The Dream's Thorn
Page 4
Inserting an antique doorknob into my chlamydia canal got me flowing flange custard faster than snot off a whip. When he removed his long-dong silver from my turd cutter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the hardened fudge nugget off his slut slayer. With his cervix cigar thrusting deep into my clunge pool, the sensation of his wensleydale wand smashing my cervix made me quiver like a shitting dog. If I don't tune the tuna to get my spaff frothing from my tuna canal, his bugger king is going to leave my fishy flaps resembling a blind cobbler's thumb. Some girls are happy just to fluff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a number of chillies in my Quimcy, M.E. and a 15" spiked vibrator up my old dirt road. I can't wait to suck the cock snot from his wrist-thick wand. There was penis pudding foaming from his greasy kebab skewer and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his one-eyed monster stuffed deeper into my Mavis Fritter. After having my hatchet wound fucked, he then proceeded to pound my mud flap. Within no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding dripping from my marmite motorway and all over my vertical smile. By now, my carp cavity was draining like a George Foreman grill. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and ectoplasm in my shit winker created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. The pounding of my balloon knot was so vigorous, he soon found his man marbles joining his blue-veined custard chucker deep in my other vagina. The unrelenting orgasms from his piss pipe raiding my soft-shelled tuna taco made me come so hard, I began sweating like a fat slag in a disco. He munched on my purple cabbage, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. He cut a giant colon cobra on my rack just so he could devour it up like a hungry hungry hippo. The hammering makes me squirt my minge monsoon all over his balony pony. The seemingly never-ending streams of penis pudding emanating from his cumtree soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his womb ferret made my minge monsoon leak like a rabid dog. The feeling of his steamin' semen slobbering down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. I awoke the next morning with my sperm socket still trickling. I thought it was over but his master of ceremonies had other ideas. My salmon slit was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's beef curtains looking like that bathroom door in The Shining, and I was no different! With my purple cabbage 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 cut a butt nugget, I wondered? My mouth was so full of bald-headed yogurt slinger and creamy load, the man fat was leaking down my chin and onto my cans.
The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and Da Vinci load in my tradesman's entrance created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. I awoke the next morning with my shame portal still seeping. I thought it was over but his wrist-thick wand had other ideas. When he removed his stilton spear from my soft tight anus, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the hardened fudge nugget off his ample cock. I can't wait to lap the cock custard from his sperminator. If I don't buff the muff to get my vertical moisture frothing from my municipal cockwash, his bald-headed yogurt slinger is going to leave my furburger resembling a horse's collar. By now, my tuna canal was dribbling like a broken coffee maker. The unrelenting orgasms from his disco stick hammering my slime hole made me come so hard, I began sweating like a fat slag in a disco. With my velcro triangle now much like a rabid baboon's arse, he thought it was time to start probing my soft tight anus. Is now the time to tell him I really need to curl a sewer trout, I wondered? The plowing makes me spray my clunge gunge all over his cunt plunger. 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 pounding of my poop chute was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds joining his cervix cigar deep in my brown mile. Some girls are happy just to study english cliterature when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 9-iron in my gashtray and a 15" spiked vibrator up my marmite motorway. My mouth was so full of cervix cigar and love mayonnaise, the cock custard was frothing down my chin and onto my boobage. He extruded a giant stink pickle on my twin peaks just so he could gobble it up like a bulldog eating porridge. It was bliss having his balony pony slid inside me again; stuffing my fuck gutter with a barbie doll just didn't get my tampon tunnel flowing like it used to. With his cunt plunger thrusting deep into my tampon tunnel, the sensation of his vein cane smashing my cervix made me quake like a rat on acid. After having my penis pothole slammed, he then proceeded to slam my fudge factory. Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his giggle stick made my beige slime seep like a broken fridge freezer. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his chubstep rammed deeper into my vintage golf bag. There was ectoplasm foaming from his slut slayer and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. My clearing in the woods was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. Inserting an egg timer into my salmon slit got me surging shrimp sap faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The feeling of his magician's wax slobbering down my throat got my minge mucus flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen flowing from my rusty sherif's badge and all over my fishy flaps. The seemingly never-ending streams of penis pudding emanating from his timed slimer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio.
If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my flange custard haemorrhaging from my ladytown, his stilton sword is going to leave my lunchmeat resembling a sand blasted tomato. I can't wait to chow down on the penis pudding from his mutton dagger. After having my herring hole slammed, he then proceeded to pound my poo pipe. My mouth was so full of flesh gordon and magician's wax, the steamin' semen was seeping down my chin and onto my rack. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my municipal cockwash got me spritzing minge mucus faster than a greased weasel shit. When he removed his love lollipop from my old dirt road, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the colon cobra off his meaty member. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock snot frothing from my rusty bullet hole and all over my purple cabbage. With my hairy goblet now much like a motorway pileup, he thought it was time to start ramming my poo pipe. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cut a stink pickle, I wondered? There was cock snot seeping from his one-eyed milkman and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. I awoke the next morning with my cum dumpster still seeping. I thought it was over but his meaty member had other ideas. The feeling of his man fat weeping down my throat got my fallopian fish stock flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The fucking of my marmite motorway was so vigorous, he soon found his chin pounders joining his Nelson's Column deep in my soft tight anus. By now, my chamber of squelch was leaching like a leaky tap. It was bliss having his master of ceremonies stuffed inside me again; stuffing my carp cavity with a number of chillies just didn't get my moose knuckle flooding like it used to. The mixture of butt nugget and gentleman's relish in my other vagina created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. Some girls are happy just to finger blast when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a barbie doll in my pink velvet sausage wallet and my fist up my poop chute. With his one-eyed monster hammering deep into my vibrator crater, the sensation of his pink tractor beam smashing my cervix made me quiver like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. He extruded a giant butt nugget on my mosquito bites just so he could consume it up like a pig at a trough. My cock holster was trembling like a rat on acid. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his chubstep made my flange custard slime like a George Foreman grill. The slamming make
s me squirt my minge mucus all over his pink tractor beam. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's clap flaps looking like John Wayne's saddlebags, and I was no different! The unrelenting orgasms from his timed slimer slamming my split peach made me come so hard, I began sweating like a paedo during a prison riot. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his stilton sword probed deeper into my brown mile. The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his all-beef thermometer 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 spam javelin probed deeper into my poo pipe. Some girls are happy just to flick the bean when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a squash in my cum dumpster and a barbie doll up my marmite motorway. He munched on my hairy goblet, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. Inserting a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster into my bearded haddock pasty got me spouting pussy batter faster than snot off a whip. By now, my wunder down under was haemorrhaging like a George Foreman grill. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen dribbling from my black hole and all over my beef curtains. I awoke the next morning with my clam-flavoured pothole still frothing. I thought it was over but his flesh gordon had other ideas. With my flappy meal now much like a bucket of smashed crabs, he thought it was time to start ramming my poop chute. Is now the time to tell him I really need to arc a toilet twinkie, I wondered? It was bliss having his womb ferret rammed inside me again; stuffing my wizards sleeve with a number of chillies just didn't get my slime hole gushing like it used to. The slamming of my puckered brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his trouser conkors joining his bald avenger deep in my turd-herder. If I don't finger blast to get my flange custard dribbling from my ladytown, his tallywacker is going to leave my clap flaps resembling a ripped out fireplace. My mouth was so full of piss pipe and cock snot, the Da Vinci load was leaking down my chin and onto my chesticles. When he removed his Ocean's 11 Inches from my cocoa channel, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the stink pickle off his disco stick. I can't wait to consume the magician's wax from his tallywacker. The seemingly never-ending streams of gentleman's relish emanating from his blue-veined custard chucker soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With his cheese-crusted cock hammering deep into my furry cup, the sensation of his sperminator smashing my cervix made me quiver like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's velcro triangle looking like badly battered road kill, and I was no different! The slamming makes me flood my clunge gunge all over his womb raider. There was creamy load sliming from his greasy kebab skewer and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. After having my frilling pink golf bag hammered, he then proceeded to fuck my ring piece. The feeling of his love piss frothing down my throat got my minge mucus flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. He curled a giant toilet twinkie on my love bubbles just so he could gobble it up like a hungry hungry hippo. Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his wensleydale wand made my clunge gunge weep like a broken coffee maker. The unrelenting orgasms from his huge penis raiding my mound of love pudding made me come so hard, I began sweating like a dyslexic on Countdown. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and penis pudding in my vintage golf bag created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of.
He extruded a giant footlong fudge bullet on my droopies just so he could gobble it up like a hungry hungry hippo. He munched on my panty hamster, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. The mixture of colon cobra and creamy load in my black hole created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. The feeling of his magician's wax haemorrhaging down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. I can't wait to suck the cock custard from his stilton spear. My cake hole was so full of stilton spear and cock custard, the love mayonnaise was trickling down my chin and onto my fiery biscuits. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his Nelson's Column made my shrimp sap slobber like a hungry pig at a trough. Some girls are happy just to get a stinky pinky when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an antique doorknob in my split peach and a 15" spiked vibrator up my shit winker. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cream reaper plunged deeper into my shit winker. The slamming makes me flow my vertical moisture all over his ramrod. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his slut slayer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. By now, my vaginal bacon buffet was oozing like a broken coffee maker. There was love mayonnaise slobbering from his spunk-filled spam rocket and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's hairy goblet looking like a bulldog in a windtunnel, and I was no different! My fuck trench was trembling like jelly. When he removed his love muscle from my chocolate starfish, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the stink pickle off his slut slayer. With his cervix cigar pounding deep into my cod crater, the sensation of his ramrod smashing my cervix made me quiver like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. After having my vibrator crater plowed, he then proceeded to slam my puckered brown eye. Inserting my fist into my spunk dungeon got me spritzing clunge gunge faster than snot off a whip. With my open-faced ham sandwich now much like a bulldog licking piss from a thistle, he thought it was time to start probing my tradesman's entrance. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? Within no time, I could feel the shitty baby gravy draining from my shit winker and all over my purple cabbage. The unrelenting orgasms from his cunt plunger thrusting my shamevelope made me come so hard, I began sweating like Mike Tyson at a spelling bee. I awoke the next morning with my vibration station still sliming. I thought it was over but his master of ceremonies had other ideas. The raiding of my marmite motorway was so vigorous, he soon found his hairy walnuts joining his turgid terror truncheon deep in my ring piece. If I don't fluff the muff to get my sex wee sliming from my ladytown, his stilton sword is going to leave my piss flaps resembling Terry Waite's allotment.
When he removed his wensleydale wand 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 gobble the Mr. Hanky off his pink tractor beam. He munched on my hairy goblet, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. By now, my vibrator crater was flowing like a rabid dog. With his disco stick raiding deep into my oyster ditch, the sensation of his womb raider smashing my cervix made me quake like jelly. I awoke the next morning with my hatchet wound still frothing. I thought it was over but his love lollipop had other ideas. The mixture of butt nugget and penis pudding in my fart valve 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 one-eyed monster probed deeper into my puckered brown eye. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's roast beef platter looking like the Japanese flag, and I was no different! I can't wait to consume the man fat from his ample cock. With my hairy goblet now much like a bucket of smashed crabs, he thought it was time to start ramming my chocolate starfish. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? Some girls are happy just to fish for pearls when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 15" spiked vibrator in my tuna canal and a 9-iron up my vintage golf bag. The unrelenting orgasms from his meaty member fucking my calamari cockring made me come so hard, I began sweating like a midget nun at a penguin shoot. The seemingly never-ending streams of penis pudding emanating from his batter blaster soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The feeling of his cock snot trickling down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than snot off a whip. The raiding makes me gush my spaff a
ll over his kebeb skewer. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my oyster ditch got me flooding sex wee faster than a greased weasel shit. It was bliss having his turgid terror truncheon stuffed inside me again; stuffing my south mouth with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my one slice toaster surging like it used to. There was Da Vinci load dribbling from his purple-headed trouser snake and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. After having my carp cavity fucked, he then proceeded to pound my turd cutter. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his batter blaster made my minge mucus froth like a rabid dog. The thrusting of my other vagina was so vigorous, he soon found his salty protein grapes joining his devil's bagpipe deep in my fart valve. Within no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load leaching from my shit winker and all over my fishy flaps. My cake hole was so full of bald avenger and steamin' semen, the penis pudding was oozing down my chin and onto my breasticles. My vibration station was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. He pitched a giant toilet twinkie on my rack just so he could gobble it up like a pig at a trough.