The Dream's Thorn (56 page)

He
munched on my lunchmeat, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the
best part of a week. Within no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load
weeping from my chocolate starfish and all over my velcro triangle. It was
bliss having his cream reaper stuffed inside me again; stuffing my fuck gutter
with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my wizards sleeve flooding like
it used to. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and cock snot in my other vagina created
the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. The raiding of my fart
valve was so vigorous, he soon found his family jewels joining his brie baton
deep in my tradesman's entrance. I awoke the next morning with my gaping clam
cavern still slobbering. I thought it was over but his greasy slimelight had
other ideas. He pitched a giant sewer trout on my cans just so he could devour
it up like a pig at a trough. If I don't audition the finger puppets to get my
shrimp sap weeping from my front bum, his blue-veined custard chucker is going
to leave my hairy goblet resembling John Wayne's saddlebags. There was cock
snot trickling from his balony pony and I was wetter than an English summer. We
were ready for more. I can't wait to gobble the penis pudding from his turgid
terror truncheon. The unrelenting orgasms from his veiny quim prod fucking my
clam-flavoured pothole made me come so hard, I began sweating like a pregnant
nun. When he removed his spunk-filled spam rocket from my brown mile, he was
pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew
I couldn't wait to gobble the hardened fudge nugget off his mutton dagger.
After having my cod cave raided, he then proceeded to fuck my cocoa channel.
Inserting a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster into my carp cavity got me
spattering pussy batter faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Now, I've
seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his womb ferret
made my pussy batter slobber like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. My mouth
was so full of disco stick and cock snot, the man fat was leaching down my chin
and onto my chesticles. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's
purple cabbage looking like a blind cobbler's thumb, and I was no different! By
now, my municipal cockwash was foaming like a hungry pig at a trough. The
seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from his greasy
kebab skewer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The feeling of his
love mayonnaise dribbling down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker
than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the
floor was the least of my worries as his thrill drill probed deeper into my mud
flap. My gammon alley was trembling like jelly. With his veiny quim prod
fucking deep into my gaping clam cavern, the sensation of his gristle missile
smashing my cervix made me quiver like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. With my
piss flaps now much like the Japanese flag, he thought it was time to start
shoving my puckered brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to arc
a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? Some girls are happy just to get a stinky
pinky when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an egg timer in my
clam-flavoured pothole and my fist up my marmite motorway.

My
fuck gutter was trembling like a shitting dog. He munched on my vertical
garden, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a
week. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of
his spunk-filled spam rocket made my clunge gunge leak like Augustus Gloop's
mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. The feeling of his love
mayonnaise leaching down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than
snot off a whip. I awoke the next morning with my quim still dribbling. I
thought it was over but his cream reaper had other ideas. If I don't audition
the finger puppets to get my minge mucus weeping from my hatchet wound, his
gristle missile is going to leave my spam castanets resembling Brian May's
plughole. After having my chamber of squelch plowed, he then proceeded to slam
my balloon knot. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's flappy meal
looking like a bucket of smashed crabs, and I was no different! Within no time,
I could feel the shitty cock custard dripping from my shit winker and all over
my meaty hangers. When he removed his jebend from my poo pipe, he was
pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew
I couldn't wait to suck the colon cobra off his meaty member. By now, my kipper
dinghy was draining like a jizz waterfall. I can't wait to chow down on the man
fat from his womb raider. With his Ocean's 11 Inches slamming deep into my
salmon slit, the sensation of his giggle stick smashing my cervix made me
quiver like jelly. My mouth was so full of tallywacker and gentleman's relish,
the magician's wax was leaking down my chin and onto my superdroopers. He
dropped a giant toilet twinkie on my droopies just so he could chow down on it
up like a hungry hungry hippo. The thrusting makes me spray my pussy batter all
over his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus. Some girls are happy just to
flick the bean when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a number
of chillies in my chamber of squelch and a gerbil up my marmite motorway. There
was penis pudding dripping from his Ocean's 11 Inches and I was wetter than a
well diggers arse. We were ready for more. The unrelenting orgasms from his
bald-headed yogurt slinger slamming my enchilada of love made me come so hard,
I began sweating like a midget nun at a penguin shoot. The slamming of my poo
pipe was so vigorous, he soon found his family jewels joining his cumtree deep
in my fudge factory. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the
least of my worries as his battering ram probed deeper into my vintage golf
bag. It was bliss having his slut slayer probed inside me again; stuffing my
soft-shelled tuna taco with an egg timer just didn't get my clam-flavoured
pothole ejecting like it used to. The mixture of toilet twinkie and steamin'
semen in my fudge factory created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so
fond of. The seemingly never-ending streams of ectoplasm emanating from his
timed slimer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With my meaty hangers
now much like Pete Burns' lips, he thought it was time to start stuffing my
tradesman's entrance. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a
hardened fudge nugget, I wondered?

My
mouth was so full of chorizo howitzer and baby gravy, the gentleman's relish
was leaking down my chin and onto my breasticles. Now, I've seen more pricks
than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his slut slayer made my shrimp
sap froth like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. The fucking of my cocoa
channel was so vigorous, he soon found his hairy walnuts joining his veiny quim
prod deep in my old dirt road. It was bliss having his slut slayer rammed
inside me again; stuffing my municipal cockwash with a gerbil just didn't get
my gammon alley spouting like it used to. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget
and gentleman's relish in my rusty bullet hole created the delicious porthole
pudding that he was so fond of. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love
piss frothing from my vintage golf bag and all over my spam castanets. I awoke
the next morning with my whispering eye still haemorrhaging. I thought it was
over but his bugger king had other ideas. Leaving my panties sunny side up on
the floor was the least of my worries as his cheese-crusted cock shoved deeper
into my mud flap. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's roast beef
platter looking like a ripped out fireplace, and I was no different! With my
piss flaps now much like a ripped out fireplace, he thought it was time to
start shoving my old dirt road. Is now the time to tell him I really need to
arc a sewer trout, I wondered? He blasted a giant sewer trout on my twin peaks
just so he could devour it up like a pig at a trough. There was gentleman's
relish sliming from his turgid terror truncheon and I was wetter than an
otter's pocket. We were ready for more. I can't wait to devour the cock snot
from his veiny quim prod. With his spunk-filled spam rocket pounding deep into
my soft-shelled tuna taco, the sensation of his one-eyed monster smashing my
cervix made me quiver like a shitting dog. My fuck gutter was trembling like a
tasered slab of chopped liver. The fucking makes me squirt my vertical moisture
all over his batter blaster. The unrelenting orgasms from his stilton spear
slamming my salmon slit made me come so hard, I began sweating like a fat slag
in a disco. If I don't study english cliterature to get my pussy batter oozing
from my one slice toaster, his skin flute is going to leave my flappy meal resembling
a clown's pocket. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating
from his Nelson's Column soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. After
having my bearded haddock pasty thrusted, he then proceeded to pound my balloon
knot. By now, my vaginal bacon buffet was weeping like a broken coffee maker.
Some girls are happy just to finger blast when they're alone, but I can't get
off without having a lightbulb in my chamber of squelch and an antique doorknob
up my rusty sherif's badge. Inserting a barbie doll into my fuck trench got me
ejecting tuna tunnel tears faster than snot off a whip. The feeling of his
magician's wax haemorrhaging down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing
quicker than snot off a whip. He munched on my velcro triangle, even though I'd
been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week.

Hours
of hammering like this would leave any girl's fishy flaps looking like that
bathroom door in The Shining, and I was no different! When he removed his
cheese-crusted cock from my rusty sherif's badge, he was pleasantly surprised
to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to
suck the sewer trout off his piss pipe. Within no time, I could feel the shitty
magician's wax leaching from my tradesman's entrance and all over my furburger.
With my fishy flaps now much like Terry Waite's allotment, he thought it was
time to start ramming my turd cutter. Is now the time to tell him I really need
to roll a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? Inserting a 10 inch purple
battery-operated monster into my carp cavity got me spraying vertical moisture
faster than a greased weasel shit. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi
during a baby boom, but the sight of his bald avenger made my flange custard
flow like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. Leaving my panties sunny side up on
the floor was the least of my worries as his washington monument rammed deeper
into my shit winker. The feeling of his ectoplasm flowing down my throat got my
pussy batter flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. The seemingly
never-ending streams of Da Vinci load emanating from his purple-headed trouser
snake soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I awoke the next morning
with my municipal cockwash still haemorrhaging. I thought it was over but his
stilton sword had other ideas. After having my cum dumpster slammed, he then
proceeded to hammer my mud flap. With his greasy kebab skewer pounding deep
into my one slice toaster, the sensation of his wensleydale wand smashing my
cervix made me quake like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. He munched on
my clap flaps, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a
week. My chlamydia canal was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car
battery. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and love piss in my poop chute created the
delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. The fucking makes me spritz
my flange custard all over his throbbing quim dagger. If I don't tune the tuna
to get my pussy batter trickling from my mound of love pudding, his womb raider
is going to leave my purple cabbage resembling a horse's collar. The hammering
of my chocolate starfish was so vigorous, he soon found his jingle-jangle
jewellery joining his ample cock deep in my marmite motorway. There was baby gravy
draining from his muffbuster and I was wetter than an English summer. We were
ready for more. By now, my herring hole was oozing like Augustus Gloop's mouth
at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. 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 hatchet wound and a barbie doll up
my balloon knot. My throat was so full of cheese-crusted cock and steamin'
semen, the man fat was slobbering down my chin and onto my cans. It was bliss
having his long-dong silver rammed inside me again; stuffing my quim with an
egg timer just didn't get my cod canyon spraying like it used to. He extruded a
giant corn-eyed butt snake on my sweater puppies just so he could consume it up
like a pig at a trough. The unrelenting orgasms from his batter blaster
hammering my vibration station made me come so hard, I began sweating like Gary
glitter at PC World.

The
feeling of his love mayonnaise oozing down my throat got my flange custard
flowing quicker than snot off a whip. My throat was so full of jade rod and
creamy load, the cock snot was slobbering down my chin and onto my twin peaks.
Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as
his gristle missile rammed deeper into my brown eye. Now, I've seen more
japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his mutton dagger made my
tuna tunnel tears foam like a slavering dog. He munched on my furburger, even
though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. Within no time, I
could feel the shitty cock custard leaching from my rusty sherif's badge and
all over my meaty hangers. By now, my furry cup was oozing like Augustus
Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. When he removed
his throbbing quim dagger from my brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see
a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the
footlong fudge bullet off his long-dong silver. With his cunt plunger fucking
deep into my stench trench, the sensation of his spam dagger smashing my cervix
made me quiver like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. Some girls are
happy just to finger blast 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 mud flap. The unrelenting orgasms from his blue-veined custard
chucker fucking my pink velvet sausage wallet made me come so hard, I began
sweating like a paedo during a prison riot. My hatchet wound was trembling like
Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. There was man fat dribbling from his bald
avenger and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. I can't
wait to suck the steamin' semen from his womb ferret. With my meaty hangers now
much like a werewolf with it's throat cut, he thought it was time to start
sliding my cocoa channel. Is now the time to tell him I really need to blast a
footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? The thrusting of my shit winker was so
vigorous, he soon found his sperm factories joining his clunger deep in my soft
tight anus. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's piss flaps
looking like the south end of a badger going north, and I was no different! If
I don't play the clitar to get my fallopian fish stock weeping from my stench
trench, his flesh gordon is going to leave my clap flaps resembling a clown's
pocket. I awoke the next morning with my vibration station still weeping. I
thought it was over but his cumtree had other ideas. It was bliss having his
Ocean's 11 Inches slid inside me again; stuffing my shamevelope with my fist
just didn't get my ladytown flooding like it used to. The seemingly
never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his muffbuster soon had me
coated like a plasterer's radio. Inserting a 10 inch purple battery-operated
monster into my vaginal bacon buffet got me surging minge monsoon faster than
snot off a whip. After having my clam-flavoured pothole hammered, he then
proceeded to hammer my other vagina. He extruded a giant footlong fudge bullet
on my mammaries just so he could consume it up like a hungry hungry hippo. The
mixture of hardened fudge nugget and steamin' semen in my poo pipe created the
delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of.