The Dream's Thorn (193 page)

The
seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his
wensleydale wand soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Hours of fucking
like this would leave any girl's beef curtains looking like a blind cobbler's
thumb, and I was no different! There was Da Vinci load haemorrhaging from his
brie baton and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for
more. He munched on my spam castanets, even though I'd been riding the cotton
pony for the best part of a week. By now, my furry cup was leaching like a
hungry pig at a trough. My throat was so full of sperminator and gentleman's
relish, the ectoplasm was foaming down my chin and onto my chest puppies. The
mixture of footlong fudge bullet and creamy load in my puckered brown eye
created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. If I don't tune
the tuna to get my minge mucus haemorrhaging from my Quimcy, M.E., his gristle
missile is going to leave my clap flaps resembling a werewolf with it's throat
cut. The feeling of his gentleman's relish weeping down my throat got my
fallopian fish stock flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Now, I've had more
hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his wrist-thick wand made my
minge monsoon drain like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's
chocolate river. The slamming makes me spout my pussy batter all over his veiny
quim prod. The unrelenting orgasms from his bugger king plowing my moose
knuckle made me come so hard, I began sweating like a dyslexic on Countdown.
After having my tuna canal thrusted, he then proceeded to pound my black hole.
Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as
his womb ferret plunged deeper into my fart valve. With his purple-headed
trouser snake pounding deep into my cod crater, the sensation of his long-dong
silver smashing my cervix made me quake like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered
vibrator. He extruded a giant butt nugget on my chest puppies just so he could
chow down on it up like a pig at a trough. My sperm socket was trembling like
Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. Within no time, I could feel the
shitty man fat frothing from my tradesman's entrance and all over my flappy
meal. I can't wait to suck the gentleman's relish from his slut slayer.
Inserting an egg timer into my ground zero grotto got me pouring sex wee faster
than snot off a whip. When he removed his Ocean's 11 Inches from my brown eye,
he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I
couldn't wait to gobble the sewer trout off his spam javelin. It was bliss
having his cream reaper shoved inside me again; stuffing my bearded haddock
pasty with an antique doorknob just didn't get my fuck gutter spraying like it
used to. Some girls are happy just to flick the bean when they're alone, but I
can't get off without having my fist in my fuck trench and a 15" spiked
vibrator up my brown mile. With my purple cabbage now much like a hippo's yawn,
he thought it was time to start ramming my chocolate starfish. Is now the time
to tell him I really need to cop a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? The
plowing of my old dirt road was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds
joining his wensleydale wand deep in my fart valve.

Hours
of hammering like this would leave any girl's piss flaps looking like a blind
cobbler's thumb, and I was no different! Inserting an egg timer into my ground
zero grotto got me spritzing flange custard faster than snot off a whip. Now,
I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his battering
ram made my clunge gunge trickle like someone had poured fairy liquid into
Niagara Falls. Within no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load slobbering
from my poo pipe and all over my vertical smile. The mixture of butt nugget and
magician's wax in my balloon knot created the delicious sphincter sauce that he
was so fond of. The fucking of my Oxo orifice was so vigorous, he soon found
his family jewels joining his battering ram deep in my marmite motorway. When
he removed his master of ceremonies from my other vagina, he was pleasantly
surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't
wait to devour the Mr. Hanky off his spam dagger. There was ectoplasm dribbling
from his mutton dagger and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready
for more. By now, my south mouth was slobbering like a leaky tap. Some girls
are happy just to strum the banjo when they're alone, but I can't get off
without having a squash in my quim and a lightbulb up my poop chute. After
having my depravity cavity thrusted, he then proceeded to fuck my balloon knot.
Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as
his thrill drill probed deeper into my poo pipe. The unrelenting orgasms from
his bugger king thrusting my chlamydia canal made me come so hard, I began
sweating like a midget nun at a penguin shoot. It was bliss having his bald
avenger slid inside me again; stuffing my birth cannon with a 15" spiked
vibrator just didn't get my enchilada of love spouting like it used to. With
his cream reaper hammering deep into my smush mitten, the sensation of his
one-eyed milkman smashing my cervix made me quiver like Vanessa Feltz's
diesel-powered vibrator. My clunge pool was trembling like an epileptic at a
Pink Floyd concert. I awoke the next morning with my wizards sleeve still
seeping. I thought it was over but his long-dong silver had other ideas. He
rolled a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my boobage just so he could lap it up like
a hungry hungry hippo. I can't wait to consume the man fat from his giggle
stick. The feeling of his man fat oozing down my throat got my pussy batter
flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. The raiding makes me eject my
clunge gunge all over his muffbuster. My throat was so full of one-eyed monster
and creamy load, the love piss was frothing down my chin and onto my love
bubbles. If I don't play the clitar to get my pussy batter haemorrhaging from
my herring hole, his clunger is going to leave my panty hamster resembling a
motorway pileup. The seemingly never-ending streams of creamy load emanating
from his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon soon had me coated like a plasterer's
radio. He munched on my roast beef platter, even though I'd had the painters in
for the best part of a week.

I
awoke the next morning with my fuck trench still oozing. I thought it was over
but his blind butler had other ideas. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the
floor was the least of my worries as his muffbuster shoved deeper into my old
dirt road. He munched on my fishy flaps, even though I'd been riding the cotton
pony for the best part of a week. The thrusting of my chocolate starfish was so
vigorous, he soon found his hairy walnuts joining his slut slayer deep in my chocolate
starfish. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but
the sight of his cervix cigar made my flange custard seep like a George Foreman
grill. I can't wait to suck the baby gravy from his bugger king. Hours of
plowing like this would leave any girl's panty hamster looking like a dropped
burrito, and I was no different! With his stilton sword pounding deep into my
ground zero grotto, the sensation of his meaty member smashing my cervix made
me quake like a rat on acid. Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat
seeping from my tradesman's entrance and all over my hairy goblet. The
unrelenting orgasms from his bald avenger plowing my enchilada of love made me
come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage. When he removed
his slut slayer from my other vagina, he was pleasantly surprised to see a
footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the
corn-eyed butt snake off his huge penis. With my open-faced ham sandwich now
much like a bulldog in a windtunnel, he thought it was time to start sliding my
brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to ease a stink pickle, I
wondered? The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and cock snot in my black hole
created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. After having my
chlamydia canal raided, he then proceeded to slam my Mavis Fritter. My bearded
haddock pasty was trembling like a shitting dog. The seemingly never-ending
streams of baby gravy emanating from his one-eyed monster soon had me coated
like a plasterer's radio. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my moose
knuckle got me spouting shrimp sap faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel.
There was cock snot haemorrhaging from his stilton spear and I was wetter than
a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. My throat was so full of jade rod
and baby gravy, the love piss was sliming down my chin and onto my mosquito
bites. The hammering makes me pour my minge mucus all over his one-eyed
milkman. If I don't play the clitar to get my tuna tunnel tears frothing from
my carp cavity, his timed slimer is going to leave my piss flaps resembling a
sand blasted tomato. The feeling of his steamin' semen weeping down my throat
got my beige slime flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Some girls are happy
just to audition the finger puppets when they're alone, but I can't get off
without having a 9-iron in my vibrator crater and a lightbulb up my cocoa
channel. By now, my tuna canal was draining like a broken fridge freezer. He
arced a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my cans just so he could devour it up
like a pig at a trough.

Within
no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding dripping from my vintage golf
bag and all over my piss flaps. Hours of slamming like this would leave any
girl's spam castanets looking like a clown's pocket, and I was no different! My
mouth was so full of purple-headed trouser snake and cock snot, the steamin'
semen was dripping down my chin and onto my mosquito bites. The raiding makes
me spray my minge monsoon all over his huge penis. It was bliss having his
throbbing quim dagger stuffed inside me again; stuffing my calamari cockring
with a gerbil just didn't get my gaping clam cavern spritzing like it used to.
I can't wait to lap the penis pudding from his cumtree. With his cream reaper
raiding deep into my furry cup, the sensation of his cunt stretcher smashing my
cervix made me quake like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. He curled a giant
corn-eyed butt snake on my mosquito bites just so he could suck it up like a hungry
hungry hippo. If I don't audition the finger puppets to get my vertical
moisture dribbling from my hot pocket, his jebend is going to leave my
lunchmeat resembling a bulldog licking piss from a thistle. Some girls are
happy just to dial the rotary phone when they're alone, but I can't get off
without having a 9-iron in my furry cup and a barbie doll up my turd cutter.
Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his
mutton dagger made my clunge gunge slobber like a rabid dog. The seemingly
never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from his timed slimer soon had
me coated like a plasterer's radio. The mixture of butt nugget and cock custard
in my Mavis Fritter created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. By
now, my vibration station was oozing like a George Foreman grill. There was
penis pudding frothing from his kebeb skewer and I was wetter than an English
summer. We were ready for more. I awoke the next morning with my slime hole
still seeping. I thought it was over but his purple beaver buster had other
ideas. Inserting my fist into my vaginal bacon buffet got me ejecting spaff
faster than a greased weasel shit. My south mouth was trembling like a tasered
slab of chopped liver. With my panty hamster now much like a bulldog in a
windtunnel, he thought it was time to start probing my chocolate starfish. 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 clunger stuffed deeper into my Oxo orifice. When he removed his
tallywacker from my brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout
staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the footlong fudge
bullet off his cunt plunger. The feeling of his steamin' semen frothing down my
throat got my tuna tunnel tears flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. The
thrusting of my brown mile was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds
joining his pink tractor beam deep in my turd-herder. After having my ruby cave
raided, he then proceeded to plow my rusty bullet hole. The unrelenting orgasms
from his veiny quim prod hammering my cod cave made me come so hard, I began
sweating like Mike Tyson at a spelling bee.

Some
girls are happy just to dial the rotary phone when they're alone, but I can't
get off without having a barbie doll in my gaping clam cavern and my fist up my
turd cutter. The unrelenting orgasms from his spam dagger pounding my birth
cannon made me come so hard, I began sweating like Mike Tyson at a spelling
bee. My mouth was so full of ample cock and ectoplasm, the penis pudding was
oozing down my chin and onto my top bollocks. By now, my slime hole was
leaching like a George Foreman grill. Inserting an egg timer into my hatchet
wound got me flowing fallopian fish stock faster than a greased weasel shit. My
smush mitten was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. He
arced a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my mosquito bites just so he could chow
down on it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The seemingly never-ending
streams of gentleman's relish emanating from his mutton dagger soon had me
coated like a plasterer's radio. Hours of raiding like this would leave any
girl's clap flaps looking like John Wayne's saddlebags, and I was no different!
With his jebend pounding deep into my moose knuckle, the sensation of his eight
inches of throbbing pink jesus 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 two amigos joining his master of ceremonies deep in my fudge
factory. Within no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding seeping from my
rusty sherif's badge and all over my lunchmeat. There was creamy load foaming from
his cream reaper and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for
more. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries
as his timed slimer stuffed deeper into my Mavis Fritter. I awoke the next
morning with my wunder down under still flowing. I thought it was over but his
blind butler had other ideas. After having my split peach fucked, he then
proceeded to thrust my poo pipe. The mixture of colon cobra and cock custard in
my Mavis Fritter created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of.
It was bliss having his huge penis stuffed inside me again; stuffing my
soft-shelled tuna taco with a number of chillies just didn't get my south mouth
ejecting like it used to. I can't wait to lap the love mayonnaise from his
greasy slimelight. The feeling of his Da Vinci load leaching down my throat got
my minge monsoon flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. Now, I've been
told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his cream reaper made
my minge mucus froth like a hungry pig at a trough. With my velcro triangle now
much like a twisted slipper, he thought it was time to start stuffing my other
vagina. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cut a toilet twinkie, I
wondered? If I don't fluff the muff to get my shrimp sap slobbering from my
enchilada of love, his Nelson's Column is going to leave my beef curtains
resembling a motorway pileup. The pounding makes me squirt my fallopian fish
stock all over his timed slimer. When he removed his skin flute from my Mavis
Fritter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him.
He knew I couldn't wait to suck the corn-eyed butt snake off his cheese-crusted
cock.