by Amy Woods
When he removed his disco stick from my brown mile, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the colon cobra off his stilton sword. The unrelenting orgasms from his blue-veined custard chucker pounding my fuck trench made me come so hard, I began sweating like Mike Tyson at a spelling bee. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his jebend rammed deeper into my rusty bullet hole. With his ramrod hammering deep into my hatchet wound, the sensation of his skin flute smashing my cervix made me quake like a rat on acid. I can't wait to devour the penis pudding from his battering ram. My smush mitten was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his cheese-crusted cock made my fallopian fish stock leach like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. The seemingly never-ending streams of penis pudding emanating from his spam dagger soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My mouth was so full of one-eyed monster and gentleman's relish, the ectoplasm was frothing down my chin and onto my breasticles. He crowned a giant sewer trout on my chesticles just so he could lap it up like a pig at a trough. After having my fuck trench pounded, he then proceeded to plow my soft tight anus. It was bliss having his purple-headed trouser snake probed inside me again; stuffing my sperm socket with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my clam-flavoured pothole gushing like it used to. If I don't buff the muff to get my clunge gunge flowing from my tuna canal, his blind butler is going to leave my clap flaps resembling a werewolf with it's throat cut. Within no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding slobbering from my black hole and all over my piss flaps. The pounding of my soft tight anus was so vigorous, he soon found his chin pounders joining his wrist-thick wand deep in my mud flap. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and creamy load in my rusty sherif's badge created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. With my beef curtains now much like a rabid baboon's arse, he thought it was time to start shoving my puckered brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cut a butt nugget, I wondered? Inserting a gerbil into my depravity cavity got me pouring pussy batter faster than a greased weasel shit. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's purple cabbage looking like badly battered road kill, and I was no different! Some girls are happy just to play the clitar 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 Mavis Fritter. He munched on my beef curtains, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. There was Da Vinci load dripping from his cunt plunger and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. The plowing makes me splurge my minge monsoon all over his meaty member. By now, my chlamydia canal was foaming like a leaky tap. The feeling of his Da Vinci load foaming down my throat got my vertical moisture flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit.
If I don't tune the tuna to get my minge mucus flowing from my shame portal, his love lollipop is going to leave my open-faced ham sandwich resembling a bucket of smashed crabs. The seemingly never-ending streams of man fat emanating from his greasy kebab skewer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. By now, my cum dumpster was slobbering like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. 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 whispering eye and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my other vagina. The unrelenting orgasms from his stilton sword plowing my cum dumpster made me come so hard, I began sweating like Gary glitter at PC World. There was ectoplasm foaming from his stilton spear and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his greasy slimelight made my flange custard weep like a broken coffee maker. He munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. My chlamydia canal was trembling like jelly. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and cock snot in my rusty bullet hole created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. He copped a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my sweater puppies just so he could chow down on it up like a hungry hungry hippo. With my velcro triangle now much like a manatee in yoga pants, he thought it was time to start stuffing my turd cutter. Is now the time to tell him I really need to roll a stink pickle, I wondered? When he removed his one-eyed monster from my poop chute, he was pleasantly surprised to see a colon cobra staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the footlong fudge bullet off his disco stick. I awoke the next morning with my kipper dinghy still dripping. I thought it was over but his spunk-filled spam rocket had other ideas. Inserting a gerbil into my south mouth got me surging flange custard faster than snot off a whip. The plowing of my old dirt road was so vigorous, he soon found his man marbles joining his sperminator deep in my shit winker. The feeling of his Da Vinci load frothing down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. My throat was so full of ramrod and baby gravy, the steamin' semen was draining down my chin and onto my chesticles. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his huge penis probed deeper into my Mavis Fritter. After having my kipper dinghy raided, he then proceeded to pound my fart valve. The slamming makes me squirt my spaff all over his turgid terror truncheon. Within no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load flowing from my mud flap and all over my roast beef platter. It was bliss having his muffbuster rammed inside me again; stuffing my oyster ditch with an antique doorknob just didn't get my clearing in the woods pouring like it used to. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's vertical smile looking like a motorway pileup, and I was no different! With his clunger hammering deep into my frilling pink golf bag, the sensation of his brie baton smashing my cervix made me quake like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer.
Within no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load haemorrhaging from my mud flap and all over my clap flaps. He curled a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my cans just so he could chow down on it up like a bulldog eating porridge. With his ample cock fucking deep into my birth cannon, the sensation of his giggle stick smashing my cervix made me quake like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. There was steamin' semen leaching from his bugger king and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. The unrelenting orgasms from his balony pony hammering my moose knuckle made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. My cod crater was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. When he removed his kebeb skewer from my ring piece, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the colon cobra off his piss pipe. He munched on my beef curtains, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. I awoke the next morning with my depravity cavity still flowing. I thought it was over but his all-beef thermometer had other ideas. Inserting a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster into my cod cave got me spraying clunge gunge faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The seemingly never-ending streams of man fat emanating from his slut slayer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The slamming makes me pour my tuna tunnel tears all over his slut slayer. I can't wait to suck the penis pudding from his master of ceremonies. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and creamy load in my soft tight anus created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. The feeling of his love piss seeping down my throat got my beige slime flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. My mouth was so full of spam dagger and Da Vinci load, the steamin' semen was slobbering down my chin and onto my droopies. With my meaty hangers now much like Terry Waite's allotment, he thought it was time to start plunging my poop chute. Is now the time to tell him I really need to roll a butt nugget, I wondered? If I don't finger blast to get my shrimp sap sliming from my smush mitten, his bugger king is going to leave my clap flaps resembling the Japanese flag. After having my sperm socket thrusted, he then proceeded to thrust my other vagina. The slamming of my Mavis Fritter was s
o vigorous, he soon found his family jewels joining his turgid terror truncheon deep in my chocolate starfish. Some girls are happy just to play the clitar when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an antique doorknob in my chamber of squelch and a 9-iron up my old dirt road. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cervix cigar shoved deeper into my fudge factory. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his Ocean's 11 Inches made my sex wee leach like a jizz waterfall. It was bliss having his cervix cigar probed inside me again; stuffing my municipal cockwash with a number of chillies just didn't get my shame portal surging like it used to. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's fishy flaps looking like a motorway pileup, and I was no different!
It was bliss having his giggle stick shoved inside me again; stuffing my tampon tunnel with my fist just didn't get my mound of love pudding spraying like it used to. With my roast beef platter now much like Brian May's plughole, he thought it was time to start ramming my cocoa channel. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cut a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? The hammering of my poop chute was so vigorous, he soon found his clock weights joining his wrist-thick wand deep in my ring piece. The seemingly never-ending streams of Da Vinci load emanating from his spam dagger soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The feeling of his Da Vinci load seeping down my throat got my minge mucus flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his batter blaster made my vertical moisture weep like a broken fridge freezer. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's vertical smile looking like a rabid baboon's arse, and I was no different! My throat was so full of vein cane and creamy load, the man fat was dripping down my chin and onto my chest puppies. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his tallywacker rammed deeper into my fudge factory. He munched on my velcro triangle, even though I'd been on the rag for the best part of a week. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my salmon slit got me flowing fallopian fish stock faster than snot off a whip. The plowing makes me flood my fallopian fish stock all over his blind butler. The unrelenting orgasms from his disco stick hammering my wizards sleeve made me come so hard, I began sweating like a white mouse in a tampon factory. By now, my Quimcy, M.E. was frothing like a slavering dog. He eased out a giant sewer trout on my chesticles just so he could gobble it up like a pig at a trough. The mixture of sewer trout and penis pudding in my black hole created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. I awoke the next morning with my furry cup still slobbering. I thought it was over but his slut slayer had other ideas. After having my quim raided, he then proceeded to plow my rusty bullet hole. I can't wait to consume the steamin' semen from his throbbing quim dagger. If I don't study english cliterature to get my spaff dripping from my fuck trench, his balony pony is going to leave my lunchmeat resembling a sand blasted tomato. There was baby gravy dripping from his chorizo howitzer and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. When he removed his cumtree from my balloon knot, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the hardened fudge nugget off his cunt stretcher. Some girls are happy just to strum the banjo when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a squash in my ladytown and my fist up my chocolate starfish. Within no time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm sliming from my tradesman's entrance and all over my fishy flaps. With his wensleydale wand hammering deep into my moose knuckle, the sensation of his chubstep smashing my cervix made me quiver like a shitting dog.
The feeling of his baby gravy leaching down my throat got my fallopian fish stock flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. He munched on my vertical smile, even though I'd been on the rag for the best part of a week. With his blue-veined custard chucker plowing deep into my ruby cave, the sensation of his chorizo howitzer smashing my cervix made me quake like a tasered slab of chopped liver. I can't wait to suck the cock snot from his disco stick. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's velcro triangle looking like Pete Burns' lips, and I was no different! The thrusting of my turd cutter was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his womb ferret deep in my old dirt road. By now, my cod crater was dripping like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. The seemingly never-ending streams of creamy load emanating from his batter blaster soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his cumtree made my beige slime seep like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. With my open-faced ham sandwich now much like a ripped out fireplace, he thought it was time to start plunging my rusty bullet hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pitch a stink pickle, I wondered? 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 enchilada of love and a squash up my turd cutter. I awoke the next morning with my south mouth still flowing. I thought it was over but his ramrod had other ideas. It was bliss having his cumtree plunged inside me again; stuffing my meat purse with a 9-iron just didn't get my municipal cockwash pouring like it used to. Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat sliming from my marmite motorway and all over my spam castanets. If I don't fish for pearls to get my fallopian fish stock foaming from my penis pothole, his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon is going to leave my hairy goblet resembling a clown's pocket. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and love mayonnaise in my rusty bullet hole created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. Inserting a barbie doll into my municipal cockwash got me spattering minge mucus faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. When he removed his long-dong silver from my chocolate starfish, 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 slut slayer. After having my ground zero grotto raided, he then proceeded to fuck my mud flap. He launched a giant Mr. Hanky on my chesticles 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 flesh gordon shoved deeper into my old dirt road. My south mouth was trembling like a shitting dog. My cake hole was so full of cunt stretcher and love mayonnaise, the gentleman's relish was dribbling down my chin and onto my chesticles. The plowing makes me spritz my flange custard all over his cream reaper. There was steamin' semen frothing from his blind butler and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more.
Some girls are happy just to get a stinky pinky when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 15" spiked vibrator in my calamari cockring and an egg timer up my balloon knot. I can't wait to devour the penis pudding from his washington monument. After having my ruby cave plowed, he then proceeded to fuck my black hole. My fuck trench was trembling like jelly. The seemingly never-ending streams of love piss emanating from his giggle stick soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With my purple cabbage now much like badly battered road kill, he thought it was time to start shoving my brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a butt nugget, I wondered? Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock snot trickling from my soft tight anus and all over my furburger. He munched on my fishy flaps, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. With his vein cane pounding deep into my carp cavity, the sensation of his muffbuster smashing my cervix made me quiver like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my enchilada of love got me spritzing minge monsoon faster than snot off a whip. My mouth was so full of greasy kebab skewer and gentleman's relish, the cock snot was draining down my chin and onto my fiery biscuits. When he removed his purple-headed trouser snake from my black hole, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the sewer trout off his love lollipop. It was bliss having his spam javelin rammed inside me again; stuffing my sperm socket with a lightbulb just didn't get my sperm socket pouring like it used to.
The feeling of his gentleman's relish dripping down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. There was love piss oozing from his blue-veined custard chucker and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's purple cabbage looking like a dropped burrito, and I was no different! The unrelenting orgasms from his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus hammering my cod cave made me come so hard, I began sweating like Gary glitter at PC World. By now, my shamevelope was draining like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. He pinched off a giant sewer trout on my mammaries just so he could chow down on it up like a pig at a trough. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and steamin' semen in my tradesman's entrance created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. If I don't play the clitar to get my spaff sliming from my moose knuckle, his balony pony is going to leave my velcro triangle resembling that bathroom door in The Shining. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his brie baton made my shrimp sap drip like a rabid dog. The fucking of my Oxo orifice was so vigorous, he soon found his family jewels joining his love lollipop deep in my cocoa channel. I awoke the next morning with my fuck gutter still haemorrhaging. I thought it was over but his chorizo howitzer had other ideas. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his timed slimer probed deeper into my ring piece.