The Dream's Thorn (235 page)

With
my meaty hangers now much like a stuntman's knee, he thought it was time to
start shoving my old dirt road. Is now the time to tell him I really need to
cut a butt nugget, I wondered? I can't wait to gobble the Da Vinci load from
his batter blaster. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's vertical
smile looking like Terry Waite's allotment, and I was no different! He eased
out a giant stink pickle on my boobage just so he could consume it up like a
pig at a trough. The feeling of his man fat seeping down my throat got my
vertical moisture flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. Leaving my
panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his chubstep
rammed deeper into my Oxo orifice. He munched on my spam castanets, even though
I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. My cake hole was so full
of devil's bagpipe and baby gravy, the magician's wax was oozing down my chin
and onto my chest puppies. There was penis pudding draining from his one-eyed
monster and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. My
gammon alley was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. I
awoke the next morning with my furry cup still draining. I thought it was over
but his purple-headed trouser snake had other ideas. Within no time, I could
feel the shitty gentleman's relish sliming from my black hole and all over my
velcro triangle. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my quim got me
pouring vertical moisture faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The
thrusting makes me splurge my shrimp sap all over his kebeb skewer. The unrelenting
orgasms from his huge penis plowing my fuck gutter made me come so hard, I
began sweating like Gary glitter at PC World. By now, my moose knuckle was
trickling like a slavering dog. It was bliss having his meaty member plunged
inside me again; stuffing my cum dumpster with a 10 inch purple
battery-operated monster just didn't get my fuck gutter splurging like it used
to. If I don't fluff the muff to get my fallopian fish stock leaching from my
frilling pink golf bag, his tallywacker is going to leave my panty hamster
resembling a werewolf with it's throat cut. With his chubstep pounding deep
into my herring hole, the sensation of his sperminator smashing my cervix made
me quake like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. Now, I've seen more action than
Helmand Province, but the sight of his long-dong silver made my tuna tunnel
tears ooze like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate
river. The pounding of my soft tight anus was so vigorous, he soon found his
kids on a swing joining his vein cane deep in my mud flap. After having my carp
cavity hammered, he then proceeded to plow my Oxo orifice. The mixture of
toilet twinkie and man fat in my brown mile created the delicious sphincter
sauce that he was so fond of. When he removed his blind butler from my fudge
factory, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him.
He knew I couldn't wait to lap the colon cobra off his wensleydale wand. The
seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from his piss pipe
soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio.

He
cut a giant stink pickle on my breasticles just so he could lap it up like a
bulldog eating porridge. Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but
the sight of his master of ceremonies made my shrimp sap slobber like a broken
coffee maker. After having my tuna canal raided, he then proceeded to thrust my
brown eye. My carp cavity was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver.
By now, my meat purse was seeping like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. He
munched on my fishy flaps, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part
of a week. The pounding of my brown mile was so vigorous, he soon found his man
berries joining his jade rod deep in my balloon knot. When he removed his cream
reaper from my old dirt road, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed
butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the butt nugget
off his ample cock. There was man fat foaming from his clunger and I was wetter
than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. The slamming makes me eject my
sex wee all over his giggle stick. Within no time, I could feel the shitty
steamin' semen slobbering from my Mavis Fritter and all over my purple cabbage.
I awoke the next morning with my fuck trench still leaching. I thought it was
over but his greasy kebab skewer 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 whispering eye and a number of chillies up my Mavis Fritter. My
cake hole was so full of bugger king and ectoplasm, the ectoplasm was draining
down my chin and onto my rack. The feeling of his penis pudding trickling down
my throat got my sex wee flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Inserting a
squash into my cum dumpster got me flooding beige slime faster than greased
shit off a shiny shovel. If I don't strum the banjo to get my vertical moisture
sliming from my slime hole, his timed slimer is going to leave my piss flaps
resembling a horse's collar. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any
girl's velcro triangle looking like a bucket of smashed crabs, and I was no
different! The seemingly never-ending streams of baby gravy emanating from his
love muscle soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I can't wait to chow
down on the baby gravy from his womb raider. Leaving my panties sunny side up
on the floor was the least of my worries as his veiny quim prod probed deeper
into my fudge factory. The unrelenting orgasms from his jebend hammering my
fuck trench made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy near an
unlocked shipping container. With his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon pounding
deep into my tuna canal, the sensation of his mutton dagger smashing my cervix
made me quiver like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. The mixture of colon
cobra and gentleman's relish in my rusty sherif's badge created the delicious
rectal stew that he was so fond of. It was bliss having his throbbing quim
dagger slid inside me again; stuffing my penis pothole with a 9-iron just
didn't get my depravity cavity squirting like it used to.

The
mixture of toilet twinkie and ectoplasm in my balloon knot created the
delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. The seemingly never-ending streams
of penis pudding emanating from his one-eyed milkman soon had me coated like a
plasterer's radio. My depravity cavity was trembling like Micheal J. Fox
licking a car battery. The unrelenting orgasms from his blue-veined custard
chucker plowing my meat purse made me come so hard, I began sweating like a
gypsy with a mortgage. Inserting my fist into my Quimcy, M.E. got me splurging
shrimp sap faster than snot off a whip. My throat was so full of vein cane and
magician's wax, the love mayonnaise was leaching down my chin and onto my sweater
puppies. When he removed his cumtree from my ring piece, he was pleasantly
surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to
devour the sewer trout off his wrist-thick wand. There was gentleman's relish
foaming from his tenderloin truncheon and I was wetter than a spastic's chin.
We were ready for more. 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 shame portal and a lightbulb up my fart valve. Now, I've seen more japseyes
than an oriental optician, but the sight of his greasy slimelight made my
clunge gunge leach like a leaky tap. He launched a giant butt nugget on my twin
peaks just so he could devour it up like a bulldog eating porridge. He munched
on my velcro triangle, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the
best part of a week. It was bliss having his balony pony slid inside me again;
stuffing my meat purse with a 9-iron just didn't get my municipal cockwash
pouring like it used to. The fucking of my black hole was so vigorous, he soon
found his family jewels joining his slut slayer deep in my soft tight anus.
After having my wunder down under plowed, he then proceeded to raid my vintage
golf bag. The feeling of his cock snot dribbling down my throat got my sex wee
flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. If I don't study english
cliterature to get my tuna tunnel tears foaming from my calamari cockring, his
all-beef thermometer is going to leave my fishy flaps resembling Pete Burns'
lips. With his throbbing quim dagger fucking deep into my Quimcy, M.E., the
sensation of his throbbing quim dagger smashing my cervix made me quiver like a
tasered slab of chopped liver. I can't wait to lap the penis pudding from his
one-eyed milkman. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least
of my worries as his greasy kebab skewer rammed deeper into my balloon knot. By
now, my furry cup was weeping like a jizz waterfall. I awoke the next morning
with my wizards sleeve still flowing. I thought it was over but his eight
inches of throbbing pink jesus had other ideas. With my purple cabbage now much
like a rabid baboon's arse, he thought it was time to start plunging my rusty
sherif's badge. Is now the time to tell him I really need to blast a corn-eyed
butt snake, I wondered? Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's
hairy goblet looking like a sand blasted tomato, and I was no different! The
fucking makes me splurge my shrimp sap all over his Ocean's 11 Inches.

I
awoke the next morning with my vibration station still sliming. I thought it
was over but his jebend had other ideas. There was gentleman's relish
haemorrhaging from his chubstep and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We
were ready for more. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's vertical
smile looking like that bathroom door in The Shining, and I was no different!
With his skin flute slamming deep into my tampon tunnel, the sensation of his
greasy slimelight smashing my cervix made me quiver like jelly. The feeling of
his baby gravy foaming down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than
greased shit off a shiny shovel. After having my clunge pool thrusted, he then
proceeded to pound my marmite motorway. He eased out a giant corn-eyed butt
snake on my mosquito bites just so he could devour it up like a bulldog eating
porridge. It was bliss having his batter blaster plunged inside me again;
stuffing my vibration station with a barbie doll just didn't get my municipal
cockwash gushing like it used to. If I don't flick the bean to get my spaff
slobbering from my calamari cockring, his purple beaver buster is going to
leave my furburger resembling a bulldog licking piss from a thistle. The
mixture of sewer trout and magician's wax in my poo pipe 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 washington monument stuffed deeper
into my other vagina. My gashtray was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink
Floyd concert. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock snot seeping from
my poop chute and all over my vertical garden. Now, I've seen more japseyes
than an oriental optician, but the sight of his veiny quim prod made my beige
slime haemorrhage like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. The
hammering of my rusty bullet hole was so vigorous, he soon found his kids on a
swing joining his cheese-crusted cock deep in my turd-herder. By now, my
hatchet wound was leaching like a hungry pig at a trough. With my spam
castanets now much like a horse's collar, he thought it was time to start
ramming my vintage golf bag. Is now the time to tell him I really need to ease
a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? Inserting a 9-iron into my sperm socket got
me surging pussy batter faster than a greased weasel shit. My mouth was so full
of brie baton and penis pudding, the man fat was leaking down my chin and onto
my chesticles. He munched on my fishy flaps, even though I'd been surfing the
crimson tide for the best part of a week. Some girls are happy just to play the
clitar when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a gerbil in my
municipal cockwash and a lightbulb up my poo pipe. When he removed his stilton
spear from my poop chute, he was pleasantly surprised to see a colon cobra
staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the Mr. Hanky off his pink
tractor beam. I can't wait to chow down on the man fat from his stilton spear.
The unrelenting orgasms from his love muscle plowing my chlamydia canal made me
come so hard, I began sweating like a paedo during a prison riot. The fucking
makes me pour my vertical moisture all over his huge penis.

The
feeling of his penis pudding oozing down my throat got my sex wee flowing
quicker than a greased weasel shit. With his cunt stretcher fucking deep into
my municipal cockwash, the sensation of his veiny quim prod smashing my cervix
made me quiver like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. The seemingly
never-ending streams of penis pudding emanating from his wensleydale wand soon
had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The unrelenting orgasms from his
tenderloin truncheon pounding my ground zero grotto made me come so hard, I
began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. My mouth was so full of
slut slayer and creamy load, the love mayonnaise was dripping down my chin and
onto my breasticles. With my hairy goblet now much like Terry Waite's
allotment, he thought it was time to start probing my poop chute. Is now the
time to tell him I really need to roll a colon cobra, I wondered? Within no
time, I could feel the shitty man fat foaming from my soft tight anus and all
over my panty hamster. There was cock snot frothing from his bugger king and I
was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. The hammering makes
me gush my pussy batter all over his chorizo howitzer. Leaving my panties sunny
side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cheese-crusted cock
probed deeper into my rusty bullet hole. Now, I've seen more helmets than
Hitler, but the sight of his spam javelin made my fallopian fish stock ooze
like a jizz waterfall. He rolled a giant colon cobra on my cans just so he
could devour it up like a bulldog eating porridge. If I don't get a stinky
pinky to get my fallopian fish stock haemorrhaging from my herring hole, his
purple-headed trouser snake is going to leave my fishy flaps resembling a sand
blasted tomato. By now, my tuna canal was leaching like a hungry pig at a
trough. The plowing of my puckered brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his
wrecking balls joining his sperminator deep in my rusty sherif's badge. It was
bliss having his chubstep rammed inside me again; stuffing my ruby cave with my
fist just didn't get my municipal cockwash flowing like it used to. Hours of
pounding like this would leave any girl's purple cabbage looking like a dropped
burrito, and I was no different! When he removed his skeleton king from my
puckered 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 Mr. Hanky off
his piss pipe. After having my fuck gutter hammered, he then proceeded to pound
my poop chute. I can't wait to suck the cock snot from his chubstep. He munched
on my beef curtains, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a
week. My meat purse was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator.
Inserting a squash into my calamari cockring got me pouring minge monsoon
faster than snot off a whip. Some girls are happy just to buff the muff when
they're alone, but I can't get off without having a squash in my chamber of
squelch and a lightbulb up my fart valve. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget
and love piss in my puckered brown eye created the delicious porthole pudding
that he was so fond of.