The Dream's Thorn

by Amy Woods

  If I don't audition the finger puppets to get my fallopian fish stock foaming from my ground zero grotto, his huge penis is going to leave my clap flaps resembling John Wayne's saddlebags. By now, my hot pocket was oozing like a leaky tap. The mixture of stink pickle and love piss in my cocoa channel created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cervix cigar slid deeper into my poo pipe. He munched on my meaty hangers, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. My mouth was so full of kebeb skewer and penis pudding, the penis pudding was leaching down my chin and onto my chesticles. The slamming of my mud flap was so vigorous, he soon found his hairy walnuts joining his all-beef thermometer deep in my fudge factory. I can't wait to devour the man fat from his pink tractor beam. There was cock custard slobbering from his brie baton and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his Ocean's 11 Inches made my sex wee ooze like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's meaty hangers looking like Brian May's plughole, and I was no different! The feeling of his man fat leaking down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than snot off a whip. When he removed his balony pony from my fart valve, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the colon cobra off his ample cock. Some girls are happy just to tune the tuna when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a squash in my bearded haddock pasty and a gerbil up my mud flap. It was bliss having his disco stick shoved inside me again; stuffing my tampon tunnel with a number of chillies just didn't get my penis pothole spraying like it used to. My pink velvet sausage wallet was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. After having my cod cave pounded, he then proceeded to hammer my puckered brown eye. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock custard sliming from my cocoa channel and all over my hairy goblet. With my lunchmeat now much like a hippo's yawn, he thought it was time to start ramming my Mavis Fritter. Is now the time to tell him I really need to ease a butt nugget, I wondered? I awoke the next morning with my wizards sleeve still dripping. I thought it was over but his mutton dagger had other ideas. He blasted a giant colon cobra on my mosquito bites just so he could chow down on it up like a pig at a trough. The seemingly never-ending streams of ectoplasm emanating from his timed slimer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The pounding makes me spout my shrimp sap all over his brie baton. Inserting a barbie doll into my cod canyon got me spraying pussy batter faster than snot off a whip. With his veiny quim prod fucking deep into my clearing in the woods, the sensation of his timed slimer smashing my cervix made me quake like a shitting dog.

  After having my quim hammered, he then proceeded to pound my puckered brown eye. The pounding of my fudge factory was so vigorous, he soon found his scroto baggins joining his love lollipop deep in my soft tight anus. There was Da Vinci load frothing from his tenderloin truncheon and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. He cut a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my rack just so he could consume it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The seemingly never-ending streams of creamy load emanating from his turgid terror truncheon soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. It was bliss having his disco stick shoved inside me again; stuffing my fuck gutter with a gerbil just didn't get my salmon slit spattering like it used to. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my vibrator crater got me gushing beige slime faster than a greased weasel shit. With his ramrod thrusting deep into my shamevelope, the sensation of his love muscle smashing my cervix made me quiver like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love mayonnaise draining from my turd-herder and all over my beef curtains. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his skeleton king stuffed deeper into my chocolate starfish. Some girls are happy just to get a stinky pinky when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a lightbulb in my frilling pink golf bag and a barbie doll up my ring piece. The unrelenting orgasms from his batter blaster pounding my tampon tunnel made me come so hard, I began sweating like a midget nun at a penguin shoot. The feeling of his steamin' semen seeping down my throat got my minge mucus flowing quicker than snot off a whip. My moose knuckle was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. I awoke the next morning with my one slice toaster still weeping. I thought it was over but his timed slimer had other ideas. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his one-eyed monster made my minge monsoon drain like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. By now, my gashtray was foaming like a hungry pig at a trough. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's beef curtains looking like the Japanese flag, and I was no different! I can't wait to lap the cock custard from his long-dong silver. He munched on my furburger, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. If I don't strum the banjo to get my flange custard dripping from my frilling pink golf bag, his stilton spear is going to leave my hairy goblet resembling a hippo's yawn. The thrusting makes me spray my sex wee all over his flesh gordon. The mixture of colon cobra and Da Vinci load in my marmite motorway created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. My cake hole was so full of chubstep and love piss, the love mayonnaise was seeping down my chin and onto my tatas. With my piss flaps now much like the south end of a badger going north, he thought it was time to start sliding my fart valve. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cut a butt nugget, I wondered?

  With my panty hamster now much like badly battered road kill, he thought it was time to start shoving my brown mile. Is now the time to tell him I really need to ease a toilet twinkie, I wondered? Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's panty hamster looking like a stamped bat, and I was no different! My cock holster was trembling like jelly. My mouth was so full of bald-headed yogurt slinger and cock custard, the cock snot was slobbering down my chin and onto my chest puppies. The plowing makes me pour my sex wee all over his spunk-filled spam rocket. Inserting a gerbil into my smush mitten got me spouting flange custard faster than a greased weasel shit. Some girls are happy just to tune the tuna when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a lightbulb in my sperm socket and a gerbil up my cocoa channel. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his spunk-filled spam rocket made my flange custard haemorrhage like a rabid dog. The feeling of his steamin' semen trickling down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Within no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load slobbering from my other vagina and all over my open-faced ham sandwich. After having my vaginal bacon buffet hammered, he then proceeded to plow my marmite motorway. By now, my gaping clam cavern was weeping like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. There was man fat leaching from his throbbing quim dagger and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. When he removed his mutton dagger from my shit winker, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the corn-eyed butt snake off his tallywacker. The seemingly never-ending streams of ectoplasm emanating from his cervix cigar soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. If I don't flick the bean to get my clunge gunge dribbling from my gaping clam cavern, his womb ferret is going to leave my spam castanets resembling a twisted slipper. It was bliss having his long-dong silver plunged inside me again; stuffing my clam-flavoured pothole with a barbie doll just didn't get my bearded haddock pasty gushing like it used to. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his spunk-filled spam rocket slid deeper into my turd cutter. The unrelenting orgasms from his long-dong silver fucking my wizards sleeve made me come so hard, I began sweating like Gary glitter at PC World. He munched on my clap flaps, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. He pitched a giant toil
et twinkie on my superdroopers just so he could suck it up like a pig at a trough. I awoke the next morning with my gaping clam cavern still haemorrhaging. I thought it was over but his battering ram had other ideas. With his gristle missile thrusting deep into my oyster ditch, the sensation of his ample cock smashing my cervix made me quiver like a tasered slab of chopped liver. I can't wait to gobble the steamin' semen from his batter blaster. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and baby gravy in my Mavis Fritter created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of.

  When he removed his one-eyed milkman from my fudge factory, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the butt nugget off his ample cock. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love piss trickling from my rusty sherif's badge and all over my lunchmeat. Inserting an antique doorknob into my carp cavity got me flooding shrimp sap faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. My throat was so full of cervix cigar and cock snot, the creamy load was leaking down my chin and onto my tatas. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon made my spaff drip like a slavering dog. The feeling of his creamy load draining down my throat got my beige slime flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. I awoke the next morning with my bearded haddock pasty still slobbering. I thought it was over but his tenderloin truncheon had other ideas. With his cunt stretcher thrusting deep into my enchilada of love, the sensation of his blue-veined custard chucker smashing my cervix made me quiver like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. If I don't finger blast to get my minge mucus oozing from my vibrator crater, his cumtree is going to leave my roast beef platter resembling a gutted trout. After having my ladytown thrusted, he then proceeded to fuck my soft tight anus. It was bliss having his muffbuster rammed inside me again; stuffing my tuna canal with a barbie doll just didn't get my mound of love pudding ejecting like it used to. The fucking makes me pour my vertical moisture all over his bald avenger. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his pink tractor beam shoved deeper into my old dirt road. By now, my herring hole was leaking like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. The fucking of my chocolate starfish was so vigorous, he soon found his family jewels joining his cunt plunger deep in my puckered brown eye. He blasted a giant toilet twinkie on my superdroopers just so he could chow down on it up like a pig at a trough. The mixture of toilet twinkie and love piss in my chocolate starfish created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. The unrelenting orgasms from his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus raiding my front bum made me come so hard, I began sweating like a white mouse in a tampon factory. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's roast beef platter looking like a manatee in yoga pants, and I was no different! With my beef curtains now much like a manatee in yoga pants, he thought it was time to start stuffing my fart valve. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cut a sewer trout, I wondered? Some girls are happy just to buff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a barbie doll in my herring hole and an antique doorknob up my poop chute. He munched on my vertical garden, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week. My shamevelope was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. I can't wait to devour the gentleman's relish from his greasy kebab skewer. There was steamin' semen weeping from his cheese-crusted cock and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more.

  I can't wait to consume the creamy load from his battering ram. By now, my cod crater was dripping like a slavering dog. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my wizards sleeve got me spritzing fallopian fish stock faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. With his blind butler raiding deep into my herring hole, the sensation of his mutton dagger smashing my cervix made me quiver like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. If I don't dial the rotary phone to get my beige slime trickling from my cod cave, his devil's bagpipe is going to leave my hairy goblet resembling Pete Burns' lips. I awoke the next morning with my fuck gutter still dribbling. I thought it was over but his turgid terror truncheon had other ideas. The unrelenting orgasms from his pink tractor beam plowing my clam-flavoured pothole made me come so hard, I began sweating like a fat slag in a disco. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his skeleton king made my shrimp sap drain like a slug in a salt mine. There was gentleman's relish haemorrhaging from his stilton sword and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. The fucking of my rusty bullet hole was so vigorous, he soon found his salty protein grapes joining his piss pipe deep in my soft tight anus. It was bliss having his womb raider stuffed inside me again; stuffing my clunge pool with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my tuna canal splurging like it used to. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his muffbuster slid deeper into my Oxo orifice. After having my vaginal bacon buffet pounded, he then proceeded to raid my chocolate starfish. My cake hole was so full of eight inches of throbbing pink jesus and love mayonnaise, the penis pudding was flowing down my chin and onto my cans. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's hairy goblet looking like a horse's collar, and I was no different! With my beef curtains now much like a dropped burrito, he thought it was time to start stuffing my other vagina. Is now the time to tell him I really need to roll a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? The raiding makes me squirt my shrimp sap all over his all-beef thermometer. The seemingly never-ending streams of love piss emanating from his brie baton soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He curled a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my superdroopers just so he could suck it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and cock snot in my rusty sherif's badge created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. He munched on my meaty hangers, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. 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 cock holster and a gerbil up my poop chute. My birth cannon was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. When he removed his tenderloin truncheon from my poop chute, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the stink pickle off his greasy slimelight. Within no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load oozing from my poop chute and all over my piss flaps.

  If I don't tune the tuna to get my spaff foaming from my fuck gutter, his giggle stick is going to leave my furburger resembling a stamped bat. My vaginal bacon buffet was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. He copped a giant footlong fudge bullet on my superdroopers just so he could chow down on it up like a hungry hungry hippo. Inserting a gerbil into my clunge pool got me gushing pussy batter faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. With his cream reaper hammering deep into my herring hole, the sensation of his stilton spear smashing my cervix made me quiver like a tasered slab of chopped liver. Within no time, I could feel the shitty baby gravy trickling from my puckered brown eye and all over my vertical garden. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's roast beef platter looking like a sand blasted tomato, and I was no different! He munched on my velcro triangle, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his turgid terror truncheon plunged deeper into my vintage golf bag. By now, my wizards sleeve was dribbling like a rabid dog. The feeling of his Da Vinci load sliming down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than snot off a whip. With my vertical smile now much like an over inflated dinghy, he thought it was time to start sliding my poo pipe. Is now the time to tell him I really need to extrude a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? It was bliss having his cervix cigar slid inside me again; stuffing my kipper dinghy with a barbie doll just didn't get my whispering eye flooding like it used to. The unrelenting orgasms from his washington monument hammering my enchilada of love made me come so hard, I began sweating like a wh
ore in a confessional. Some girls are happy just to stimulate the genitals through phalangetic motion when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 9-iron in my shamevelope and a gerbil up my fudge factory. My throat was so full of disco stick and creamy load, the cock snot was oozing down my chin and onto my love bubbles. The slamming makes me spout my fallopian fish stock all over his love lollipop. The seemingly never-ending streams of man fat emanating from his bugger king soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. After having my penis pothole pounded, he then proceeded to slam my balloon knot. The mixture of stink pickle and love piss in my old dirt road created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. There was cock snot draining from his tenderloin truncheon and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. The pounding of my cocoa channel was so vigorous, he soon found his kids on a swing joining his greasy slimelight deep in my other vagina. Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his ample cock made my vertical moisture trickle like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. I awoke the next morning with my cum dumpster still frothing. I thought it was over but his blue-veined custard chucker had other ideas. I can't wait to gobble the penis pudding from his veiny quim prod.