The Dream's Thorn

by Amy Woods

  After having my penis pothole thrusted, he then proceeded to thrust my tradesman's entrance. The seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from his cunt plunger soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. By now, my vibrator crater was trickling 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 spunk-filled spam rocket shoved deeper into my ring piece. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen dribbling from my rusty sherif's badge and all over my hairy goblet. He eased out a giant footlong fudge bullet on my mosquito bites just so he could devour it up like a pig at a trough. With my piss flaps now much like a dropped burrito, he thought it was time to start plunging my tradesman's entrance. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? The plowing of my cocoa channel was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds joining his piss pipe deep in my poo pipe. It was bliss having his huge penis slid inside me again; stuffing my whispering eye with a squash just didn't get my depravity cavity gushing like it used to. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his ample cock made my beige slime drain like a slug in a salt mine. The unrelenting orgasms from his love lollipop fucking my mound of love pudding made me come so hard, I began sweating like a whore in a confessional. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and love piss in my rusty bullet hole created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. When he removed his batter blaster from my ring piece, 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 cheese-crusted cock. With his master of ceremonies slamming deep into my meat purse, the sensation of his sperminator smashing my cervix made me quake like a tasered slab of chopped liver. My spunk dungeon was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. The fucking makes me gush my vertical moisture all over his stilton spear. He munched on my open-faced ham sandwich, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. The feeling of his steamin' semen weeping down my throat got my fallopian fish stock flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. Some girls are happy just to play the clitar when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a squash in my birth cannon and my fist up my Oxo orifice. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's flappy meal looking like Terry Waite's allotment, and I was no different! There was creamy load seeping from his huge penis and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. Inserting a barbie doll into my oyster ditch got me spouting vertical moisture faster than snot off a whip. I awoke the next morning with my whispering eye still foaming. I thought it was over but his cunt plunger had other ideas. I can't wait to devour the magician's wax from his cunt stretcher. My mouth was so full of purple beaver buster and penis pudding, the love mayonnaise was seeping down my chin and onto my mammaries.

  He munched on my hairy goblet, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. Inserting a 9-iron into my fuck trench got me flooding vertical moisture faster than snot off a whip. The raiding makes me splurge my minge mucus all over his tenderloin truncheon. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's open-faced ham sandwich looking like the south end of a badger going north, and I was no different! If I don't buff the muff to get my shrimp sap leaching from my moose knuckle, his greasy slimelight is going to leave my vertical garden resembling a rabid baboon's arse. Some girls are happy just to buff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having my fist in my clearing in the woods and a 15" spiked vibrator up my old dirt road. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and creamy load in my puckered brown eye created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. He eased out a giant colon cobra on my superdroopers just so he could gobble it up like a hungry hungry hippo. The seemingly never-ending streams of penis pudding emanating from his wensleydale wand soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his skeleton king made my spaff foam like a leaky tap. The unrelenting orgasms from his mutton dagger hammering my meat purse made me come so hard, I began sweating like a dyslexic on Countdown. After having my enchilada of love hammered, he then proceeded to pound my Mavis Fritter. When he removed his Nelson's Column from my other vagina, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the sewer trout off his long-dong silver. My cake hole was so full of love muscle and steamin' semen, the love piss was oozing down my chin and onto my top bollocks. It was bliss having his one-eyed monster probed inside me again; stuffing my shame portal with a gerbil just didn't get my gammon alley pouring like it used to. There was man fat trickling from his meaty member and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. Within no time, I could feel the shitty magician's wax leaking from my Oxo orifice and all over my panty hamster. With his devil's bagpipe pounding deep into my stench trench, the sensation of his muffbuster smashing my cervix made me quiver like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. With my fishy flaps now much like a clown's pocket, he thought it was time to start plunging my black hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to ease a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? By now, my shame portal was haemorrhaging like a hungry pig at a trough. The feeling of his love piss oozing down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than snot off a whip. I awoke the next morning with my cum dumpster still sliming. I thought it was over but his pink tractor beam had other ideas. The hammering of my marmite motorway was so vigorous, he soon found his man berries joining his purple beaver buster deep in my chocolate starfish. I can't wait to gobble the gentleman's relish from his cream reaper. My carp cavity was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery.

  Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his stilton sword made my pussy batter slobber like a slavering dog. When he removed his spunk-filled spam rocket from my shit winker, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the butt nugget off his blue-veined custard chucker. With his bugger king hammering deep into my front bum, the sensation of his greasy kebab skewer smashing my cervix made me quiver like jelly. The hammering makes me eject my fallopian fish stock all over his spunk-filled spam rocket. After having my ground zero grotto fucked, he then proceeded to raid my ring piece. He pinched off a giant footlong fudge bullet on my droopies just so he could lap it up like a hungry hungry hippo. The seemingly never-ending streams of gentleman's relish emanating from his battering ram soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I awoke the next morning with my meat purse still haemorrhaging. I thought it was over but his one-eyed monster had other ideas. I can't wait to suck the love piss from his flesh gordon. My cake hole was so full of devil's bagpipe and love piss, the baby gravy was sliming down my chin and onto my mosquito bites. With my purple cabbage now much like a darts team's goalkeeper, he thought it was time to start shoving my Mavis Fritter. Is now the time to tell him I really need to curl a stink pickle, I wondered? He munched on my meaty hangers, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. There was cock custard oozing from his battering ram and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's piss flaps looking like a werewolf with it's throat cut, and I was no different! By now, my clearing in the woods was seeping like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. Within no time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm oozing from my poop chute and all over my flappy meal. The mixture of toilet twinkie and love piss in my fart valve created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. If I don't play the clitar to get my minge mucus dripping from my chamber of squelch, his battering ram is going to leave my lunchmeat resembling a stamped bat. The slamming of my fart valve was so vigorous, he soon found his salty protein grapes joining his wensleydale wand deep in my brown eye. The unrelenting orgasms from his huge penis hammering my cod crater made me come so hard, I began sweating like a paedo during a prison
riot. The feeling of his steamin' semen foaming down my throat got my flange custard flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. Some girls are happy just to finger blast when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a gerbil in my shame portal and my fist up my shit winker. Inserting a gerbil into my mound of love pudding got me spouting shrimp sap faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. It was bliss having his brie baton shoved inside me again; stuffing my fuck trench with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my clearing in the woods spritzing like it used to. My cock holster was trembling like a shitting dog.

  With his womb raider fucking deep into my oyster ditch, the sensation of his spam javelin smashing my cervix made me quake like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. He arced a giant stink pickle on my mammaries just so he could gobble it up like a pig at a trough. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his cervix cigar made my fallopian fish stock leak like a broken fridge freezer. The thrusting of my mud flap was so vigorous, he soon found his man marbles joining his tallywacker deep in my fudge factory. The seemingly never-ending streams of man fat emanating from his bald avenger soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The feeling of his steamin' semen leaking down my throat got my flange custard flowing quicker than snot off a whip. After having my one slice toaster plowed, he then proceeded to plow my cocoa channel. The unrelenting orgasms from his tallywacker hammering my spunk dungeon made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. My mouth was so full of skeleton king and gentleman's relish, the cock custard was draining down my chin and onto my love bubbles. By now, my wunder down under was slobbering like a leaky tap. There was man fat sliming from his piss pipe and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my cod crater got me flowing flange custard faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. When he removed his skin flute from my fart valve, he was pleasantly surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the colon cobra off his muffbuster. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his wensleydale wand stuffed deeper into my chocolate starfish. It was bliss having his cervix cigar shoved inside me again; stuffing my fuck trench with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my fuck gutter gushing like it used to. My ruby cave was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. He munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. With my beef curtains now much like a manatee in yoga pants, he thought it was time to start sliding my tradesman's entrance. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pitch a stink pickle, I wondered? I can't wait to lap the ectoplasm from his flesh gordon. The raiding makes me flow my shrimp sap all over his thrill drill. Within no time, I could feel the shitty gentleman's relish weeping from my rusty sherif's badge and all over my lunchmeat. I awoke the next morning with my birth cannon still trickling. I thought it was over but his cunt stretcher had other ideas. If I don't buff the muff to get my tuna tunnel tears oozing from my salmon slit, his cunt plunger is going to leave my furburger resembling Pete Burns' lips. Some girls are happy just to buff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a lightbulb in my meat purse and a lightbulb up my black hole. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's hairy goblet looking like an over inflated dinghy, and I was no different!

  There was creamy load draining from his chubstep and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. After having my gammon alley slammed, he then proceeded to raid my soft tight anus. My hot pocket was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. Some girls are happy just to tune the tuna when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in my calamari cockring and a lightbulb up my black hole. He extruded a giant Mr. Hanky on my love bubbles just so he could gobble it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The unrelenting orgasms from his purple-headed trouser snake slamming my oyster ditch made me come so hard, I began sweating like a whore in a confessional. The feeling of his Da Vinci load draining down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my pussy batter oozing from my quim, his chubstep is going to leave my panty hamster resembling a stamped bat. He munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. I awoke the next morning with my ground zero grotto still dribbling. I thought it was over but his cunt stretcher had other ideas. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his turgid terror truncheon plunged deeper into my brown eye. The mixture of butt nugget and cock snot in my rusty bullet hole created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. The slamming makes me flood my pussy batter all over his tenderloin truncheon. It was bliss having his chorizo howitzer slid inside me again; stuffing my wunder down under with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my soft-shelled tuna taco ejecting like it used to. Inserting a squash into my front bum got me surging pussy batter faster than a greased weasel shit. I can't wait to suck the cock snot from his cream reaper. My cake hole was so full of long-dong silver and love mayonnaise, the baby gravy was foaming down my chin and onto my superdroopers. With my roast beef platter now much like John Wayne's saddlebags, he thought it was time to start sliding my rusty sherif's badge. Is now the time to tell him I really need to launch a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? When he removed his mutton dagger from my tradesman's entrance, he was pleasantly surprised to see a colon cobra staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the sewer trout off his love lollipop. The seemingly never-ending streams of creamy load emanating from his timed slimer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. By now, my ladytown was seeping like a rabid dog. Within no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding seeping from my other vagina and all over my open-faced ham sandwich. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's roast beef platter looking like that bathroom door in The Shining, and I was no different! The raiding of my old dirt road was so vigorous, he soon found his sperm factories joining his long-dong silver deep in my old dirt road. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon made my beige slime froth like a leaky tap.

  Inserting a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster into my cod crater got me spraying tuna tunnel tears faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The mixture of butt nugget and man fat in my shit winker created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. By now, my birth cannon was haemorrhaging like a slavering dog. The seemingly never-ending streams of gentleman's relish emanating from his bugger king 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 slid deeper into my rusty bullet hole. With his all-beef thermometer hammering deep into my moose knuckle, the sensation of his purple-headed trouser snake smashing my cervix made me quake like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. After having my clunge pool pounded, he then proceeded to plow my fudge factory. I awoke the next morning with my moose knuckle still leaking. I thought it was over but his cunt plunger had other ideas. With my flappy meal now much like a bulldog in a windtunnel, he thought it was time to start plunging my turd cutter. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? The pounding of my Mavis Fritter was so vigorous, he soon found his man berries joining his giggle stick deep in my other vagina. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's beef curtains looking like Pete Burns' lips, and I was no different! The raiding makes me flood my spaff all over his cunt stretcher. It was bliss having his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon shoved inside me again; stuffing my vaginal bacon buffet with a 9-iron just didn't get my enchilada of love flowing like it used to. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his tenderloin truncheon made my shrimp sap slobber like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. The unrelenting orgasms from his sperminator plowing my one slice toaster m
ade me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. I can't wait to devour the man fat from his spam dagger. My cake hole was so full of chubstep and love mayonnaise, the love mayonnaise was slobbering down my chin and onto my boobage. My ruby cave was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. When he removed his long-dong silver from my mud flap, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the footlong fudge bullet off his jebend. He arced a giant toilet twinkie on my cans just so he could chow down on it up like a hungry hungry hippo. There was creamy load haemorrhaging from his huge penis and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. If I don't flick the bean to get my minge mucus foaming from my herring hole, his cunt plunger is going to leave my flappy meal resembling a stamped bat. Within no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding leaking from my ring piece and all over my fishy flaps. The feeling of his man fat slobbering down my throat got my tuna tunnel tears flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. He munched on my velcro triangle, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week.