The Dream's Thorn
Page 3
The fucking of my rusty sherif's badge was so vigorous, he soon found his family jewels joining his gristle missile deep in my black hole. My cake hole was so full of blue-veined custard chucker and creamy load, the steamin' semen was slobbering down my chin and onto my boobage. It was bliss having his muffbuster plunged inside me again; stuffing my kipper dinghy with an antique doorknob just didn't get my furry cup squirting like it used to. By now, my tampon tunnel was sliming like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. With his cunt plunger pounding deep into my split peach, the sensation of his turgid terror truncheon smashing my cervix made me quiver like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. When he removed his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus from my black hole, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the Mr. Hanky off his stilton sword. The feeling of his creamy load slobbering down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. Inserting a squash into my chlamydia canal got me spritzing sex wee faster than snot off a whip. I can't wait to consume the baby gravy from his stilton sword. There was man fat weeping from his love lollipop and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. The seemingly never-ending streams of love piss emanating from his chorizo howitzer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He munched on my panty hamster, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. I awoke the next morning with my one slice toaster still dribbling. I thought it was over but his mutton dagger had other ideas. The fucking makes me flow my shrimp sap all over his stilton sword. With my panty hamster now much like a bulldog licking piss from a thistle, he thought it was time to start plunging my old dirt road. Is now the time to tell him I really need to arc a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? He crowned a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my sweater puppies just so he could lap it up like a pig at a trough. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's vertical garden looking like a sand blasted tomato, and I was no different! Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his blind butler shoved deeper into my shit winker. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love piss sliming from my soft tight anus and all over my clap flaps. The unrelenting orgasms from his tallywacker thrusting my wizards sleeve made me come so hard, I began sweating like a fat slag in a disco. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my pussy batter flowing from my wunder down under, his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus is going to leave my vertical garden resembling a blind cobbler's thumb. My Quimcy, M.E. was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and cock snot in my marmite motorway created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his skeleton king made my pussy batter drip like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. After having my birth cannon thrusted, he then proceeded to hammer my ring piece.
With my panty hamster now much like a twisted slipper, he thought it was time to start sliding my brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to curl a toilet twinkie, I wondered? My mouth was so full of vein cane and Da Vinci load, the penis pudding was foaming down my chin and onto my fiery biscuits. The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his turgid terror truncheon soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. There was magician's wax sliming from his thrill drill and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's purple cabbage looking like a clown's pocket, and I was no different! After having my hot pocket thrusted, he then proceeded to fuck my poop chute. The hammering makes me pour my flange custard all over his stilton sword. With his stilton sword pounding deep into my split peach, the sensation of his bugger king smashing my cervix made me quiver like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. He arced a giant butt nugget on my mosquito bites just so he could devour it up like a pig at a trough. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his skin flute shoved deeper into my tradesman's entrance. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his piss pipe made my flange custard dribble like a broken coffee maker. Inserting a number of chillies into my gammon alley got me spattering minge monsoon faster than snot off a whip. Within no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding oozing from my poo pipe and all over my panty hamster. Some girls are happy just to tune the tuna when they're alone, but I can't get off without having my fist in my slime hole and my fist up my soft tight anus. It was bliss having his meaty member probed inside me again; stuffing my clunge pool with a barbie doll just didn't get my tampon tunnel squirting like it used to. By now, my chlamydia canal was weeping like a slug in a salt mine. If I don't strum the banjo to get my spaff foaming from my calamari cockring, his thrill drill is going to leave my roast beef platter resembling Pete Burns' lips. The feeling of his magician's wax haemorrhaging down my throat got my beige slime flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. The plowing of my balloon knot was so vigorous, he soon found his trouser conkors joining his chorizo howitzer deep in my rusty bullet hole. When he removed his one-eyed monster from my other vagina, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the toilet twinkie off his vein cane. The unrelenting orgasms from his disco stick fucking my Quimcy, M.E. made me come so hard, I began sweating like a dyslexic on Countdown. He munched on my beef curtains, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. My frilling pink golf bag was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. I awoke the next morning with my mound of love pudding still trickling. I thought it was over but his giggle stick had other ideas. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and cock snot in my mud flap created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of.
When he removed his balony pony from my brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the sewer trout off his kebeb skewer. The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I can't wait to gobble the Da Vinci load from his love lollipop. He munched on my furburger, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week. With his jade rod hammering deep into my fuck gutter, the sensation of his stilton spear smashing my cervix made me quiver like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. My clunge pool was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. The unrelenting orgasms from his batter blaster raiding my furry cup made me come so hard, I began sweating like a midget nun at a penguin shoot. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's panty hamster looking like badly battered road kill, and I was no different! The fucking makes me splurge my minge monsoon all over his veiny quim prod. After having my hatchet wound fucked, he then proceeded to pound my poop chute. I awoke the next morning with my split peach still flowing. I thought it was over but his vein cane had other ideas. The hammering of my balloon knot was so vigorous, he soon found his man berries joining his cunt plunger deep in my brown eye. My throat was so full of bald-headed yogurt slinger and creamy load, the steamin' semen was leaking down my chin and onto my tatas. By now, my bearded haddock pasty was foaming like a slavering dog. 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 front bum and a number of chillies up my balloon knot. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his love muscle made my minge monsoon drain like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. The feeling of his steamin' semen haemorrhaging down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love mayonnaise sliming from my soft tight anus and all over my lunchmeat. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my one slice toaster got me spattering vertical moisture faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. There was love mayonnaise haemorrhaging from his throbbing quim dagger and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. If I don't strum the banjo to get my be
ige slime trickling from my ruby cave, his jebend is going to leave my clap flaps resembling a werewolf with it's throat cut. He pinched off a giant sewer trout on my sweater puppies just so he could chow down on it up like a pig at a trough. It was bliss having his kebeb skewer shoved inside me again; stuffing my one slice toaster with an egg timer just didn't get my gashtray pouring like it used to. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and creamy load in my mud flap created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his love muscle slid deeper into my shit winker.
Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's vertical smile looking like a hippo's yawn, and I was no different! My one slice toaster was trembling like jelly. The pounding makes me flood my sex wee all over his purple-headed trouser snake. It was bliss having his jebend rammed inside me again; stuffing my vaginal bacon buffet with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my soft-shelled tuna taco surging like it used to. The seemingly never-ending streams of Da Vinci load emanating from his cream reaper soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cervix cigar rammed deeper into my ring piece. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my sperm socket got me spouting minge monsoon faster than snot off a whip. If I don't buff the muff to get my fallopian fish stock weeping from my clunge pool, his slut slayer is going to leave my vertical garden resembling a bulldog in a windtunnel. After having my chlamydia canal pounded, he then proceeded to fuck my old dirt road. I awoke the next morning with my gashtray still foaming. I thought it was over but his cumtree had other ideas. The feeling of his baby gravy sliming down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. Some girls are happy just to audition the finger puppets when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a gerbil in my ladytown and an egg timer up my poop chute. When he removed his chorizo howitzer from my turd-herder, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the corn-eyed butt snake off his turgid terror truncheon. By now, my oyster ditch was sliming like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. The fucking of my marmite motorway was so vigorous, he soon found his man berries joining his Ocean's 11 Inches deep in my Mavis Fritter. The unrelenting orgasms from his chubstep hammering my front bum made me come so hard, I began sweating like a white mouse in a tampon factory. The mixture of sewer trout and love mayonnaise in my tradesman's entrance created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. My mouth was so full of tenderloin truncheon and Da Vinci load, the Da Vinci load was slobbering down my chin and onto my tatas. There was gentleman's relish dripping from his Ocean's 11 Inches and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. With my beef curtains now much like that bathroom door in The Shining, he thought it was time to start plunging my fudge factory. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a toilet twinkie, I wondered? He pitched a giant toilet twinkie on my cans just so he could gobble it up like a hungry hungry hippo. He munched on my fishy flaps, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his blind butler made my minge mucus drain like a broken coffee maker. Within no time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm leaking from my poo pipe and all over my fishy flaps. I can't wait to chow down on the cock snot from his Ocean's 11 Inches.
The unrelenting orgasms from his washington monument hammering my penis pothole made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage. He munched on my velcro triangle, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. I awoke the next morning with my gaping clam cavern still frothing. I thought it was over but his cunt stretcher had other ideas. The feeling of his Da Vinci load leaching down my throat got my fallopian fish stock flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. With my flappy meal now much like a manatee in yoga pants, he thought it was time to start probing my poo pipe. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cut a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? Within no time, I could feel the shitty magician's wax leaching from my turd-herder and all over my flappy meal. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his giggle stick made my minge mucus flow like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. I can't wait to lap the magician's wax from his jebend. Inserting a squash into my gaping clam cavern got me flowing minge monsoon faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Some girls are happy just to dial the rotary phone when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a lightbulb in my clearing in the woods and my fist up my fudge factory. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his spunk-filled spam rocket slid deeper into my mud flap. With his ample cock pounding deep into my stench trench, the sensation of his turgid terror truncheon smashing my cervix made me quiver like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. When he removed his purple-headed trouser snake from my turd cutter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the butt nugget off his huge penis. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's open-faced ham sandwich looking like a clown's pocket, and I was no different! The hammering makes me squirt my beige slime all over his one-eyed milkman. There was magician's wax flowing from his greasy kebab skewer and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. The pounding of my Mavis Fritter was so vigorous, he soon found his hairy walnuts joining his washington monument deep in my chocolate starfish. If I don't play the clitar to get my fallopian fish stock weeping from my vibration station, his veiny quim prod is going to leave my hairy goblet resembling an over inflated dinghy. The mixture of sewer trout and penis pudding in my black hole created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his stilton spear soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My calamari cockring was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. He launched a giant sewer trout on my breasticles just so he could lap it up like a bulldog eating porridge. It was bliss having his pink tractor beam rammed inside me again; stuffing my spunk dungeon with a gerbil just didn't get my cum dumpster spraying like it used to. After having my enchilada of love fucked, he then proceeded to raid my puckered brown eye. My throat was so full of balony pony and man fat, the cock snot was dripping down my chin and onto my sweater puppies.
When he removed his giggle stick from my old dirt road, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the stink pickle off his stilton spear. After having my fuck gutter fucked, he then proceeded to slam my poo pipe. Inserting a lightbulb into my quim got me spouting minge mucus faster than snot off a whip. With his piss pipe slamming deep into my clunge pool, the sensation of his cheese-crusted cock smashing my cervix made me quiver like a shitting dog. My throat was so full of cumtree and baby gravy, the creamy load was trickling down my chin and onto my twin peaks. The plowing makes me gush my minge monsoon all over his meaty member. He blasted a giant toilet twinkie on my sweater puppies just so he could lap it up like a bulldog eating porridge. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his purple-headed trouser snake probed deeper into my shit winker. 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 chlamydia canal and an antique doorknob up my Oxo orifice. The mixture of colon cobra and cock custard in my brown eye created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. With my flappy meal now much like a bucket of smashed crabs, he thought it was time to start sliding my turd cutter. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock custard leaking from my turd-herder and all over my panty hamster. He munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. By now, my gashtray was draining like a lea
ky tap. The unrelenting orgasms from his pink tractor beam slamming my whispering eye made me come so hard, I began sweating like a whore in a confessional. I can't wait to lap the gentleman's relish from his spam dagger. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his womb ferret made my minge monsoon slime like a slavering dog. My shame portal was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. If I don't dial the rotary phone to get my sex wee dribbling from my calamari cockring, his thrill drill is going to leave my vertical smile resembling a ripped out fireplace. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his spunk-filled spam rocket soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. There was penis pudding oozing from his chubstep and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. The feeling of his ectoplasm slobbering down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than snot off a whip. I awoke the next morning with my vaginal bacon buffet still foaming. I thought it was over but his tenderloin truncheon had other ideas. It was bliss having his skin flute rammed inside me again; stuffing my one slice toaster with a lightbulb just didn't get my hatchet wound flowing like it used to. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's furburger looking like Brian May's plughole, and I was no different!