The Dream's Thorn

by Amy Woods

  After having my furry cup raided, he then proceeded to pound my rusty bullet hole. Inserting a squash into my vaginal bacon buffet got me flooding flange custard faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. There was cock custard dribbling from his turgid terror truncheon and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. The fucking makes me flood my vertical moisture all over his devil's bagpipe. The unrelenting orgasms from his skeleton king fucking my one slice toaster made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. My chlamydia canal was trembling like a shitting dog. My mouth was so full of throbbing quim dagger and man fat, the steamin' semen was dripping down my chin and onto my breasticles. By now, my shamevelope was leaking like a broken coffee maker. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his muffbuster made my sex wee ooze like a broken fridge freezer. With my fishy flaps now much like a motorway pileup, he thought it was time to start sliding my vintage golf bag. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a butt nugget, I wondered? When he removed his blue-veined custard chucker from my black hole, 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 butt nugget off his mutton dagger. I awoke the next morning with my vaginal bacon buffet still sliming. I thought it was over but his throbbing quim dagger had other ideas. With his womb raider pounding deep into my hot pocket, the sensation of his chorizo howitzer smashing my cervix made me quiver like jelly. He crowned a giant Mr. Hanky on my boobage just so he could devour it up like a bulldog eating porridge. I can't wait to lap the creamy load from his meaty member. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon plunged deeper into my turd-herder. Some girls are happy just to fish for pearls when they're alone, but I can't get off without having my fist in my fuck gutter and a number of chillies up my rusty bullet hole. It was bliss having his womb ferret shoved inside me again; stuffing my chamber of squelch with a number of chillies just didn't get my split peach splurging like it used to. The feeling of his Da Vinci load sliming down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's panty hamster looking like a twisted slipper, and I was no different! If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my minge mucus foaming from my mound of love pudding, his meaty member is going to leave my lunchmeat resembling Brian May's plughole. He munched on my vertical smile, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. The seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from his ramrod soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The thrusting of my soft tight anus was so vigorous, he soon found his chin pounders joining his throbbing quim dagger deep in my poop chute. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and cock snot in my black hole created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of.

  Within no time, I could feel the shitty magician's wax sliming from my marmite motorway and all over my piss flaps. If I don't tune the tuna to get my fallopian fish stock leaking from my fuck gutter, his Nelson's Column is going to leave my beef curtains resembling a badly wrapped kebab. I can't wait to consume the baby gravy from his purple-headed trouser snake. I awoke the next morning with my front bum still dribbling. I thought it was over but his one-eyed monster had other ideas. The feeling of his love piss frothing down my throat got my minge mucus flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. Some girls are happy just to dial the rotary phone when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a number of chillies in my split peach and a barbie doll up my mud flap. My cake hole was so full of all-beef thermometer and baby gravy, the magician's wax was sliming down my chin and onto my rack. There was love mayonnaise oozing from his bald avenger and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's vertical smile looking like an over inflated dinghy, and I was no different! With my lunchmeat now much like a stamped bat, he thought it was time to start shoving my brown mile. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pitch a butt nugget, I wondered? The unrelenting orgasms from his huge penis pounding my whispering eye made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. With his blue-veined custard chucker raiding deep into my vibrator crater, the sensation of his blind butler smashing my cervix made me quiver like a rat on acid. After having my clunge pool thrusted, he then proceeded to slam my marmite motorway. My ladytown was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his disco stick made my shrimp sap foam like a broken coffee maker. The slamming of my other vagina was so vigorous, he soon found his clock weights joining his cheese-crusted cock deep in my cocoa channel. He munched on my clap flaps, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his bald-headed yogurt slinger rammed deeper into my rusty sherif's badge. The pounding makes me squirt my clunge gunge all over his stilton sword. By now, my cod crater was oozing like a rabid dog. He pinched off a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my rack just so he could consume it up like a pig at a trough. When he removed his womb ferret from my brown mile, he was pleasantly surprised to see a colon cobra staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the colon cobra off his muffbuster. The seemingly never-ending streams of penis pudding emanating from his muffbuster soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The mixture of toilet twinkie and gentleman's relish in my turd-herder created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. Inserting an egg timer into my calamari cockring got me ejecting sex wee faster than snot off a whip.

  Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock snot sliming from my Mavis Fritter and all over my beef curtains. I awoke the next morning with my wunder down under still leaking. I thought it was over but his clunger had other ideas. The seemingly never-ending streams of penis pudding emanating from his pink tractor beam 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 a 15" spiked vibrator in my bearded haddock pasty and a squash up my chocolate starfish. There was penis pudding flowing from his flesh gordon and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. Inserting a lightbulb into my smush mitten got me splurging clunge gunge faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The hammering makes me spray my minge mucus all over his cumtree. After having my carp cavity slammed, he then proceeded to slam my rusty sherif's badge. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his tenderloin truncheon made my pussy batter seep like a hungry pig at a trough. He munched on my fishy flaps, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. It was bliss having his muffbuster stuffed inside me again; stuffing my kipper dinghy with a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster just didn't get my tampon tunnel spritzing like it used to. If I don't finger blast to get my sex wee weeping from my pink velvet sausage wallet, his Nelson's Column is going to leave my fishy flaps resembling a gutted trout. I can't wait to chow down on the love mayonnaise from his one-eyed milkman. My mouth was so full of love lollipop and love mayonnaise, the cock snot was weeping down my chin and onto my boobage. By now, my shame portal was weeping like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. When he removed his spam javelin from my Mavis Fritter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the butt nugget off his blue-veined custard chucker. With his thrill drill slamming deep into my quim, the sensation of his battering ram smashing my cervix made me quake like a rat on acid. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's purple cabbage looking like a darts team's goalkeeper, and I was no different! The unrelenting orgasms from his blind butler hammering my oyster ditch made me come so hard, I began sweating like a midget nun at a penguin shoot. He arced a giant sewer trout on my chesticles just so he could consume it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The mixt
ure of hardened fudge nugget and magician's wax in my chocolate starfish created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. My cod canyon was trembling like jelly. With my piss flaps now much like the Japanese flag, he thought it was time to start stuffing my turd-herder. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cervix cigar stuffed deeper into my puckered brown eye. The pounding of my fart valve was so vigorous, he soon found his chin pounders joining his pink tractor beam deep in my puckered brown eye.

  With my spam castanets now much like a bulldog in a windtunnel, he thought it was time to start shoving my old dirt road. Is now the time to tell him I really need to curl a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? With his spam javelin plowing deep into my wizards sleeve, the sensation of his Nelson's Column smashing my cervix made me quiver like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. The mixture of toilet twinkie and penis pudding in my balloon knot created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. I awoke the next morning with my spunk dungeon still draining. I thought it was over but his Ocean's 11 Inches had other ideas. Inserting a number of chillies into my enchilada of love got me pouring sex wee faster than snot off a whip. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his ramrod stuffed deeper into my turd cutter. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's vertical garden looking like Brian May's plughole, and I was no different! My mouth was so full of gristle missile and cock custard, the Da Vinci load was seeping down my chin and onto my sweater puppies. My frilling pink golf bag was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. Some girls are happy just to strum the banjo when they're alone, but I can't get off without having my fist in my whispering eye and a 9-iron up my fudge factory. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his vein cane made my tuna tunnel tears ooze like a George Foreman grill. Within no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding frothing from my brown eye and all over my lunchmeat. It was bliss having his slut slayer rammed inside me again; stuffing my cock holster with a number of chillies just didn't get my chamber of squelch splurging like it used to. He rolled a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my mammaries just so he could devour it up like a hungry hungry hippo. The plowing of my fudge factory was so vigorous, he soon found his sperm factories joining his stilton sword deep in my shit winker. He munched on my panty hamster, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. The slamming makes me splurge my tuna tunnel tears all over his devil's bagpipe. I can't wait to consume the gentleman's relish from his blue-veined custard chucker. When he removed his bugger king 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 suck the butt nugget off his giggle stick. If I don't study english cliterature to get my minge monsoon slobbering from my moose knuckle, his gristle missile is going to leave my beef curtains resembling a shot cat. The unrelenting orgasms from his balony pony slamming my vibrator crater made me come so hard, I began sweating like a pregnant nun. After having my hatchet wound plowed, he then proceeded to plow my rusty bullet hole. There was gentleman's relish leaching from his slut slayer and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. The seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from his purple-headed trouser snake soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. By now, my salmon slit was sliming like a rabid dog.

  The mixture of sewer trout and penis pudding in my turd cutter created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. The seemingly never-ending streams of man fat emanating from his all-beef thermometer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With my clap flaps now much like Pete Burns' lips, he thought it was time to start sliding my rusty bullet hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to ease a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? There was steamin' semen sliming from his sperminator and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. My cake hole was so full of bald avenger and baby gravy, the gentleman's relish was seeping down my chin and onto my mosquito bites. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his love muscle stuffed deeper into my turd-herder. I can't wait to chow down on the man fat from his wrist-thick wand. The pounding makes me eject my clunge gunge all over his bugger king. After having my south mouth plowed, he then proceeded to thrust my turd cutter. Within no time, I could feel the shitty gentleman's relish foaming from my rusty bullet hole and all over my fishy flaps. The feeling of his magician's wax leaching down my throat got my minge mucus flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's flappy meal looking like a darts team's goalkeeper, and I was no different! Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my clearing in the woods got me spritzing clunge gunge faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. He blasted a giant stink pickle on my rack just so he could lap it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The unrelenting orgasms from his timed slimer raiding my vibration station made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. By now, my enchilada of love was foaming like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. When he removed his gristle missile from my turd cutter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the hardened fudge nugget off his brie baton. If I don't tune the tuna to get my minge mucus flowing from my gashtray, his balony pony is going to leave my vertical smile resembling a stamped bat. It was bliss having his timed slimer stuffed inside me again; stuffing my Quimcy, M.E. with a barbie doll just didn't get my south mouth gushing like it used to. My chlamydia canal was trembling like a shitting dog. Some girls are happy just to audition the finger puppets when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a lightbulb in my one slice toaster and a lightbulb up my Mavis Fritter. He munched on my roast beef platter, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. The pounding of my soft tight anus was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his muffbuster deep in my vintage golf bag. With his devil's bagpipe raiding deep into my gaping clam cavern, the sensation of his cream reaper smashing my cervix made me quake like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. I awoke the next morning with my soft-shelled tuna taco still dribbling. I thought it was over but his disco stick had other ideas.

  With his ample cock pounding deep into my hot pocket, the sensation of his skin flute smashing my cervix made me quake like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. The raiding of my tradesman's entrance was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his battering ram deep in my marmite motorway. If I don't audition the finger puppets to get my tuna tunnel tears foaming from my fuck trench, his cheese-crusted cock is going to leave my open-faced ham sandwich resembling that bathroom door in The Shining. He munched on my open-faced ham sandwich, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. My cake hole was so full of spunk-filled spam rocket and love mayonnaise, the love piss was slobbering down my chin and onto my top bollocks. When he removed his womb ferret from my brown mile, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the footlong fudge bullet off his ample cock. The feeling of his cock snot frothing down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. By now, my cum dumpster was dripping like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. I can't wait to gobble the man fat from his blind butler. With my roast beef platter now much like badly battered road kill, he thought it was time to start probing my marmite motorway. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pitch a stink pickle, I wondered? Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my oyster ditch got me surging pussy batter faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his spam dagger rammed deeper into my Mavis Fritter. My gaping clam cavern was trembling like a rat on acid. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and steamin' semen in my fudge factory created the
delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his disco stick made my vertical moisture froth like a rabid dog. I awoke the next morning with my quim still sliming. I thought it was over but his love muscle had other ideas. 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 vibration station and a squash up my turd cutter. There was cock custard trickling from his master of ceremonies and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. The plowing makes me spray my sex wee all over his washington monument. The seemingly never-ending streams of baby gravy emanating from his spunk-filled spam rocket soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He eased out a giant hardened fudge nugget on my breasticles just so he could gobble it up like a bulldog eating porridge. After having my spunk dungeon thrusted, he then proceeded to thrust my fart valve. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love mayonnaise flowing from my ring piece and all over my vertical garden. It was bliss having his wrist-thick wand stuffed inside me again; stuffing my chlamydia canal with a barbie doll just didn't get my south mouth spattering like it used to. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's hairy goblet looking like a horse's collar, and I was no different!