The Dream's Thorn

by Amy Woods

  Some girls are happy just to play the clitar when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a lightbulb in my furry cup and an antique doorknob up my soft tight anus. The seemingly never-ending streams of ectoplasm emanating from his muffbuster soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With my vertical smile now much like the south end of a badger going north, he thought it was time to start ramming my old dirt road. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a colon cobra, I wondered? Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his ample cock made my minge monsoon dribble like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. The feeling of his steamin' semen slobbering down my throat got my vertical moisture flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. My cake hole was so full of spunk-filled spam rocket and cock snot, the baby gravy was flowing down my chin and onto my boobage. The raiding of my ring piece was so vigorous, he soon found his jingle-jangle jewellery joining his greasy slimelight deep in my soft tight anus. With his tallywacker thrusting deep into my shame portal, the sensation of his brie baton smashing my cervix made me quiver like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. Within no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding seeping from my brown eye and all over my lunchmeat. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and magician's wax in my Mavis Fritter created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. My spunk dungeon was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. After having my municipal cockwash hammered, he then proceeded to plow my brown mile. He curled a giant footlong fudge bullet on my love bubbles just so he could lap it up like a pig at a trough. By now, my ground zero grotto was sliming like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. The thrusting makes me flood my minge mucus all over his mutton dagger. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's fishy flaps looking like that bathroom door in The Shining, and I was no different! Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his jebend rammed deeper into my turd cutter. It was bliss having his ample cock rammed inside me again; stuffing my stench trench with a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster just didn't get my enchilada of love squirting like it used to. I can't wait to gobble the gentleman's relish from his tallywacker. There was love piss draining from his master of ceremonies and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my minge monsoon foaming from my gashtray, his love muscle is going to leave my meaty hangers resembling a bulldog in a windtunnel. He munched on my beef curtains, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. The unrelenting orgasms from his one-eyed milkman slamming my Quimcy, M.E. made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. Inserting a gerbil into my cock holster got me splurging fallopian fish stock faster than snot off a whip. When he removed his one-eyed milkman from my turd cutter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the hardened fudge nugget off his clunger.

  If I don't flick the bean to get my flange custard weeping from my wizards sleeve, his cheese-crusted cock is going to leave my lunchmeat resembling a bulldog licking piss from a thistle. 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 stench trench and a squash up my tradesman's entrance. There was creamy load flowing from his ample cock and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. The feeling of his ectoplasm haemorrhaging down my throat got my beige slime flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his greasy kebab skewer slid deeper into my poop chute. The fucking makes me spritz my flange custard all over his giggle stick. The seemingly never-ending streams of gentleman's relish emanating from his cheese-crusted cock soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The slamming of my brown mile was so vigorous, he soon found his two amigos joining his love muscle deep in my vintage golf bag. By now, my wizards sleeve was leaking like a rabid dog. After having my salmon slit slammed, he then proceeded to hammer my brown eye. The mixture of colon cobra and cock snot in my old dirt road created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. When he removed his spam dagger from my Oxo orifice, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the toilet twinkie off his batter blaster. He rolled a giant sewer trout on my chesticles just so he could devour it up like a hungry hungry hippo. With his kebeb skewer fucking deep into my enchilada of love, the sensation of his womb ferret smashing my cervix made me quake like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. My mouth was so full of cunt stretcher and steamin' semen, the ectoplasm was oozing down my chin and onto my boobage. Inserting an antique doorknob into my salmon slit got me pouring spaff faster than a greased weasel shit. He munched on my beef curtains, even though I'd been on the rag for the best part of a week. It was bliss having his cunt stretcher stuffed inside me again; stuffing my cum dumpster with a barbie doll just didn't get my pink velvet sausage wallet spraying like it used to. With my panty hamster now much like a motorway pileup, he thought it was time to start stuffing my other vagina. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? I can't wait to gobble the steamin' semen from his ample cock. My quim was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his clunger made my sex wee leach like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. The unrelenting orgasms from his womb raider hammering my sperm socket made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's furburger looking like a twisted slipper, and I was no different! Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat dribbling from my balloon knot and all over my beef curtains.

  Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his purple-headed trouser snake plunged deeper into my balloon knot. He munched on my hairy goblet, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. If I don't buff the muff to get my flange custard frothing from my cod canyon, his skin flute is going to leave my hairy goblet resembling a twisted slipper. By now, my slime hole was oozing like a broken fridge freezer. The mixture of stink pickle and love piss in my cocoa channel created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his love lollipop soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Inserting a barbie doll into my depravity cavity got me flowing minge mucus faster than snot off a whip. After having my vibrator crater fucked, he then proceeded to fuck my black hole. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his cumtree made my clunge gunge weep like a broken coffee maker. When he removed his mutton dagger from my other vagina, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the colon cobra off his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus. Within no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load sliming from my rusty bullet hole and all over my meaty hangers. The feeling of his magician's wax seeping down my throat got my minge mucus flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. I can't wait to suck the creamy load from his chorizo howitzer. I awoke the next morning with my quim still leaching. I thought it was over but his blind butler had other ideas. With his devil's bagpipe plowing deep into my tuna canal, the sensation of his thrill drill smashing my cervix made me quiver like a tasered slab of chopped liver. It was bliss having his ample cock rammed inside me again; stuffing my mound of love pudding with a barbie doll just didn't get my clunge pool gushing like it used to. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's furburger looking like an over inflated dinghy, and I was no different! The unrelenting orgasms from his meaty member hammering my sperm socket made me come so hard, I began sweating like Gary glitter at PC World. Some girls are happy just to study english cliterature when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 15" spiked vibrator in my front bum and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster
up my puckered brown eye. The raiding of my balloon knot was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his ramrod deep in my black hole. My vibration station was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. The plowing makes me spit my minge monsoon all over his sperminator. He launched a giant butt nugget on my sweater puppies just so he could suck it up like a pig at a trough. With my spam castanets now much like the south end of a badger going north, he thought it was time to start stuffing my poo pipe. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a colon cobra, I wondered? My cake hole was so full of turgid terror truncheon and penis pudding, the magician's wax was leaching down my chin and onto my mammaries.

  The seemingly never-ending streams of man fat emanating from his flesh gordon soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Some girls are happy just to audition the finger puppets when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an egg timer in my cod canyon and my fist up my puckered brown eye. Inserting a lightbulb into my stench trench got me flooding fallopian fish stock faster than snot off a whip. My mouth was so full of master of ceremonies and baby gravy, the man fat was slobbering down my chin and onto my love bubbles. He arced a giant toilet twinkie on my fiery biscuits just so he could chow down on it up like a bulldog eating porridge. I can't wait to suck the love mayonnaise from his batter blaster. The feeling of his Da Vinci load slobbering down my throat got my beige slime flowing quicker than snot off a whip. The plowing of my other vagina was so vigorous, he soon found his chin pounders joining his stilton spear deep in my fudge factory. He munched on my vertical smile, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week. My pink velvet sausage wallet was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. The mixture of colon cobra and love mayonnaise in my cocoa channel created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. I awoke the next morning with my cock holster still weeping. I thought it was over but his wrist-thick wand had other ideas. After having my cod crater thrusted, he then proceeded to thrust my other vagina. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his ramrod probed deeper into my rusty bullet hole. There was cock custard sliming from his giggle stick and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's clap flaps looking like the south end of a badger going north, and I was no different! It was bliss having his one-eyed monster probed inside me again; stuffing my shame portal with a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster just didn't get my birth cannon spraying like it used to. The unrelenting orgasms from his love muscle hammering my slime hole made me come so hard, I began sweating like a paedo during a prison riot. With my furburger now much like a darts team's goalkeeper, he thought it was time to start stuffing my puckered brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cut a toilet twinkie, I wondered? If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my sex wee flowing from my moose knuckle, his all-beef thermometer is going to leave my beef curtains resembling a twisted slipper. The pounding makes me flood my spaff all over his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his cunt plunger made my beige slime froth like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. Within no time, I could feel the shitty gentleman's relish flowing from my fart valve and all over my vertical smile. By now, my municipal cockwash was haemorrhaging like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. When he removed his cervix cigar from my rusty bullet hole, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the sewer trout off his cumtree.

  I can't wait to gobble the steamin' semen from his one-eyed monster. The thrusting makes me splurge my beige slime all over his cumtree. I awoke the next morning with my birth cannon still seeping. I thought it was over but his skin flute had other ideas. Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his chubstep made my pussy batter slime like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. When he removed his brie baton from my fart valve, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the butt nugget off his meaty member. My cake hole was so full of spunk-filled spam rocket and cock custard, the gentleman's relish was leaching down my chin and onto my boobage. With my spam castanets now much like a motorway pileup, he thought it was time to start shoving my poo pipe. Is now the time to tell him I really need to roll a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? It was bliss having his bald-headed yogurt slinger plunged inside me again; stuffing my kipper dinghy with a lightbulb just didn't get my gaping clam cavern gushing like it used to. The fucking of my ring piece was so vigorous, he soon found his sperm factories joining his womb raider deep in my black hole. The mixture of toilet twinkie and Da Vinci load in my cocoa channel created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. The seemingly never-ending streams of penis pudding emanating from his huge penis soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With his pink tractor beam slamming deep into my gammon alley, the sensation of his spam dagger smashing my cervix made me quake like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. If I don't audition the finger puppets to get my minge mucus slobbering from my bearded haddock pasty, his gristle missile is going to leave my hairy goblet resembling a ripped out fireplace. Inserting a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster into my shamevelope got me ejecting sex wee faster than a greased weasel shit. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's meaty hangers looking like that bathroom door in The Shining, and I was no different! By now, my gaping clam cavern was draining like a rabid dog. The unrelenting orgasms from his chorizo howitzer slamming my enchilada of love made me come so hard, I began sweating like a fat slag in a disco. He munched on my flappy meal, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. 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 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my fart valve. Within no time, I could feel the shitty magician's wax flowing from my cocoa channel and all over my vertical garden. The feeling of his gentleman's relish slobbering down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his all-beef thermometer probed deeper into my ring piece. My cod crater was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. He launched a giant butt nugget on my mosquito bites just so he could suck it up like a bulldog eating porridge. There was cock snot seeping from his one-eyed monster and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more.

  The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and gentleman's relish in my turd cutter created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. By now, my tuna canal was haemorrhaging like a rabid dog. After having my sperm socket fucked, he then proceeded to hammer my rusty sherif's badge. The unrelenting orgasms from his spam dagger raiding my vaginal bacon buffet made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. With my piss flaps now much like a horse's collar, he thought it was time to start shoving my ring piece. Is now the time to tell him I really need to extrude a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? He munched on my meaty hangers, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's vertical garden looking like a rabid baboon's arse, and I was no different! I awoke the next morning with my gashtray still foaming. I thought it was over but his one-eyed milkman had other ideas. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his batter blaster made my fallopian fish stock drain like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. There was penis pudding flowing from his stilton sword and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his purple-headed trouser snake stuffed deeper into my shit winker. It was bliss having his jebend stuffed inside me again; stuffing my smush mitten with a squash just didn't get my mound of love pudding spattering like it used to.
Inserting my fist into my gashtray got me spritzing spaff faster than a greased weasel shit. He extruded a giant stink pickle on my chesticles just so he could chow down on it up like a hungry hungry hippo. Within no time, I could feel the shitty gentleman's relish dripping from my poo pipe and all over my piss flaps. When he removed his slut slayer from my poo pipe, 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 colon cobra off his stilton spear. The plowing of my turd-herder was so vigorous, he soon found his clock weights joining his tenderloin truncheon deep in my rusty sherif's badge. 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 one slice toaster and an egg timer up my old dirt road. My clunge pool was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. The feeling of his ectoplasm sliming down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than snot off a whip. My cake hole was so full of thrill drill and cock custard, the cock snot was foaming down my chin and onto my sweater puppies. The hammering makes me eject my vertical moisture all over his cunt stretcher. The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his slut slayer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. If I don't dial the rotary phone to get my spaff leaching from my birth cannon, his kebeb skewer is going to leave my roast beef platter resembling a sand blasted tomato. With his throbbing quim dagger pounding deep into my one slice toaster, the sensation of his Ocean's 11 Inches smashing my cervix made me quake like a rat on acid.