by Amy Woods
With my piss flaps now much like a bulldog in a windtunnel, he thought it was time to start plunging my poop chute. Is now the time to tell him I really need to extrude a toilet twinkie, I wondered? Within no time, I could feel the shitty gentleman's relish dribbling from my fudge factory and all over my fishy flaps. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his purple beaver buster made my beige slime seep like a slug in a salt mine. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's panty hamster looking like the south end of a badger going north, and I was no different! The slamming of my shit winker was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds joining his womb ferret deep in my turd-herder. It was bliss having his battering ram rammed inside me again; stuffing my hatchet wound with a 9-iron just didn't get my mound of love pudding spraying like it used to. The unrelenting orgasms from his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon hammering my clearing in the woods made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage. There was baby gravy sliming from his sperminator and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. When he removed his one-eyed monster from my turd cutter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a colon cobra staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the colon cobra off his one-eyed monster. With his battering ram fucking deep into my salmon slit, the sensation of his cunt stretcher smashing my cervix made me quake like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. He munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. I awoke the next morning with my ladytown still dribbling. I thought it was over but his brie baton had other ideas. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cumtree shoved deeper into my brown mile. I can't wait to consume the baby gravy from his mutton dagger. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and penis pudding in my brown eye created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. After having my chlamydia canal pounded, he then proceeded to hammer my chocolate starfish. He launched a giant butt nugget on my chesticles just so he could lap it up like a pig at a trough. If I don't tune the tuna to get my vertical moisture weeping from my clearing in the woods, his chorizo howitzer is going to leave my fishy flaps resembling a dropped burrito. My cake hole was so full of all-beef thermometer and creamy load, the creamy load was flowing down my chin and onto my droopies. My herring hole was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. The seemingly never-ending streams of Da Vinci load emanating from his spunk-filled spam rocket soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. 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 vibrator crater and a gerbil up my old dirt road. The pounding makes me gush my tuna tunnel tears all over his stilton sword. By now, my bearded haddock pasty was sliming like a leaky tap. The feeling of his magician's wax sliming down my throat got my sex wee flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit.
The raiding makes me spout my beige slime all over his stilton spear. My throat was so full of cunt stretcher and ectoplasm, the magician's wax was seeping down my chin and onto my rack. My tuna canal was trembling like a shitting dog. It was bliss having his purple-headed trouser snake stuffed inside me again; stuffing my vibration station with a number of chillies just didn't get my sperm socket squirting like it used to. He munched on my fishy flaps, even though I'd been on the rag for the best part of a week. Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his jebend made my clunge gunge flow like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. The unrelenting orgasms from his bald-headed yogurt slinger thrusting my shame portal made me come so hard, I began sweating like Gary glitter at PC World. He pinched off a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my mammaries just so he could suck it up like a hungry hungry hippo. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's purple cabbage looking like a stuntman's knee, and I was no different! With his ramrod pounding deep into my moose knuckle, the sensation of his all-beef thermometer smashing my cervix made me quiver like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. I can't wait to devour the gentleman's relish from his all-beef thermometer. There was penis pudding trickling from his cumtree and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. I awoke the next morning with my moose knuckle still seeping. I thought it was over but his chorizo howitzer had other ideas. The slamming of my cocoa channel was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his pink tractor beam deep in my shit winker. With my open-faced ham sandwich now much like a gutted trout, he thought it was time to start plunging my poo pipe. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pitch a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? By now, my municipal cockwash was oozing like a rabid dog. The mixture of colon cobra and love piss in my Oxo orifice created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his wensleydale wand soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Some girls are happy just to finger blast when they're alone, but I can't get off without having my fist in my carp cavity and a lightbulb up my rusty bullet hole. Inserting a squash into my wunder down under got me gushing minge monsoon 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 tallywacker stuffed deeper into my other vagina. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen trickling from my cocoa channel and all over my spam castanets. When he removed his Nelson's Column from my Oxo orifice, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the footlong fudge bullet off his blind butler. The feeling of his ectoplasm dribbling down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. After having my front bum pounded, he then proceeded to fuck my Oxo orifice.
When he removed his devil's bagpipe from my chocolate starfish, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the sewer trout off his one-eyed milkman. It was bliss having his spunk-filled spam rocket rammed inside me again; stuffing my penis pothole with a gerbil just didn't get my birth cannon gushing like it used to. 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 furry cup and my fist up my ring piece. The plowing of my brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his trouser conkors joining his mutton dagger deep in my other vagina. The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his disco stick soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My mouth was so full of huge penis and steamin' semen, the love piss was seeping down my chin and onto my mammaries. He pinched off a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my mammaries just so he could chow down on it up like a bulldog eating porridge. With my panty hamster now much like a rabid baboon's arse, he thought it was time to start stuffing my ring piece. Is now the time to tell him I really need to blast a stink pickle, I wondered? Inserting a lightbulb into my clunge pool got me pouring flange custard faster than snot off a whip. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's roast beef platter looking like a darts team's goalkeeper, and I was no different! If I don't fluff the muff to get my spaff foaming from my clam-flavoured pothole, his Nelson's Column is going to leave my beef curtains resembling a clown's pocket. I can't wait to devour the penis pudding from his slut slayer. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his flesh gordon made my beige slime dribble like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen leaking from my other vagina and all over my lunchmeat. The unrelenting orgasms from his tenderloin truncheon thrusting my wunder down under made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his wensleydale wand rammed deeper into my mud flap. The mixture of colon cobra and creamy load in my puckered brown eye created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. The thrusting makes me spritz my tuna tunnel tears all over his greasy kebab skewer. I awoke the next morning with my wunder down under still weeping. I thought i
t was over but his stilton sword had other ideas. He munched on my fishy flaps, even though I'd been on the rag for the best part of a week. By now, my spunk dungeon was trickling like a slavering dog. With his cumtree plowing deep into my south mouth, the sensation of his cunt stretcher smashing my cervix made me quiver like a shitting dog. My birth cannon was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. The feeling of his gentleman's relish haemorrhaging down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than snot off a whip. There was ectoplasm slobbering from his giggle stick and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more.
Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his batter blaster rammed deeper into my Oxo orifice. By now, my mound of love pudding was leaching like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his gristle missile made my beige slime seep like a hungry pig at a trough. If I don't flick the bean to get my minge monsoon draining from my whispering eye, his ample cock is going to leave my vertical smile resembling the Japanese flag. With my lunchmeat now much like a sand blasted tomato, he thought it was time to start sliding my tradesman's entrance. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cut a toilet twinkie, I wondered? It was bliss having his kebeb skewer rammed inside me again; stuffing my fuck gutter with a lightbulb just didn't get my ladytown spouting like it used to. My hot pocket was trembling like jelly. When he removed his love muscle from my chocolate starfish, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the Mr. Hanky off his giggle stick. He pinched off a giant butt nugget on my rack just so he could devour it up like a bulldog eating porridge. I awoke the next morning with my one slice toaster still flowing. I thought it was over but his tallywacker had other ideas. With his greasy slimelight slamming deep into my enchilada of love, the sensation of his flesh gordon smashing my cervix made me quake like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and man fat in my tradesman's entrance created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his tallywacker soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Inserting a number of chillies into my Quimcy, M.E. got me flowing tuna tunnel tears faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. After having my fuck gutter slammed, he then proceeded to pound my fudge factory. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's clap flaps looking like a manatee in yoga pants, and I was no different! My throat was so full of huge penis and ectoplasm, the man fat was dripping down my chin and onto my twin peaks. The feeling of his cock snot draining down my throat got my fallopian fish stock flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Within no time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm draining from my brown mile and all over my fishy flaps. I can't wait to chow down on the cock snot from his pink tractor beam. He munched on my meaty hangers, even though I'd been on the rag for the best part of a week. There was cock custard foaming from his timed slimer and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. The hammering of my brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his two amigos joining his stilton spear deep in my poo pipe. Some girls are happy just to tune the tuna when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a number of chillies in my ruby cave and a lightbulb up my turd-herder. The unrelenting orgasms from his cunt plunger fucking my whispering eye made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs.
He extruded a giant Mr. Hanky on my breasticles just so he could consume it up like a bulldog eating porridge. If I don't fluff the muff to get my fallopian fish stock flowing from my depravity cavity, his washington monument is going to leave my hairy goblet resembling a twisted slipper. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's spam castanets looking like a gutted trout, and I was no different! By now, my hot pocket was flowing like a hungry pig at a trough. Some girls are happy just to finger blast when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a gerbil in my furry cup and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my ring piece. I awoke the next morning with my south mouth still foaming. I thought it was over but his piss pipe had other ideas. Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his greasy kebab skewer made my minge monsoon ooze like a broken fridge freezer. The seemingly never-ending streams of penis pudding emanating from his Ocean's 11 Inches soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I can't wait to gobble the creamy load from his jebend. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my cod crater got me gushing minge monsoon faster than snot off a whip. When he removed his Ocean's 11 Inches from my Oxo orifice, he was pleasantly surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the corn-eyed butt snake off his throbbing quim dagger. The feeling of his love piss trickling down my throat got my beige slime flowing quicker than snot off a whip. There was Da Vinci load haemorrhaging from his blind butler and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. With my roast beef platter now much like a twisted slipper, he thought it was time to start sliding my black hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to launch a butt nugget, I wondered? After having my tuna canal fucked, he then proceeded to slam my Oxo orifice. My mouth was so full of piss pipe and man fat, the man fat was flowing down my chin and onto my mammaries. The pounding makes me spritz my sex wee all over his love muscle. The mixture of colon cobra and creamy load in my mud flap created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. My hot pocket was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat sliming from my turd-herder and all over my flappy meal. With his piss pipe thrusting deep into my smush mitten, the sensation of his turgid terror truncheon smashing my cervix made me quiver like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. The hammering of my rusty bullet hole was so vigorous, he soon found his hairy walnuts joining his jebend deep in my turd-herder. He munched on my roast beef platter, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. It was bliss having his greasy kebab skewer plunged inside me again; stuffing my frilling pink golf bag with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my carp cavity spritzing like it used to. The unrelenting orgasms from his spam javelin thrusting my tuna canal made me come so hard, I began sweating like a paedo during a prison riot.
My throat was so full of love lollipop and penis pudding, the Da Vinci load was leaking down my chin and onto my sweater puppies. Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his blue-veined custard chucker made my sex wee slobber like a jizz waterfall. He arced a giant hardened fudge nugget on my fiery biscuits just so he could lap it up like a pig at a trough. With his turgid terror truncheon fucking deep into my wizards sleeve, the sensation of his womb ferret smashing my cervix made me quake like a shitting dog. I can't wait to gobble the cock snot from his stilton sword. I awoke the next morning with my chlamydia canal still dribbling. I thought it was over but his wensleydale wand had other ideas. Some girls are happy just to audition the finger puppets when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an antique doorknob in my shamevelope and a number of chillies up my rusty sherif's badge. Inserting an antique doorknob into my stench trench got me spattering spaff faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. With my furburger now much like badly battered road kill, he thought it was time to start plunging my brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to curl a stink pickle, I wondered? The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and love piss in my mud flap created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. The unrelenting orgasms from his purple-headed trouser snake plowing my furry cup made me come so hard, I began sweating like a fat slag in a disco. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love mayonnaise trickling from my cocoa channel and all over my panty hamster. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his bald avenger shoved deeper into my fart valve. By now, my pink velvet sausage wallet was flowing like a leaky tap. The fucking makes me gush my tuna tunne
l tears all over his wensleydale wand. The slamming of my rusty sherif's badge was so vigorous, he soon found his clock weights joining his womb ferret deep in my shit winker. If I don't dial the rotary phone to get my sex wee slobbering from my wunder down under, his piss pipe is going to leave my spam castanets resembling a twisted slipper. He munched on my hairy goblet, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. When he removed his blind butler from my ring piece, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the hardened fudge nugget off his cunt plunger. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his meaty member soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's velcro triangle looking like a bulldog in a windtunnel, and I was no different! After having my carp cavity hammered, he then proceeded to slam my chocolate starfish. My enchilada of love was trembling like a shitting dog. The feeling of his cock snot dripping down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. It was bliss having his cumtree rammed inside me again; stuffing my stench trench with a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster just didn't get my herring hole spattering like it used to.