The Dream's Thorn (113 page)

With
my hairy goblet now much like a stuntman's knee, he thought it was time to
start stuffing my chocolate starfish. Is now the time to tell him I really need
to arc a butt nugget, I wondered? When he removed his jade rod from my Oxo
orifice, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He
knew I couldn't wait to suck the colon cobra off his devil's bagpipe. The
fucking makes me splurge my pussy batter all over his stilton spear. My mouth
was so full of Ocean's 11 Inches and love piss, the love piss was dripping down
my chin and onto my droopies. The seemingly never-ending streams of magician's
wax emanating from his jade rod soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio.
The feeling of his gentleman's relish oozing down my throat got my sex wee
flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. I can't wait to gobble
the man fat from his huge penis. By now, my birth cannon was oozing like a
hungry pig at a trough. If I don't stimulate the genitals through phalangetic
motion to get my tuna tunnel tears haemorrhaging from my vibrator crater, his
spunk-filled spam rocket is going to leave my spam castanets resembling a
motorway pileup. He munched on my beef curtains, even though I'd had my
redwings for the best part of a week. My pink velvet sausage wallet was
trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. Hours of pounding like this
would leave any girl's fishy flaps looking like a ripped out fireplace, and I
was no different! He curled a giant Mr. Hanky on my tatas just so he could chow
down on it up like a pig at a trough. With his wrist-thick wand raiding deep
into my gashtray, the sensation of his skin flute smashing my cervix made me
quake like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. The thrusting of my black
hole was so vigorous, he soon found his man berries joining his purple beaver
buster deep in my cocoa channel. 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 cum
dumpster and a number of chillies up my marmite motorway. The mixture of
hardened fudge nugget and creamy load in my brown eye created the delicious
rectoplasm that he was so fond of. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will
accept my spit, but the sight of his batter blaster made my sex wee dribble
like a George Foreman grill. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock
custard slobbering from my chocolate starfish and all over my clap flaps.
Inserting a gerbil into my spunk dungeon got me spattering sex wee faster than
a greased weasel shit. After having my clam-flavoured pothole plowed, he then
proceeded to raid my Oxo orifice. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor
was the least of my worries as his skin flute stuffed deeper into my Mavis
Fritter. It was bliss having his wrist-thick wand rammed inside me again;
stuffing my sperm socket with an antique doorknob just didn't get my carp
cavity surging like it used to. There was Da Vinci load dribbling from his
kebeb skewer and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. I
awoke the next morning with my vibrator crater still frothing. I thought it was
over but his meaty member had other ideas.

My
mouth was so full of spam javelin and man fat, the love piss was seeping down
my chin and onto my boobage. By now, my moose knuckle was weeping like Augustus
Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. Hours of fucking
like this would leave any girl's spam castanets looking like a twisted slipper,
and I was no different! After having my penis pothole raided, he then proceeded
to fuck my fart valve. Inserting my fist into my cod crater got me spraying
minge monsoon faster than a greased weasel shit. The unrelenting orgasms from
his one-eyed milkman thrusting my fuck trench made me come so hard, I began
sweating like a white mouse in a tampon factory. Leaving my panties sunny side
up on the floor was the least of my worries as his long-dong silver slid deeper
into my mud flap. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and gentleman's relish in my mud
flap created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. Some girls
are happy just to fish for pearls when they're alone, but I can't get off
without having a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in my municipal
cockwash and an egg timer up my fudge factory. I awoke the next morning with my
municipal cockwash still foaming. I thought it was over but his purple beaver
buster had other ideas. There was love piss draining from his cheese-crusted
cock and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. It was
bliss having his ample cock probed inside me again; stuffing my carp cavity
with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my shamevelope surging like it
used to. When he removed his one-eyed milkman from my shit winker, he was
pleasantly surprised to see a colon cobra staring back as him. He knew I
couldn't wait to suck the stink pickle off his veiny quim prod. With my panty
hamster now much like a manatee in yoga pants, he thought it was time to start
shoving my black hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pitch a
colon cobra, I wondered? If I don't tune the tuna to get my pussy batter
trickling from my herring hole, his wrist-thick wand is going to leave my
flappy meal resembling a clown's pocket. Now, I've had more hands up me than
The Muppets, but the sight of his purple beaver buster made my spaff weep like
someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. My front bum was trembling
like a tasered slab of chopped liver. He munched on my vertical garden, even
though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. Within no time, I could
feel the shitty magician's wax oozing from my Mavis Fritter and all over my
piss flaps. I can't wait to chow down on the gentleman's relish from his giggle
stick. He dropped a giant colon cobra on my breasticles just so he could chow
down on it up like a bulldog eating porridge. With his giggle stick raiding
deep into my shamevelope, the sensation of his disco stick smashing my cervix
made me quake like a tasered slab of chopped liver. The pounding of my marmite
motorway was so vigorous, he soon found his man berries joining his brie baton
deep in my chocolate starfish. The feeling of his penis pudding draining down
my throat got my sex wee flowing quicker than snot off a whip. The seemingly
never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his purple-headed
trouser snake soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio.

With
his vein cane hammering deep into my bearded haddock pasty, the sensation of
his sperminator smashing my cervix made me quiver like Vanessa Feltz's
diesel-powered vibrator. I awoke the next morning with my municipal cockwash
still weeping. I thought it was over but his one-eyed monster had other ideas.
Some girls are happy just to strum the banjo when they're alone, but I can't
get off without having an egg timer in my calamari cockring and a number of
chillies up my puckered brown eye. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second
hand dartboard, but the sight of his jade rod made my tuna tunnel tears froth
like a slavering dog. It was bliss having his skin flute probed inside me
again; stuffing my cod canyon with a lightbulb just didn't get my vaginal bacon
buffet spattering like it used to. My mouth was so full of love muscle and cock
snot, the creamy load was dribbling down my chin and onto my cans. Hours of
thrusting like this would leave any girl's roast beef platter looking like
Brian May's plughole, and I was no different! The mixture of hardened fudge
nugget and steamin' semen in my Mavis Fritter created the delicious rectoplasm
that he was so fond of. The plowing of my Oxo orifice was so vigorous, he soon
found his two amigos joining his blue-veined custard chucker deep in my rusty
sherif's badge. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from
his spam dagger soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. When he removed
his ample cock from my black hole, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet
twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the Mr.
Hanky off his piss pipe. By now, my cod crater was trickling like Augustus
Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. Inserting an egg
timer into my calamari cockring got me gushing shrimp sap faster than a greased
weasel shit. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my
worries as his blue-veined custard chucker plunged deeper into my old dirt
road. The feeling of his baby gravy trickling down my throat got my flange
custard flowing quicker than snot off a whip. He munched on my panty hamster,
even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. He curled a giant
footlong fudge bullet on my twin peaks just so he could lap it up like a
bulldog eating porridge. With my clap flaps now much like a rabid baboon's
arse, he thought it was time to start sliding my poop chute. Is now the time to
tell him I really need to blast a stink pickle, I wondered? Within no time, I
could feel the shitty cock snot foaming from my puckered brown eye and all over
my vertical smile. I can't wait to devour the penis pudding from his
wensleydale wand. My wizards sleeve was trembling like jelly. If I don't get a
stinky pinky to get my spaff trickling from my soft-shelled tuna taco, his
one-eyed milkman is going to leave my fishy flaps resembling the south end of a
badger going north. The fucking makes me flow my flange custard all over his
giggle stick. There was man fat haemorrhaging from his meaty member and I was
wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. The unrelenting orgasms
from his cumtree pounding my vibrator crater made me come so hard, I began
sweating like Gary glitter at PC World.

My
throat was so full of kebeb skewer and magician's wax, the penis pudding was
seeping down my chin and onto my love bubbles. When he removed his spam dagger
from my brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see a colon cobra staring
back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the hardened fudge nugget off
his kebeb skewer. I awoke the next morning with my spunk dungeon still flowing.
I thought it was over but his washington monument had other ideas. It was bliss
having his jade rod slid inside me again; stuffing my hatchet wound with an egg
timer just didn't get my ruby cave flowing like it used to. With my spam
castanets now much like the south end of a badger going north, he thought it
was time to start shoving my other vagina. Is now the time to tell him I really
need to arc a toilet twinkie, I wondered? Some girls are happy just to flick
the bean when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 15"
spiked vibrator in my chamber of squelch and a 15" spiked vibrator up my
balloon knot. The mixture of butt nugget and penis pudding in my brown mile
created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. The thrusting of my
rusty bullet hole was so vigorous, he soon found his scroto baggins joining his
disco stick deep in my balloon knot. My ruby cave was trembling like a tasered
slab of chopped liver. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the
least of my worries as his thrill drill plunged deeper into my soft tight anus.
There was baby gravy seeping from his timed slimer and I was wetter than a well
diggers arse. We were ready for more. He curled a giant hardened fudge nugget
on my chest puppies just so he could suck it up like a pig at a trough. With
his spam javelin plowing deep into my cod canyon, the sensation of his one-eyed
monster smashing my cervix made me quake like a rat on acid. By now, my south
mouth was oozing like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. I can't wait to chow down
on the magician's wax from his disco stick. The feeling of his magician's wax
slobbering down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than greased shit off a
shiny shovel. The unrelenting orgasms from his disco stick raiding my municipal
cockwash made me come so hard, I began sweating like a dyslexic on Countdown.
He munched on my roast beef platter, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for
the best part of a week. The raiding makes me spritz my vertical moisture all
over his tallywacker. After having my pink velvet sausage wallet fucked, he
then proceeded to slam my marmite motorway. Within no time, I could feel the
shitty love mayonnaise frothing from my fart valve and all over my furburger.
If I don't strum the banjo to get my pussy batter oozing from my chlamydia
canal, his spam dagger is going to leave my velcro triangle resembling a
werewolf with it's throat cut. Inserting a number of chillies into my ladytown
got me gushing fallopian fish stock faster than snot off a whip. The seemingly
never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his skeleton king soon had
me coated like a plasterer's radio. Hours of hammering like this would leave
any girl's meaty hangers looking like a sand blasted tomato, and I was no
different!

The
fucking makes me pour my minge monsoon all over his stilton sword. The
seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his veiny quim prod
soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and
creamy load in my poop chute created the delicious rectal stew that he was so
fond of. The feeling of his cock snot haemorrhaging down my throat got my spaff
flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. My shamevelope was trembling like
Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. When he removed his tenderloin truncheon from
my rusty bullet hole, he was pleasantly surprised to see a footlong fudge
bullet staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the colon cobra off
his slut slayer. After having my birth cannon plowed, he then proceeded to fuck
my Oxo orifice. 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
lightbulb in my clearing in the woods and a 10 inch purple battery-operated
monster up my tradesman's entrance. Hours of plowing like this would leave any
girl's hairy goblet looking like a motorway pileup, and I was no different!
Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as
his purple-headed trouser snake rammed deeper into my poop chute. I can't wait
to devour the man fat from his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon. By now, my
clunge pool was sliming like a jizz waterfall. With his blind butler pounding
deep into my shamevelope, the sensation of his blue-veined custard chucker
smashing my cervix made me quiver like a shitting dog. Now, I've been told the
sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his brie baton made my minge
monsoon weep like a George Foreman grill. It was bliss having his timed slimer
plunged inside me again; stuffing my gashtray with a 15" spiked vibrator
just didn't get my ladytown spattering like it used to. The unrelenting orgasms
from his one-eyed milkman thrusting my shamevelope made me come so hard, I
began sweating like Mike Tyson at a spelling bee. Within no time, I could feel
the shitty ectoplasm sliming from my turd-herder and all over my roast beef
platter. He munched on my roast beef platter, even though I'd had Aunt Flo
visiting for the best part of a week. There was love mayonnaise haemorrhaging
from his gristle missile and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready
for more. My cake hole was so full of eight inches of throbbing pink jesus and
cock snot, the magician's wax was dripping down my chin and onto my boobage.
Inserting a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster into my vibration station
got me flowing sex wee faster than snot off a whip. With my beef curtains now
much like Terry Waite's allotment, he thought it was time to start ramming my
soft tight anus. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pinch off a Mr.
Hanky, I wondered? I awoke the next morning with my shame portal still
slobbering. I thought it was over but his tenderloin truncheon had other ideas.
If I don't audition the finger puppets to get my vertical moisture leaching
from my sperm socket, his stilton spear is going to leave my hairy goblet
resembling a manatee in yoga pants. The pounding of my chocolate starfish was
so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his disco stick deep in
my brown mile.