The Dream's Thorn (110 page)

Within
no time, I could feel the shitty cock custard dripping from my soft tight anus
and all over my lunchmeat. If I don't buff the muff to get my minge monsoon
draining from my spunk dungeon, his greasy kebab skewer is going to leave my
velcro triangle resembling a gutted trout. The unrelenting orgasms from his
jade rod thrusting my herring hole made me come so hard, I began sweating like
Mike Tyson at a spelling bee. There was love mayonnaise dripping from his
greasy slimelight and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready
for more. My throat was so full of cunt stretcher and gentleman's relish, the
love mayonnaise was foaming down my chin and onto my chesticles. Inserting a
gerbil into my clunge pool got me gushing spaff faster than a greased weasel
shit. The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his
flesh gordon soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The feeling of his
love piss foaming down my throat got my vertical moisture flowing quicker than
greased shit off a shiny shovel. My salmon slit was trembling like Muhammad Ali
on a tumble dryer. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's furburger
looking like a hippo's yawn, and I was no different! He munched on my vertical
garden, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. After
having my fuck gutter plowed, he then proceeded to hammer my vintage golf bag.
With his womb ferret raiding deep into my meat purse, the sensation of his huge
penis smashing my cervix made me quake like jelly. With my panty hamster now
much like a gutted trout, he thought it was time to start stuffing my poo pipe.
Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? I
awoke the next morning with my sperm socket still seeping. I thought it was
over but his meaty member had other ideas. By now, my chamber of squelch was
leaching like a slavering dog. When he removed his kebeb skewer from my turd
cutter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him.
He knew I couldn't wait to devour the stink pickle off his tenderloin
truncheon. The plowing makes me flood my sex wee all over his throbbing quim
dagger. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my
worries as his blue-veined custard chucker probed deeper into my fart valve.
The mixture of sewer trout and love mayonnaise in my turd-herder created the
delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. He copped a giant corn-eyed
butt snake on my mammaries just so he could chow down on it up like a pig at a
trough. I can't wait to consume the steamin' semen from his muffbuster. The
slamming of my vintage golf bag was so vigorous, he soon found his family
jewels joining his veiny quim prod deep in my Mavis Fritter. Now, I've been
shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his blood-engorged
mayonnaise cannon made my shrimp sap drip like a slug in a salt mine. Some
girls are happy just to study english cliterature when they're alone, but I
can't get off without having a number of chillies in my cock holster and a
number of chillies up my turd-herder.

There
was steamin' semen leaking from his purple-headed trouser snake and I was
wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. The hammering makes me
squirt my flange custard all over his wensleydale wand. If I don't get a stinky
pinky to get my minge monsoon sliming from my cod crater, his balony pony is
going to leave my beef curtains resembling a shot cat. Within no time, I could
feel the shitty man fat weeping from my Mavis Fritter and all over my clap
flaps. He munched on my fishy flaps, even though I'd been walking the red
carpet for the best part of a week. After having my gammon alley raided, he
then proceeded to fuck my rusty sherif's badge. I awoke the next morning with
my one slice toaster still seeping. I thought it was over but his piss pipe had
other ideas. I can't wait to devour the love mayonnaise from his greasy kebab
skewer. Inserting a squash into my ruby cave got me pouring beige slime faster
than a greased weasel shit. He eased out a giant toilet twinkie on my
superdroopers just so he could devour it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The
mixture of sewer trout and gentleman's relish in my poop chute created the
delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. It was bliss having his
Ocean's 11 Inches slid inside me again; stuffing my shame portal with my fist
just didn't get my tampon tunnel spouting like it used to. The raiding of my
shit winker was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds joining his
sperminator deep in my rusty sherif's badge. With my hairy goblet now much like
a sand blasted tomato, he thought it was time to start probing my puckered
brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to extrude a toilet
twinkie, I wondered? By now, my smush mitten was haemorrhaging like Augustus
Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. Leaving my panties
sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his batter blaster
shoved deeper into my shit winker. The feeling of his love mayonnaise seeping
down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit.
The seemingly never-ending streams of man fat emanating from his one-eyed
monster soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. When he removed his
cumtree from my rusty bullet hole, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink
pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the butt nugget
off his greasy kebab skewer. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's
furburger looking like a stamped bat, and I was no different! The unrelenting
orgasms from his bald-headed yogurt slinger pounding my shamevelope made me
come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage. My mouth was so
full of bugger king and penis pudding, the creamy load was seeping down my chin
and onto my cans. My wizards sleeve was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a
car battery. Some girls are happy just to finger blast when they're alone, but
I can't get off without having an egg timer in my wunder down under and a
squash up my poop chute. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental
optician, but the sight of his cream reaper made my beige slime haemorrhage
like a slavering dog.

By
now, my mound of love pudding was haemorrhaging like someone had poured fairy
liquid into Niagara Falls. After having my pink velvet sausage wallet thrusted,
he then proceeded to plow my turd-herder. He munched on my clap flaps, even
though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. Leaving
my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his
one-eyed milkman stuffed deeper into my rusty bullet hole. Hours of raiding
like this would leave any girl's spam castanets looking like the Japanese flag,
and I was no different! The plowing of my balloon knot was so vigorous, he soon
found his man berries joining his spam javelin deep in my rusty bullet hole. My
mouth was so full of mutton dagger and gentleman's relish, the steamin' semen
was trickling down my chin and onto my fiery biscuits. When he removed his
thrill drill from my ring piece, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky
staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the corn-eyed butt snake
off his timed slimer. It was bliss having his skeleton king stuffed inside me
again; stuffing my wunder down under with an egg timer just didn't get my
shamevelope squirting like it used to. The seemingly never-ending streams of
gentleman's relish emanating from his battering ram soon had me coated like a
plasterer's radio. There was love mayonnaise frothing from his chorizo howitzer
and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. Within no
time, I could feel the shitty gentleman's relish dribbling from my brown mile
and all over my spam castanets. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and penis
pudding in my cocoa channel created the delicious rectal stew that he was so
fond of. With his muffbuster slamming deep into my cod cave, the sensation of
his jebend smashing my cervix made me quiver like jelly. Inserting a barbie
doll into my stench trench got me pouring flange custard faster than snot off a
whip. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his
cumtree made my minge monsoon haemorrhage like a hungry pig at a trough. The
unrelenting orgasms from his womb ferret thrusting my tuna canal made me come
so hard, I began sweating like a midget nun at a penguin shoot. I can't wait to
chow down on the Da Vinci load from his skeleton king. I awoke the next morning
with my carp cavity still dribbling. I thought it was over but his stilton
spear had other ideas. The hammering makes me spout my pussy batter all over
his cunt stretcher. If I don't play the clitar to get my shrimp sap trickling
from my hot pocket, his wensleydale wand is going to leave my furburger
resembling Brian May's plughole. The feeling of his love mayonnaise oozing down
my throat got my sex wee flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel.
My depravity cavity was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. He
pinched off a giant Mr. Hanky on my twin peaks just so he could suck it up like
a pig at a trough. Some girls are happy just to fluff the muff when they're alone,
but I can't get off without having a lightbulb in my cum dumpster and a 10 inch
purple battery-operated monster up my other vagina.

I
awoke the next morning with my split peach still seeping. I thought it was over
but his bugger king had other ideas. If I don't stimulate the genitals through
phalangetic motion to get my sex wee oozing from my wizards sleeve, his veiny
quim prod is going to leave my vertical garden resembling a sand blasted
tomato. Some girls are happy just to buff the muff when they're alone, but I
can't get off without having a gerbil in my wunder down under and a number of
chillies up my Oxo orifice. The mixture of colon cobra and cock snot in my
Mavis Fritter created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. Leaving
my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his
cumtree probed deeper into my vintage golf bag. It was bliss having his skin
flute probed inside me again; stuffing my cod canyon with my fist just didn't
get my hatchet wound squirting like it used to. The feeling of his baby gravy
draining down my throat got my vertical moisture flowing quicker than greased
shit off a shiny shovel. The pounding of my turd-herder was so vigorous, he
soon found his two amigos joining his huge penis deep in my puckered brown eye.
With his blue-veined custard chucker plowing deep into my shamevelope, the
sensation of his piss pipe smashing my cervix made me quake like Vanessa
Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. My stench trench was trembling like jelly. The
seemingly never-ending streams of creamy load emanating from his ramrod soon
had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The raiding makes me spit my spaff all
over his gristle missile. By now, my clearing in the woods was trickling like a
hungry pig at a trough. The unrelenting orgasms from his greasy kebab skewer
thrusting my ladytown made me come so hard, I began sweating like a whore in a
confessional. There was Da Vinci load dribbling from his purple beaver buster
and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. I can't wait
to devour the steamin' semen from his stilton sword. He munched on my clap
flaps, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week.
When he removed his vein cane from my brown eye, 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 long-dong silver. Inserting a lightbulb into
my cod crater got me flowing vertical moisture faster than a greased weasel
shit. With my furburger now much like the south end of a badger going north, he
thought it was time to start stuffing my balloon knot. Is now the time to tell
him I really need to roll a stink pickle, I wondered? My throat was so full of
blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon and baby gravy, the gentleman's relish was
oozing down my chin and onto my droopies. Within no time, I could feel the
shitty man fat haemorrhaging from my turd-herder and all over my flappy meal.
He rolled a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my sweater puppies just so he could
consume it up like a pig at a trough. Hours of plowing like this would leave
any girl's lunchmeat looking like a gutted trout, and I was no different! Now,
I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his
all-beef thermometer made my tuna tunnel tears leach like a slug in a salt
mine.

Hours
of thrusting like this would leave any girl's vertical smile looking like that
bathroom door in The Shining, and I was no different! With his eight inches of
throbbing pink jesus plowing deep into my vaginal bacon buffet, the sensation
of his cumtree smashing my cervix made me quake like an epileptic at a Pink
Floyd concert. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight
of his wrist-thick wand made my beige slime haemorrhage like Augustus Gloop's
mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. My ground zero grotto was
trembling like a shitting dog. Some girls are happy just to dial the rotary
phone when they're alone, but I can't get off without having my fist in my
wizards sleeve and an egg timer up my black hole. I can't wait to suck the cock
snot from his bald avenger. The feeling of his steamin' semen dribbling down my
throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny
shovel. My cake hole was so full of one-eyed monster and man fat, the Da Vinci
load was slobbering down my chin and onto my rack. The seemingly never-ending streams
of baby gravy emanating from his stilton sword soon had me coated like a
plasterer's radio. The thrusting of my cocoa channel was so vigorous, he soon
found his jingle-jangle jewellery joining his womb ferret deep in my rusty
bullet hole. With my furburger now much like a twisted slipper, he thought it
was time to start ramming my Oxo orifice. Is now the time to tell him I really
need to arc a sewer trout, I wondered? When he removed his wrist-thick wand
from my chocolate starfish, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget
staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the stink pickle off his
kebeb skewer. He munched on my hairy goblet, even though I'd been surfing the
crimson tide for the best part of a week. If I don't strum the banjo to get my
minge mucus leaching from my tampon tunnel, his bald-headed yogurt slinger is
going to leave my vertical garden resembling a manatee in yoga pants. I awoke
the next morning with my wunder down under still weeping. I thought it was over
but his batter blaster had other ideas. The unrelenting orgasms from his
Nelson's Column raiding my fuck trench made me come so hard, I began sweating
like a paedo during a prison riot. By now, my meat purse was leaching like a
jizz waterfall. There was love mayonnaise haemorrhaging from his washington
monument and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. The
pounding makes me spray my spaff all over his bald-headed yogurt slinger. It
was bliss having his blind butler rammed inside me again; stuffing my
whispering eye with a lightbulb just didn't get my birth cannon pouring like it
used to. Within no time, I could feel the shitty magician's wax weeping from my
marmite motorway and all over my vertical garden. He crowned a giant Mr. Hanky
on my top bollocks just so he could lap it up like a hungry hungry hippo.
Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as
his bugger king rammed deeper into my ring piece. After having my south mouth
thrusted, he then proceeded to plow my fart valve. The mixture of stink pickle
and creamy load in my balloon knot created the delicious rectoplasm that he was
so fond of.