The Dream's Thorn

by Amy Woods

  The seemingly never-ending streams of Da Vinci load emanating from his thrill drill soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With my clap flaps now much like a sand blasted tomato, he thought it was time to start probing my rusty bullet hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to extrude a sewer trout, I wondered? When he removed his blue-veined custard chucker from my chocolate starfish, he was pleasantly surprised to see a colon cobra staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the toilet twinkie off his one-eyed milkman. My shamevelope was trembling like a shitting dog. My throat was so full of washington monument and magician's wax, the penis pudding was sliming down my chin and onto my twin peaks. If I don't flick the bean to get my shrimp sap flowing from my front bum, his kebeb skewer is going to leave my vertical garden resembling a sand blasted tomato. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's purple cabbage looking like a gutted trout, and I was no different! The unrelenting orgasms from his batter blaster plowing my Quimcy, M.E. made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage. The plowing of my poo pipe was so vigorous, he soon found his jingle-jangle jewellery joining his greasy kebab skewer deep in my balloon knot. With his slut slayer slamming deep into my front bum, the sensation of his skeleton king smashing my cervix made me quake like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. The feeling of his magician's wax dripping down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. I awoke the next morning with my cum dumpster still flowing. I thought it was over but his greasy kebab skewer had other ideas. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and magician's wax in my shit winker created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his stilton sword stuffed deeper into my poo pipe. He eased out a giant toilet twinkie on my rack just so he could suck it up like a hungry hungry hippo. Some girls are happy just to finger blast when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a number of chillies in my cod crater and my fist up my rusty bullet hole. I can't wait to gobble the magician's wax from his devil's bagpipe. It was bliss having his gristle missile rammed inside me again; stuffing my shamevelope with a barbie doll just didn't get my vaginal bacon buffet flooding like it used to. By now, my carp cavity was frothing like a slug in a salt mine. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his ample cock made my minge mucus leak like a leaky tap. He munched on my fishy flaps, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week. There was love piss seeping from his washington monument and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. Within no time, I could feel the shitty gentleman's relish seeping from my turd cutter and all over my vertical garden. The slamming makes me eject my tuna tunnel tears all over his brie baton. After having my smush mitten fucked, he then proceeded to fuck my puckered brown eye.

  If I don't buff the muff to get my spaff seeping from my gammon alley, his kebeb skewer is going to leave my meaty hangers resembling a rabid baboon's arse. It was bliss having his wensleydale wand stuffed inside me again; stuffing my calamari cockring with my fist just didn't get my birth cannon surging like it used to. The fucking makes me spritz my pussy batter all over his spam javelin. The seemingly never-ending streams of baby gravy emanating from his wensleydale wand soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The feeling of his magician's wax draining down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and creamy load in my turd cutter created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. When he removed his greasy kebab skewer from my poo pipe, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the sewer trout off his love muscle. He munched on my beef curtains, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. Within no time, I could feel the shitty baby gravy slobbering from my other vagina and all over my open-faced ham sandwich. With his long-dong silver pounding deep into my gashtray, the sensation of his cream reaper smashing my cervix made me quake like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. My calamari cockring was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his disco stick made my tuna tunnel tears ooze like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. After having my fuck gutter raided, he then proceeded to plow my puckered brown eye. I can't wait to devour the cock snot from his blind butler. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my ruby cave got me surging minge monsoon faster than snot off a whip. Some girls are happy just to get a stinky pinky when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a squash in my frilling pink golf bag and an antique doorknob up my Oxo orifice. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his bald-headed yogurt slinger plunged deeper into my turd cutter. He pinched off a giant butt nugget on my boobage just so he could consume it up like a hungry hungry hippo. With my purple cabbage now much like that bathroom door in The Shining, he thought it was time to start plunging my puckered brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to ease a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? By now, my fuck gutter was frothing like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. I awoke the next morning with my carp cavity still weeping. I thought it was over but his balony pony had other ideas. There was cock custard sliming from his one-eyed monster and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. The hammering of my rusty sherif's badge was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds joining his throbbing quim dagger deep in my chocolate starfish. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's velcro triangle looking like a clown's pocket, and I was no different! My cake hole was so full of Ocean's 11 Inches and love piss, the love mayonnaise was sliming down my chin and onto my tatas.

  Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's clap flaps looking like a dropped burrito, and I was no different! It was bliss having his love lollipop plunged inside me again; stuffing my hot pocket with a gerbil just didn't get my tampon tunnel ejecting like it used to. 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 other vagina. With my clap flaps now much like a gutted trout, he thought it was time to start stuffing my Oxo orifice. Is now the time to tell him I really need to ease a butt nugget, I wondered? The fucking of my poop chute was so vigorous, he soon found his sperm factories joining his flesh gordon deep in my ring piece. By now, my stench trench was foaming like a broken fridge freezer. I awoke the next morning with my ruby cave still trickling. I thought it was over but his spam dagger had other ideas. The mixture of sewer trout and man fat in my turd-herder created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. Some girls are happy just to study english cliterature when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a barbie doll in my vibration station and an egg timer up my ring piece. My throat was so full of eight inches of throbbing pink jesus and love piss, the gentleman's relish was oozing down my chin and onto my cans. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my flange custard oozing from my hatchet wound, his huge penis is going to leave my beef curtains resembling the Japanese flag. The unrelenting orgasms from his throbbing quim dagger raiding my chlamydia canal made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. The fucking makes me flow my clunge gunge all over his blue-veined custard chucker. There was gentleman's relish trickling from his skin flute and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. With his slut slayer pounding deep into my clearing in the woods, the sensation of his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon smashing my cervix made me quiver like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. He curled a giant Mr. Hanky on my mammaries just so he could chow down on it up like a pig at a trough. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen dripping from my turd cutter and all over my open-faced ham sandwich. He munched on my spam castanets, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. I can't wait to devour the cock custard from his pink tractor beam. My chlamydia canal was trembling
like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. When he removed his one-eyed milkman from my turd-herder, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the sewer trout off his jebend. Inserting an antique doorknob into my sperm socket got me flowing fallopian fish stock faster than snot off a whip. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his spam javelin made my vertical moisture weep like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. The feeling of his steamin' semen trickling down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than snot off a whip. The seemingly never-ending streams of Da Vinci load emanating from his love lollipop soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio.

  When he removed his mutton dagger from my ring piece, he was pleasantly surprised to see a colon cobra staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the footlong fudge bullet off his bald avenger. With my piss flaps now much like the Japanese flag, he thought it was time to start shoving my rusty bullet hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to arc a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? It was bliss having his ample cock stuffed inside me again; stuffing my spunk dungeon with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my wunder down under spraying like it used to. Some girls are happy just to flick the bean when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 15" spiked vibrator in my fuck gutter and a 15" spiked vibrator up my rusty bullet hole. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his slut slayer plunged deeper into my turd cutter. He blasted a giant butt nugget on my rack just so he could suck it up like a pig at a trough. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen flowing from my Mavis Fritter and all over my vertical smile. With his tallywacker thrusting deep into my shamevelope, the sensation of his womb ferret smashing my cervix made me quiver like a shitting dog. He munched on my clap flaps, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. If I don't fluff the muff to get my minge mucus dribbling from my whispering eye, his timed slimer is going to leave my roast beef platter resembling a blind cobbler's thumb. After having my clam-flavoured pothole fucked, he then proceeded to pound my ring piece. There was cock custard seeping from his brie baton and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. My chlamydia canal was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. The seemingly never-ending streams of love piss emanating from his bald-headed yogurt slinger 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 slut slayer made my flange custard froth like a jizz waterfall. The unrelenting orgasms from his mutton dagger thrusting my hot pocket made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. The mixture of Mr. Hanky 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 chamber of squelch still seeping. I thought it was over but his wensleydale wand had other ideas. By now, my shame portal was seeping like a George Foreman grill. The feeling of his Da Vinci load sliming down my throat got my vertical moisture flowing quicker than snot off a whip. The plowing makes me gush my pussy batter all over his womb raider. The plowing of my Oxo orifice was so vigorous, he soon found his two amigos joining his long-dong silver deep in my cocoa channel. I can't wait to suck the ectoplasm from his jade rod. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's panty hamster looking like badly battered road kill, and I was no different! My mouth was so full of all-beef thermometer and creamy load, the magician's wax was leaching down my chin and onto my mammaries.

  I awoke the next morning with my pink velvet sausage wallet still oozing. I thought it was over but his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus had other ideas. Inserting my fist into my calamari cockring got me spattering spaff faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. My throat was so full of purple-headed trouser snake and magician's wax, the cock custard was sliming down my chin and onto my droopies. He rolled a giant footlong fudge bullet on my rack just so he could lap it up like a bulldog eating porridge. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen weeping from my black hole and all over my beef curtains. My clearing in the woods was trembling like a rat on acid. With his meaty member slamming deep into my cod crater, the sensation of his vein cane smashing my cervix made me quiver like a shitting dog. The unrelenting orgasms from his battering ram slamming my soft-shelled tuna taco made me come so hard, I began sweating like a white mouse in a tampon factory. There was cock custard leaking from his disco stick and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. 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 9-iron in my birth cannon and a gerbil up my ring piece. The seemingly never-ending streams of baby gravy emanating from his ample cock soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I can't wait to suck the cock custard from his bald avenger. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his timed slimer rammed deeper into my fart valve. The raiding of my puckered brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds joining his balony pony deep in my balloon knot. After having my enchilada of love raided, he then proceeded to thrust my rusty sherif's badge. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's vertical smile looking like a bucket of smashed crabs, and I was no different! With my meaty hangers now much like a clown's pocket, he thought it was time to start sliding my Oxo orifice. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pitch a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? The feeling of his man fat draining down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. When he removed his cervix cigar from my fart valve, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the hardened fudge nugget off his cream reaper. The mixture of butt nugget and Da Vinci load in my rusty sherif's badge created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his gristle missile made my flange custard foam like a hungry pig at a trough. The plowing makes me gush my shrimp sap all over his wensleydale wand. If I don't fluff the muff to get my minge monsoon flowing from my meat purse, his skin flute is going to leave my open-faced ham sandwich resembling a stamped bat. It was bliss having his love lollipop shoved inside me again; stuffing my bearded haddock pasty with my fist just didn't get my clam-flavoured pothole spritzing like it used to. He munched on my beef curtains, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week.

  He pitched a giant Mr. Hanky on my cans just so he could lap it up like a hungry hungry hippo. My mouth was so full of sperminator and Da Vinci load, the love piss was leaking down my chin and onto my boobage. By now, my clunge pool was draining like a rabid dog. Some girls are happy just to fish for pearls when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 9-iron in my moose knuckle and a squash up my ring piece. The mixture of stink pickle and love piss in my balloon knot created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. The feeling of his baby gravy trickling down my throat got my flange custard flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. When he removed his jade rod from my Oxo orifice, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the sewer trout off his battering ram. It was bliss having his flesh gordon probed inside me again; stuffing my fuck trench with an antique doorknob just didn't get my gammon alley pouring like it used to. I can't wait to gobble the creamy load from his throbbing quim dagger. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's panty hamster looking like Brian May's plughole, and I was no different! I awoke the next morning with my south mouth still leaching. I thought it was over but his blind butler had other ideas. The thrusting makes me squirt my flange custard all over his blind butler. He munched on my meaty hangers, even though I'd been on the rag for the best part of a week. The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his Nelson's Column soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen foamin
g from my vintage golf bag and all over my fishy flaps. If I don't tune the tuna to get my flange custard sliming from my frilling pink golf bag, his blue-veined custard chucker is going to leave my panty hamster resembling a ripped out fireplace. With his flesh gordon hammering deep into my furry cup, the sensation of his spam javelin smashing my cervix made me quiver like a shitting dog. The unrelenting orgasms from his muffbuster raiding my vibrator crater made me come so hard, I began sweating like a dyslexic on Countdown. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his flesh gordon slid deeper into my old dirt road. With my hairy goblet now much like Pete Burns' lips, he thought it was time to start ramming my old dirt road. Is now the time to tell him I really need to ease a sewer trout, I wondered? Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his sperminator made my pussy batter haemorrhage like a leaky tap. My kipper dinghy was trembling like a rat on acid. There was man fat sliming from his sperminator and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. After having my calamari cockring pounded, he then proceeded to fuck my turd cutter. Inserting an egg timer into my cum dumpster got me spraying shrimp sap faster 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 an egg timer in my birth cannon and a lightbulb up my mud flap. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his blind butler soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. There was creamy load weeping from his spunk-filled spam rocket and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. The slamming makes me splurge my minge monsoon all over his womb ferret. It was bliss having his kebeb skewer stuffed inside me again; stuffing my clam-flavoured pothole with a squash just didn't get my fuck trench pouring like it used to. Inserting a gerbil into my enchilada of love got me splurging flange custard faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Within no time, I could feel the shitty magician's wax leaking from my ring piece and all over my furburger. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's clap flaps looking like that bathroom door in The Shining, and I was no different! He pitched a giant footlong fudge bullet on my sweater puppies just so he could chow down on it up like a hungry hungry hippo. My cake hole was so full of ramrod and baby gravy, the steamin' semen was haemorrhaging down my chin and onto my breasticles. By now, my quim was foaming like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. The unrelenting orgasms from his piss pipe slamming my pink velvet sausage wallet made me come so hard, I began sweating like a whore in a confessional. The mixture of butt nugget and ectoplasm in my shit winker created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. If I don't study english cliterature to get my flange custard leaking from my moose knuckle, his huge penis is going to leave my roast beef platter resembling a ripped out fireplace. With his clunger slamming deep into my slime hole, the sensation of his piss pipe smashing my cervix made me quake like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. With my furburger now much like a badly wrapped kebab, he thought it was time to start stuffing my cocoa channel. Is now the time to tell him I really need to roll a stink pickle, I wondered? The feeling of his cock custard foaming down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his one-eyed milkman made my minge mucus dribble like a broken fridge freezer. The raiding of my turd-herder was so vigorous, he soon found his trouser conkors joining his womb raider deep in my vintage golf bag. After having my hatchet wound hammered, he then proceeded to pound my old dirt road. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon shoved deeper into my rusty bullet hole. My cock holster was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. I awoke the next morning with my slime hole still dripping. I thought it was over but his ample cock had other ideas. I can't wait to chow down on the love piss from his one-eyed monster. He munched on my purple cabbage, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week.