 11 Inches. Hours of thrusting like
this would leave any girl's lunchmeat looking like a badly wrapped kebab, and I
was no different! If I don't study english cliterature to get my vertical
moisture oozing from my soft-shelled tuna taco, his tallywacker is going to leave
my fishy flaps resembling a ripped out fireplace. I can't wait to gobble the
love mayonnaise from his cunt stretcher. There was gentleman's relish leaching
from his blind butler and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for
more. Inserting a lightbulb into my furry cup got me surging minge mucus faster
than a greased weasel shit.

The
seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his tenderloin
truncheon soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. There was man fat
leaking from his blind butler and I was wetter than an English summer. We were
ready for more. When he removed his washington monument from my Oxo orifice, he
was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I
couldn't wait to devour the colon cobra off his blue-veined custard chucker. He
blasted a giant sewer trout on my cans just so he could gobble it up like a
hungry hungry hippo. With my fishy flaps now much like a rabid baboon's arse,
he thought it was time to start plunging my tradesman's entrance. Is now the
time to tell him I really need to extrude a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered?
Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as
his batter blaster rammed deeper into my fudge factory. The feeling of his man fat
weeping down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than greased shit off a
shiny shovel. He munched on my hairy goblet, even though I'd had my redwings
for the best part of a week. The pounding of my balloon knot was so vigorous,
he soon found his scroto baggins joining his greasy kebab skewer deep in my
shit winker. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and cock snot in my cocoa
channel created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. The
pounding makes me squirt my shrimp sap all over his veiny quim prod. The
unrelenting orgasms from his timed slimer plowing my spunk dungeon made me come
so hard, I began sweating like a dyslexic on Countdown. I awoke the next
morning with my pink velvet sausage wallet still dribbling. I thought it was over
but his cunt plunger had other ideas. Hours of pounding like this would leave
any girl's hairy goblet looking like a manatee in yoga pants, and I was no
different! It was bliss having his womb ferret probed inside me again; stuffing
my Quimcy, M.E. with a squash just didn't get my vaginal bacon buffet flowing
like it used to. My throat was so full of slut slayer and steamin' semen, the
cock snot was dripping down my chin and onto my cans. My municipal cockwash was
trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. Within no time, I could
feel the shitty Da Vinci load flowing from my Mavis Fritter and all over my
vertical smile. With his bald-headed yogurt slinger raiding deep into my fuck
trench, the sensation of his batter blaster smashing my cervix made me quiver
like jelly. After having my cod crater pounded, he then proceeded to pound my
puckered brown eye. If I don't study english cliterature to get my shrimp sap
haemorrhaging from my cod canyon, his womb ferret is going to leave my clap
flaps resembling John Wayne's saddlebags. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator
into my stench trench got me spouting tuna tunnel tears faster than greased
shit off a shiny shovel. I can't wait to gobble the cock custard from his
purple-headed trouser snake. By now, my clam-flavoured pothole was weeping like
a rabid dog. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the
sight of his vein cane made my clunge gunge trickle like a slavering dog.

The
seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his slut
slayer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With my flappy meal now
much like a rabid baboon's arse, he thought it was time to start probing my
vintage golf bag. Is now the time to tell him I really need to arc a footlong
fudge bullet, I wondered? By now, my wizards sleeve was dribbling like a broken
fridge freezer. When he removed his giggle stick from my fart valve, he was
pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I
couldn't wait to gobble the sewer trout off his one-eyed milkman. I awoke the
next morning with my fuck gutter still oozing. I thought it was over but his
skin flute had other ideas. I can't wait to gobble the cock snot from his
long-dong silver. The mixture of stink pickle and baby gravy in my brown eye
created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. My mouth was so
full of master of ceremonies and penis pudding, the ectoplasm was leaching down
my chin and onto my chest puppies. Inserting an egg timer into my fuck gutter
got me pouring minge monsoon faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Hours
of hammering like this would leave any girl's clap flaps looking like a badly
wrapped kebab, and I was no different! The unrelenting orgasms from his mutton
dagger pounding my wunder down under made me come so hard, I began sweating
like a pregnant nun. The raiding of my fudge factory was so vigorous, he soon
found his wrecking balls joining his skeleton king deep in my turd cutter. It
was bliss having his skin flute rammed inside me again; stuffing my salmon slit
with an antique doorknob just didn't get my clunge pool gushing like it used
to. 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 vibrator crater and my fist up my tradesman's
entrance. After having my clearing in the woods raided, he then proceeded to
hammer my soft tight anus. My south mouth was trembling like a tasered slab of
chopped liver. The hammering makes me spout my minge monsoon all over his meaty
member. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock custard trickling from my
marmite motorway and all over my beef curtains. There was magician's wax
haemorrhaging from his balony pony and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We
were ready for more. If I don't flick the bean to get my sex wee foaming from
my shame portal, his giggle stick is going to leave my open-faced ham sandwich
resembling a motorway pileup. He munched on my meaty hangers, even though I'd
been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. The feeling of his
love piss dribbling down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than a
greased weasel shit. He cut a giant butt nugget on my droopies just so he could
chow down on it up like a pig at a trough. With his Nelson's Column hammering deep
into my vibrator crater, the sensation of his pink tractor beam smashing my
cervix made me quake like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. Leaving my
panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cunt
plunger slid deeper into my turd cutter.