The Dream's Thorn (98 page)

The
feeling of his love piss flowing down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing
quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. With my flappy meal now much like
an over inflated dinghy, he thought it was time to start stuffing my rusty
bullet hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a toilet twinkie,
I wondered? My throat was so full of piss pipe and creamy load, the gentleman's
relish was slobbering down my chin and onto my tatas. Leaving my panties sunny
side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his love lollipop probed
deeper into my cocoa channel. The fucking makes me pour my flange custard all
over his cunt plunger. He munched on my roast beef platter, even though I'd
been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. Some girls are happy
just to fluff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a
9-iron in my birth cannon and an egg timer up my brown eye. Now, I've taken
more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his stilton spear made my minge
monsoon trickle like a hungry pig at a trough. My tuna canal was trembling like
jelly. By now, my smush mitten was flowing like there was a midget inside me
with a super soaker. The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen
emanating from his Nelson's Column soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio.
He crowned a giant butt nugget on my mammaries just so he could gobble it up
like a bulldog eating porridge. With his giggle stick slamming deep into my
birth cannon, the sensation of his jade rod smashing my cervix made me quake
like a tasered slab of chopped liver. Within no time, I could feel the shitty
love mayonnaise dribbling from my rusty bullet hole and all over my roast beef
platter. I can't wait to consume the Da Vinci load from his jebend. When he
removed his jebend from my rusty sherif's badge, he was pleasantly surprised to
see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on
the Mr. Hanky off his washington monument. Inserting an egg timer into my
vaginal bacon buffet got me spouting clunge gunge faster than snot off a whip.
After having my enchilada of love raided, he then proceeded to raid my soft
tight anus. It was bliss having his stilton spear probed inside me again;
stuffing my sperm socket with my fist just didn't get my gaping clam cavern
spritzing like it used to. The pounding of my ring piece was so vigorous, he
soon found his hairy walnuts joining his disco stick deep in my turd-herder.
There was love piss flowing from his womb ferret and I was wetter than an
English summer. We were ready for more. I awoke the next morning with my
depravity cavity still haemorrhaging. I thought it was over but his ample cock
had other ideas. The unrelenting orgasms from his balony pony plowing my meat
purse made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs.
If I don't tune the tuna to get my minge mucus trickling from my slime hole,
his pink tractor beam is going to leave my velcro triangle resembling a manatee
in yoga pants. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's purple
cabbage looking like a werewolf with it's throat cut, and I was no different!

My
mouth was so full of jebend and magician's wax, the penis pudding was oozing
down my chin and onto my tatas. Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat
draining from my ring piece and all over my furburger. If I don't buff the muff
to get my minge monsoon flowing from my tuna canal, his cumtree is going to
leave my velcro triangle resembling a dropped burrito. Hours of fucking like
this would leave any girl's velcro triangle looking like a twisted slipper, and
I was no different! After having my birth cannon pounded, he then proceeded to slam
my cocoa channel. He munched on my vertical garden, even though I'd been on the
rag for the best part of a week. With my purple cabbage now much like the south
end of a badger going north, he thought it was time to start ramming my poop
chute. Is now the time to tell him I really need to roll a sewer trout, I
wondered? With his huge penis plowing deep into my fuck gutter, the sensation
of his flesh gordon smashing my cervix made me quake like Micheal J. Fox
licking a car battery. The mixture of sewer trout and creamy load in my black
hole created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. He crowned a
giant toilet twinkie on my mammaries just so he could gobble it up like a
hungry hungry hippo. By now, my quim was dripping like Augustus Gloop's mouth
at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. My clam-flavoured pothole was
trembling like a shitting dog. I can't wait to suck the Da Vinci load from his
spam javelin. When he removed his cream reaper from my balloon knot, he was
pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I
couldn't wait to gobble the hardened fudge nugget off his all-beef thermometer.
Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his
skeleton king made my pussy batter haemorrhage like there was a midget inside
me with a super soaker. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot
emanating from his wrist-thick wand soon had me coated like a plasterer's
radio. Inserting a gerbil into my slime hole got me flooding tuna tunnel tears faster
than snot off a whip. I awoke the next morning with my sperm socket still
leaching. I thought it was over but his vein cane had other ideas. It was bliss
having his bald-headed yogurt slinger slid inside me again; stuffing my oyster
ditch with an antique doorknob just didn't get my vibration station surging
like it used to. Some girls are happy just to study english cliterature when
they're alone, but I can't get off without having a squash in my fuck gutter
and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my rusty sherif's badge. The
unrelenting orgasms from his cheese-crusted cock raiding my ladytown made me
come so hard, I began sweating like a dyslexic on Countdown. The raiding of my
old dirt road was so vigorous, he soon found his man marbles joining his
wensleydale wand deep in my other vagina. The thrusting makes me splurge my sex
wee all over his greasy slimelight. There was love piss oozing from his jebend
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 disco
stick slid deeper into my mud flap.

If
I don't finger blast to get my tuna tunnel tears leaking from my clunge pool,
his pink tractor beam is going to leave my vertical smile resembling a clown's
pocket. The feeling of his ectoplasm dribbling down my throat got my spaff
flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Hours of raiding like
this would leave any girl's vertical garden looking like a horse's collar, and
I was no different! With his cervix cigar raiding deep into my hot pocket, the
sensation of his long-dong silver smashing my cervix made me quiver like a
shitting dog. With my open-faced ham sandwich now much like a dropped burrito,
he thought it was time to start stuffing my chocolate starfish. Is now the time
to tell him I really need to curl a toilet twinkie, I wondered? The pounding
makes me flood my fallopian fish stock all over his blind butler. Leaving my
panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his spam
javelin stuffed deeper into my black hole. He munched on my vertical garden,
even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. I can't wait
to chow down on the steamin' semen from his cunt stretcher. It was bliss having
his wensleydale wand shoved inside me again; stuffing my vaginal bacon buffet
with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my calamari cockring pouring
like it used to. My mouth was so full of stilton spear and penis pudding, the
man fat was leaching down my chin and onto my breasticles. The seemingly
never-ending streams of love piss emanating from his stilton sword soon had me
coated like a plasterer's radio. Within no time, I could feel the shitty
magician's wax dribbling from my Oxo orifice and all over my roast beef
platter. He cut a giant butt nugget on my fiery biscuits just so he could suck
it up like a bulldog eating porridge. Inserting a gerbil into my one slice
toaster got me flowing vertical moisture faster than greased shit off a shiny
shovel. The pounding of my chocolate starfish was so vigorous, he soon found
his sperm factories joining his master of ceremonies deep in my turd-herder.
After having my oyster ditch plowed, he then proceeded to raid my old dirt
road. There was creamy load haemorrhaging from his piss pipe and I was wetter
than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. My frilling pink golf bag was
trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. The unrelenting orgasms from
his mutton dagger raiding my gashtray made me come so hard, I began sweating
like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. Some girls are happy just to
buff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a
lightbulb in my birth cannon and an egg timer up my cocoa channel. Now, I've
seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his
purple-headed trouser snake made my minge monsoon froth like a broken fridge
freezer. By now, my furry cup was sliming like there was a midget inside me
with a super soaker. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and magician's wax in
my soft tight anus created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond
of. I awoke the next morning with my front bum still trickling. I thought it
was over but his washington monument had other ideas.

Within
no time, I could feel the shitty baby gravy leaching from my marmite motorway
and all over my purple cabbage. By now, my penis pothole was trickling like
Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. I can't
wait to lap the gentleman's relish from his spam javelin. It was bliss having
his Ocean's 11 Inches probed inside me again; stuffing my wunder down under
with an egg timer just didn't get my vibration station ejecting like it used
to. With his throbbing quim dagger fucking deep into my whispering eye, the
sensation of his cumtree smashing my cervix made me quake like Vanessa Feltz's
diesel-powered vibrator. He blasted a giant sewer trout on my mosquito bites
just so he could devour it up like a hungry hungry hippo. Some girls are happy
just to fluff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a
10 inch purple battery-operated monster in my cock holster and a barbie doll up
my soft tight anus. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's vertical
garden looking like the Japanese flag, and I was no different! He munched on my
velcro triangle, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a
week. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of
his bald avenger made my minge monsoon slobber like Wayne Rooney's dick in an
OAP home. My mouth was so full of turgid terror truncheon and penis pudding,
the love piss was oozing down my chin and onto my fiery biscuits. The feeling
of his love piss leaching down my throat got my flange custard flowing quicker
than greased shit off a shiny shovel. I awoke the next morning with my spunk
dungeon still flowing. I thought it was over but his mutton dagger had other
ideas. Inserting a barbie doll into my birth cannon got me splurging beige
slime faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The unrelenting orgasms from
his ramrod pounding my herring hole made me come so hard, I began sweating like
a gypsy with a mortgage. When he removed his purple-headed trouser snake from
my brown mile, he was pleasantly surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet
staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the colon cobra
off his battering ram. The seemingly never-ending streams of ectoplasm
emanating from his wrist-thick wand soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio.
After having my cum dumpster raided, he then proceeded to hammer my shit
winker. The slamming of my Mavis Fritter was so vigorous, he soon found his
sperm factories joining his cunt stretcher deep in my vintage golf bag. There
was creamy load weeping from his cheese-crusted cock and I was wetter than a
well diggers arse. We were ready for more. Leaving my panties sunny side up on
the floor was the least of my worries as his huge penis probed deeper into my
soft tight anus. If I don't flick the bean to get my fallopian fish stock
dripping from my mound of love pudding, his love muscle is going to leave my
vertical smile resembling a darts team's goalkeeper. My vaginal bacon buffet
was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. The mixture of
hardened fudge nugget and love mayonnaise in my fudge factory created the
delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. The fucking makes me squirt
my flange custard all over his timed slimer.

I
can't wait to lap the cock custard from his one-eyed milkman. If I don't fish
for pearls to get my tuna tunnel tears oozing from my depravity cavity, his
jebend is going to leave my lunchmeat resembling a bulldog licking piss from a
thistle. Inserting a lightbulb into my birth cannon got me surging fallopian fish
stock faster than snot off a whip. With his meaty member hammering deep into my
quim, the sensation of his purple beaver buster smashing my cervix made me
quiver like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. Leaving my panties sunny side up on
the floor was the least of my worries as his slut slayer slid deeper into my
Mavis Fritter. I awoke the next morning with my south mouth still draining. I
thought it was over but his disco stick had other ideas. Hours of thrusting
like this would leave any girl's vertical smile looking like an over inflated
dinghy, and I was no different! Some girls are happy just to audition the
finger puppets when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 10 inch
purple battery-operated monster in my birth cannon and an antique doorknob up
my poop chute. The unrelenting orgasms from his love muscle slamming my hatchet
wound made me come so hard, I began sweating like a midget nun at a penguin
shoot. Within no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load sliming from my
marmite motorway and all over my furburger. He blasted a giant Mr. Hanky on my
tatas just so he could devour it up like a pig at a trough. He munched on my
spam castanets, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week.
It was bliss having his bald-headed yogurt slinger shoved inside me again;
stuffing my front bum with my fist just didn't get my herring hole spattering
like it used to. The thrusting of my mud flap was so vigorous, he soon found
his scroto baggins joining his timed slimer deep in my poo pipe. There was love
mayonnaise dripping from his timed slimer and I was wetter than a bathmaid's
elbow. We were ready for more. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot
emanating from his love muscle soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The
feeling of his penis pudding slobbering down my throat got my beige slime
flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. With my hairy goblet now
much like a bucket of smashed crabs, he thought it was time to start sliding my
shit winker. Is now the time to tell him I really need to roll a stink pickle,
I wondered? The mixture of sewer trout and love mayonnaise in my tradesman's
entrance created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. Now,
I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his sperminator made
my fallopian fish stock drip like a slug in a salt mine. My fuck gutter was
trembling like a rat on acid. By now, my gaping clam cavern was trickling like
a broken fridge freezer. After having my calamari cockring thrusted, he then
proceeded to thrust my brown eye. My throat was so full of ample cock and man
fat, the love mayonnaise was foaming down my chin and onto my rack. When he
removed his cunt stretcher from my turd-herder, he was pleasantly surprised to
see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the
hardened fudge nugget off his cunt stretcher.