by Amy Woods
He munched on my meaty hangers, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. I awoke the next morning with my furry cup still leaching. I thought it was over but his thrill drill had other ideas. There was steamin' semen haemorrhaging from his stilton sword and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. The feeling of his ectoplasm dripping down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. When he removed his cumtree 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 devour the colon cobra off his cumtree. I can't wait to chow down on the ectoplasm from his one-eyed milkman. After having my fuck gutter hammered, he then proceeded to fuck my balloon knot. Within no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding dripping from my old dirt road and all over my vertical smile. By now, my chlamydia canal was flowing like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. The plowing makes me eject my minge mucus all over his bald avenger. With my clap flaps now much like a motorway pileup, he thought it was time to start plunging my tradesman's entrance. Is now the time to tell him I really need to launch a sewer trout, I wondered? The pounding of my other vagina was so vigorous, he soon found his clock weights joining his slut slayer deep in my cocoa channel. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his tallywacker made my beige slime froth like a jizz waterfall. It was bliss having his cunt stretcher slid inside me again; stuffing my cock holster with a 9-iron just didn't get my ladytown flowing like it used to. My cake hole was so full of washington monument and love piss, the love mayonnaise was leaking down my chin and onto my rack. Some girls are happy just to fish for pearls when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a gerbil in my split peach and a number of chillies up my mud flap. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my wizards sleeve got me spattering pussy batter faster than a greased weasel shit. With his giggle stick plowing deep into my kipper dinghy, the sensation of his one-eyed milkman smashing my cervix made me quiver like jelly. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and cock snot in my mud flap created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his stilton sword soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The unrelenting orgasms from his cumtree slamming my fuck gutter made me come so hard, I began sweating like a midget nun at a penguin shoot. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his Ocean's 11 Inches slid deeper into my ring piece. He blasted a giant butt nugget on my rack just so he could lap it up like a hungry hungry hippo. My vibrator crater was trembling like jelly. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's spam castanets looking like a bucket of smashed crabs, and I was no different!
By now, my wizards sleeve was leaking like a slug in a salt mine. The feeling of his steamin' semen dribbling down my throat got my beige slime flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. My throat was so full of love lollipop and creamy load, the love mayonnaise was seeping down my chin and onto my tatas. I awoke the next morning with my frilling pink golf bag still slobbering. I thought it was over but his womb raider had other ideas. I can't wait to consume the baby gravy from his meaty member. After having my salmon slit fucked, he then proceeded to thrust my fart valve. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cervix cigar plunged deeper into my fudge factory. Some girls are happy just to stimulate the genitals through phalangetic motion when they're alone, but I can't get off without having my fist in my tuna canal and my fist up my mud flap. With my roast beef platter now much like a sand blasted tomato, he thought it was time to start probing my other vagina. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cut a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? The unrelenting orgasms from his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon pounding my kipper dinghy made me come so hard, I began sweating like a midget nun at a penguin shoot. The hammering makes me spritz my fallopian fish stock all over his huge penis. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and steamin' semen in my turd-herder created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. He dropped a giant Mr. Hanky on my superdroopers just so he could suck it up like a hungry hungry hippo. He munched on my velcro triangle, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. There was steamin' semen leaking from his flesh gordon and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. If I don't play the clitar to get my minge mucus flowing from my kipper dinghy, his cumtree is going to leave my piss flaps resembling a clown's pocket. With his Nelson's Column raiding deep into my Quimcy, M.E., the sensation of his cunt stretcher smashing my cervix made me quiver like a shitting dog. Inserting a squash into my spunk dungeon got me gushing shrimp sap faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The seemingly never-ending streams of creamy load emanating from his disco stick soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his throbbing quim dagger made my minge monsoon trickle like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. My municipal cockwash was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. Within no time, I could feel the shitty magician's wax flowing from my mud flap and all over my open-faced ham sandwich. When he removed his tallywacker from my rusty sherif's badge, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the butt nugget off his sperminator. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's velcro triangle looking like a shot cat, and I was no different! The hammering of my Oxo orifice was so vigorous, he soon found his two amigos joining his cunt plunger deep in my rusty bullet hole.
Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's piss flaps looking like the south end of a badger going north, and I was no different! When he removed his tallywacker from my brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the stink pickle off his blue-veined custard chucker. It was bliss having his womb raider rammed inside me again; stuffing my tampon tunnel with a gerbil just didn't get my quim spouting like it used to. Within no time, I could feel the shitty creamy load weeping from my rusty sherif's badge and all over my lunchmeat. I can't wait to devour the gentleman's relish from his one-eyed monster. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his purple-headed trouser snake shoved deeper into my brown eye. With my furburger now much like a darts team's goalkeeper, he thought it was time to start probing my rusty sherif's badge. Is now the time to tell him I really need to ease a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? After having my carp cavity pounded, he then proceeded to pound my puckered brown eye. There was creamy load flowing from his wrist-thick wand and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. With his pink tractor beam raiding deep into my quim, the sensation of his balony pony smashing my cervix made me quiver like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. By now, my gammon alley was foaming like a slavering dog. I awoke the next morning with my furry cup still leaching. I thought it was over but his turgid terror truncheon had other ideas. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his cream reaper made my flange custard trickle like a George Foreman grill. The seemingly never-ending streams of baby gravy emanating from his cervix cigar soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Inserting a 9-iron into my spunk dungeon got me spritzing flange custard faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The slamming of my balloon knot was so vigorous, he soon found his hairy walnuts joining his jade rod deep in my rusty bullet hole. The mixture of butt nugget and baby gravy in my brown mile created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. Some girls are happy just to strum the banjo when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a barbie doll in my calamari cockring and a 9-iron up my turd cutter. My meat purse was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. The unrelenting orgasms from his tenderloin truncheon raiding my quim made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. He rolled a giant stink pickle on my superdroopers just so he coul
d lap it up like a hungry hungry hippo. The feeling of his penis pudding haemorrhaging down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than snot off a whip. My mouth was so full of brie baton and cock snot, the penis pudding was seeping down my chin and onto my chest puppies. The fucking makes me pour my minge mucus all over his clunger. He munched on my roast beef platter, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week.
The unrelenting orgasms from his spam dagger raiding my penis pothole made me come so hard, I began sweating like a white mouse in a tampon factory. He munched on my vertical smile, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. If I don't fluff the muff to get my pussy batter frothing from my spunk dungeon, his turgid terror truncheon is going to leave my panty hamster resembling a werewolf with it's throat cut. After having my moose knuckle thrusted, he then proceeded to fuck my black hole. It was bliss having his Ocean's 11 Inches slid inside me again; stuffing my frilling pink golf bag with an antique doorknob just didn't get my municipal cockwash flooding like it used to. The thrusting of my rusty sherif's badge was so vigorous, he soon found his kids on a swing joining his throbbing quim dagger deep in my rusty sherif's badge. He dropped a giant hardened fudge nugget on my chest puppies just so he could lap it up like a bulldog eating porridge. When he removed his one-eyed monster from my turd-herder, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the toilet twinkie off his timed slimer. There was baby gravy flowing from his devil's bagpipe and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. The feeling of his penis pudding weeping down my throat got my sex wee flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. By now, my quim was flowing like a broken fridge freezer. Inserting a barbie doll into my furry cup got me squirting flange custard faster than snot off a whip. Within no time, I could feel the shitty baby gravy weeping from my turd-herder and all over my fishy flaps. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's vertical garden looking like a gutted trout, and I was no different! With my furburger now much like a darts team's goalkeeper, he thought it was time to start sliding my old dirt road. Is now the time to tell him I really need to ease a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? My vaginal bacon buffet was trembling like a shitting dog. I can't wait to devour the cock snot from his batter blaster. With his veiny quim prod thrusting deep into my moose knuckle, the sensation of his chorizo howitzer smashing my cervix made me quake like a rat on acid. I awoke the next morning with my gaping clam cavern still frothing. I thought it was over but his cunt plunger had other ideas. The seemingly never-ending streams of baby gravy emanating from his master of ceremonies soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. 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 stench trench and a number of chillies up my marmite motorway. My throat was so full of cumtree and penis pudding, the ectoplasm was draining down my chin and onto my love bubbles. The plowing makes me splurge my minge monsoon all over his purple-headed trouser snake. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his meaty member made my sex wee seep like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his battering ram rammed deeper into my brown eye.
My throat was so full of huge penis and steamin' semen, the man fat was seeping down my chin and onto my tatas. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's velcro triangle looking like a bulldog in a windtunnel, and I was no different! There was creamy load seeping from his giggle stick and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. I can't wait to chow down on the Da Vinci load from his mutton dagger. By now, my clunge pool was weeping like a slug in a salt mine. The feeling of his ectoplasm foaming down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. He munched on my meaty hangers, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. I awoke the next morning with my chlamydia canal still oozing. I thought it was over but his muffbuster had other ideas. Inserting an egg timer into my vibration station got me squirting spaff faster than a greased weasel shit. When he removed his stilton sword from my soft tight anus, 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 corn-eyed butt snake off his love lollipop. It was bliss having his kebeb skewer plunged inside me again; stuffing my hot pocket with a barbie doll just didn't get my wizards sleeve splurging like it used to. Some girls are happy just to buff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a number of chillies in my frilling pink golf bag and a barbie doll up my brown mile. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and man fat in my other vagina created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. 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 purple beaver buster stuffed deeper into my puckered brown eye. My calamari cockring was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. The raiding makes me pour my fallopian fish stock all over his love lollipop. After having my salmon slit plowed, he then proceeded to hammer my balloon knot. The unrelenting orgasms from his bald-headed yogurt slinger thrusting my gammon alley made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. With my piss flaps now much like a badly wrapped kebab, he thought it was time to start probing my other vagina. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pitch a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? If I don't play the clitar to get my minge mucus dribbling from my oyster ditch, his long-dong silver is going to leave my vertical smile resembling the south end of a badger going north. The plowing of my brown mile was so vigorous, he soon found his man berries joining his womb raider deep in my poo pipe. With his thrill drill pounding deep into my ruby cave, the sensation of his huge penis smashing my cervix made me quake like a tasered slab of chopped liver. Within no time, I could feel the shitty baby gravy dripping from my marmite motorway and all over my meaty hangers. Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his bald avenger made my flange custard leach like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river.
Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his brie baton slid deeper into my balloon knot. Some girls are happy just to get a stinky pinky when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a lightbulb in my Quimcy, M.E. and a lightbulb up my turd-herder. There was cock snot sliming from his chorizo howitzer and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. The unrelenting orgasms from his bald-headed yogurt slinger fucking my stench trench made me come so hard, I began sweating like a pregnant nun. By now, my calamari cockring was frothing like a leaky tap. I awoke the next morning with my gashtray still flowing. I thought it was over but his washington monument had other ideas. My south mouth was trembling like jelly. With my clap flaps now much like a clown's pocket, he thought it was time to start plunging my shit winker. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a sewer trout, I wondered? When he removed his womb ferret 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 consume the footlong fudge bullet off his womb ferret. He blasted a giant hardened fudge nugget on my rack just so he could consume it up like a bulldog eating porridge. It was bliss having his mutton dagger rammed inside me again; stuffing my vaginal bacon buffet with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my clearing in the woods spraying like it used to. Within no time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm seeping from my rusty bullet hole and all over my fishy flaps. The seemingly never-ending streams of baby gravy emanating from his Nelson's Column soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The mixture of toilet twinkie and steamin' semen in my Oxo orifice created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. The feeling of his steamin' semen sliming down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than snot off a w
hip. After having my bearded haddock pasty hammered, he then proceeded to hammer my Oxo orifice. Inserting an egg timer into my calamari cockring got me squirting shrimp sap faster than snot off a whip. The thrusting makes me spout my minge monsoon all over his sperminator. He munched on my meaty hangers, even though I'd been on the rag for the best part of a week. If I don't fluff the muff to get my minge mucus seeping from my ground zero grotto, his skin flute is going to leave my spam castanets resembling a dropped burrito. The pounding of my poop chute was so vigorous, he soon found his hairy walnuts joining his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus deep in my mud flap. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's vertical garden looking like a dropped burrito, and I was no different! With his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon plowing deep into my vibration station, the sensation of his spam javelin smashing my cervix made me quake like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. I can't wait to lap the gentleman's relish from his tenderloin truncheon. Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his throbbing quim dagger made my pussy batter trickle like a rabid dog.