by Amy Woods
He eased out a giant butt nugget on my chesticles just so he could suck it up like a bulldog eating porridge. It was bliss having his chorizo howitzer probed inside me again; stuffing my cod canyon with a number of chillies just didn't get my furry cup gushing like it used to. If I don't buff the muff to get my tuna tunnel tears oozing from my furry cup, his chubstep is going to leave my velcro triangle resembling a dropped burrito. The mixture of butt nugget and steamin' semen in my vintage golf bag created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. The unrelenting orgasms from his love lollipop pounding my moose knuckle made me come so hard, I began sweating like a pregnant nun. I awoke the next morning with my clearing in the woods still leaking. I thought it was over but his veiny quim prod had other ideas. With his spam javelin raiding deep into my gammon alley, the sensation of his Ocean's 11 Inches smashing my cervix made me quake like a rat on acid. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's vertical smile looking like a manatee in yoga pants, and I was no different! My cake hole was so full of huge penis and gentleman's relish, the man fat was slobbering down my chin and onto my mammaries. Inserting a barbie doll into my stench trench got me pouring shrimp sap faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus made my shrimp sap haemorrhage like a rabid dog. After having my split peach pounded, he then proceeded to thrust my vintage golf bag. The raiding of my black hole was so vigorous, he soon found his man marbles joining his turgid terror truncheon deep in my fudge factory. There was steamin' semen weeping from his chubstep and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his long-dong silver slid deeper into my cocoa channel. By now, my tuna canal was flowing like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. With my lunchmeat now much like the south end of a badger going north, he thought it was time to start sliding my brown mile. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? Within no time, I could feel the shitty creamy load flowing from my marmite motorway and all over my meaty hangers. He munched on my flappy meal, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week. When he removed his timed slimer from my poop chute, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the Mr. Hanky off his long-dong silver. The feeling of his magician's wax sliming down my throat got my sex wee flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. The plowing makes me spray my minge monsoon all over his bugger king. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his master of ceremonies 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 number of chillies in my penis pothole and a squash up my fudge factory. I can't wait to chow down on the love mayonnaise from his long-dong silver.
The fucking makes me flood my pussy batter all over his balony pony. It was bliss having his greasy slimelight rammed inside me again; stuffing my kipper dinghy with a squash just didn't get my fuck gutter spraying like it used to. By now, my Quimcy, M.E. was frothing like a broken coffee maker. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and gentleman's relish in my brown mile created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his master of ceremonies made my fallopian fish stock leach like a hungry pig at a trough. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his bald avenger shoved deeper into my ring piece. There was man fat oozing from his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. 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 furry cup and a number of chillies up my chocolate starfish. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock snot seeping from my soft tight anus and all over my purple cabbage. My cake hole was so full of love muscle and creamy load, the man fat was seeping down my chin and onto my love bubbles. With his Nelson's Column plowing deep into my shame portal, the sensation of his ample cock smashing my cervix made me quiver like jelly. He munched on my flappy meal, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. He extruded a giant Mr. Hanky on my top bollocks just so he could suck it up like a bulldog eating porridge. When he removed his cheese-crusted cock from my Oxo orifice, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the butt nugget off his womb ferret. I can't wait to consume the cock custard from his thrill drill. Inserting a number of chillies into my gashtray got me splurging beige slime faster than snot off a whip. With my hairy goblet now much like a twisted slipper, he thought it was time to start stuffing my fudge factory. Is now the time to tell him I really need to roll a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? If I don't strum the banjo to get my clunge gunge foaming from my carp cavity, his cream reaper is going to leave my vertical smile resembling a hippo's yawn. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his balony pony soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The unrelenting orgasms from his pink tractor beam thrusting my stench trench made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. My meat purse was trembling like a shitting dog. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's open-faced ham sandwich looking like a horse's collar, and I was no different! After having my herring hole raided, he then proceeded to slam my rusty sherif's badge. I awoke the next morning with my vibrator crater still foaming. I thought it was over but his bald avenger had other ideas. The feeling of his love mayonnaise dribbling down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel.
Inserting a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster into my whispering eye got me pouring minge monsoon faster than a greased weasel shit. When he removed his devil's bagpipe from my soft tight anus, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the Mr. Hanky off his veiny quim prod. He munched on my vertical garden, even though I'd been on the rag for the best part of a week. By now, my front bum was oozing like a broken fridge freezer. My throat was so full of ramrod and cock snot, the love mayonnaise was dribbling down my chin and onto my rack. I can't wait to lap the cock snot from his blue-veined custard chucker. I awoke the next morning with my moose knuckle still leaking. I thought it was over but his chorizo howitzer had other ideas. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his piss pipe shoved deeper into my chocolate starfish. With his tenderloin truncheon fucking deep into my cod canyon, the sensation of his veiny quim prod smashing my cervix made me quake like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. The unrelenting orgasms from his wrist-thick wand raiding my gashtray made me come so hard, I began sweating like Mike Tyson at a spelling bee. After having my ground zero grotto hammered, he then proceeded to pound my black hole. With my beef curtains now much like a hippo's yawn, he thought it was time to start ramming my vintage golf bag. Is now the time to tell him I really need to launch a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? The seemingly never-ending streams of gentleman's relish emanating from his ramrod soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My shame portal was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. The feeling of his man fat flowing down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. There was gentleman's relish foaming from his all-beef thermometer and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. The raiding of my old dirt road was so vigorous, he soon found his chin pounders joining his jade rod deep in my soft tight anus. It was bliss having his Nelson's Column shoved inside me again; stuffing my ladytown with a lightbulb just didn't get my depravity cavity spraying like it used to. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's piss flaps looking like Pete Burns' lips, and I was no different! He copped a giant stink pickle on my rack just so he could chow down on it up like a pig at a trough. If I don
't finger blast to get my tuna tunnel tears dripping from my calamari cockring, his cervix cigar is going to leave my panty hamster resembling a sand blasted tomato. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his skin flute made my shrimp sap weep like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. Within no time, I could feel the shitty creamy load weeping from my poo pipe and all over my purple cabbage. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and cock custard in my turd-herder created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. The thrusting makes me eject my sex wee all over his throbbing quim dagger.
The unrelenting orgasms from his sperminator plowing my shame portal made me come so hard, I began sweating like a paedo during a prison riot. The raiding of my balloon knot was so vigorous, he soon found his jingle-jangle jewellery joining his wrist-thick wand deep in my turd cutter. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's piss flaps looking like a blind cobbler's thumb, and I was no different! I can't wait to devour the ectoplasm from his mutton dagger. It was bliss having his womb ferret plunged inside me again; stuffing my gashtray with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my soft-shelled tuna taco ejecting like it used to. When he removed his cervix cigar from my Mavis Fritter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the Mr. Hanky off his wensleydale wand. With his gristle missile slamming deep into my front bum, the sensation of his long-dong silver smashing my cervix made me quake like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. Within no time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm sliming from my balloon knot and all over my meaty hangers. The feeling of his love piss dripping down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. With my vertical garden now much like a darts team's goalkeeper, he thought it was time to start shoving my turd-herder. Is now the time to tell him I really need to arc a stink pickle, I wondered? If I don't tune the tuna to get my flange custard weeping from my ground zero grotto, his mutton dagger is going to leave my flappy meal resembling a manatee in yoga pants. My enchilada of love was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. Inserting a barbie doll into my furry cup got me flowing tuna tunnel tears faster than snot off a whip. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his one-eyed monster rammed deeper into my old dirt road. My cake hole was so full of spunk-filled spam rocket and cock snot, the baby gravy was dripping down my chin and onto my chesticles. There was man fat foaming from his timed slimer and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. He munched on my meaty hangers, even though I'd been on the rag for the best part of a week. He launched a giant colon cobra on my breasticles just so he could gobble it up like a hungry hungry hippo. By now, my front bum was leaking like a slavering dog. After having my one slice toaster fucked, he then proceeded to plow my mud flap. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus made my sex wee dribble like a jizz waterfall. Some girls are happy just to audition the finger puppets when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in my cum dumpster and a squash up my brown mile. I awoke the next morning with my ladytown still slobbering. I thought it was over but his chorizo howitzer had other ideas. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and magician's wax in my rusty bullet hole created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. The plowing makes me surge my tuna tunnel tears all over his cheese-crusted cock.
I can't wait to chow down on the love piss from his battering ram. He dropped a giant footlong fudge bullet on my breasticles just so he could devour it up like a bulldog eating porridge. When he removed his skin flute from my puckered brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the hardened fudge nugget off his piss pipe. Inserting my fist into my gaping clam cavern got me splurging minge monsoon faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. My moose knuckle was trembling like jelly. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and ectoplasm in my vintage golf bag created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. The raiding makes me gush my beige slime all over his spam dagger. If I don't audition the finger puppets to get my tuna tunnel tears trickling from my cum dumpster, his bald avenger is going to leave my roast beef platter resembling a horse's collar. The feeling of his creamy load leaking down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Some girls are happy just to fluff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an egg timer in my bearded haddock pasty and a lightbulb up my poo pipe. I awoke the next morning with my hatchet wound still dribbling. I thought it was over but his cervix cigar had other ideas. With his one-eyed monster hammering deep into my slime hole, the sensation of his thrill drill smashing my cervix made me quiver like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cunt plunger slid deeper into my puckered brown eye. The thrusting of my chocolate starfish was so vigorous, he soon found his salty protein grapes joining his stilton spear deep in my shit winker. My cake hole was so full of brie baton and love piss, the gentleman's relish was sliming down my chin and onto my twin peaks. The unrelenting orgasms from his thrill drill fucking my clearing in the woods made me come so hard, I began sweating like a pregnant nun. There was love piss foaming from his flesh gordon and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. Within no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding foaming from my puckered brown eye and all over my hairy goblet. By now, my meat purse was leaking like a slug in a salt mine. With my beef curtains now much like a bulldog licking piss from a thistle, he thought it was time to start shoving my soft tight anus. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a stink pickle, I wondered? Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his slut slayer made my vertical moisture haemorrhage like a leaky tap. He munched on my fishy flaps, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his timed slimer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. It was bliss having his slut slayer shoved inside me again; stuffing my gashtray with a gerbil just didn't get my bearded haddock pasty spraying like it used to. After having my municipal cockwash plowed, he then proceeded to pound my shit winker.
Some girls are happy just to dial the rotary phone when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a gerbil in my cod canyon and a barbie doll up my soft tight anus. The unrelenting orgasms from his veiny quim prod hammering my gashtray made me come so hard, I began sweating like a white mouse in a tampon factory. My throat was so full of turgid terror truncheon and Da Vinci load, the steamin' semen was flowing down my chin and onto my chesticles. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his greasy kebab skewer shoved deeper into my balloon knot. The raiding makes me squirt my pussy batter all over his bugger king. When he removed his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus from my cocoa channel, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the hardened fudge nugget off his spunk-filled spam rocket. I can't wait to suck the creamy load from his vein cane. After having my herring hole thrusted, he then proceeded to fuck my poo pipe. With my furburger now much like a stamped bat, he thought it was time to start ramming my rusty bullet hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to arc a toilet twinkie, I wondered? He crowned a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my chesticles just so he could consume it up like a bulldog eating porridge. I awoke the next morning with my penis pothole still foaming. I thought it was over but his sperminator had other ideas. Inserting a lightbulb into my vibrator crater got me spritzing sex wee faster than a greased weasel shit. With his all-beef thermometer hammering deep into my oyster ditch, the sensation of his sperminator smashing my cervix made me quake like jelly. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's hairy goblet looking like a hippo's yawn, and I was no different! There was magician's wax trickling f
rom his skeleton king and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. The feeling of his penis pudding haemorrhaging down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Within no time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm draining from my old dirt road and all over my velcro triangle. My salmon slit was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. The mixture of toilet twinkie and magician's wax in my shit winker created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his batter blaster 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 turgid terror truncheon made my shrimp sap flow like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. The raiding of my balloon knot was so vigorous, he soon found his salty protein grapes joining his skeleton king deep in my marmite motorway. By now, my smush mitten was oozing like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. If I don't finger blast to get my minge monsoon frothing from my shame portal, his balony pony is going to leave my hairy goblet resembling a bulldog in a windtunnel. He munched on my clap flaps, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week.