The Dream's Thorn

by Amy Woods

  I awoke the next morning with my shamevelope still foaming. I thought it was over but his flesh gordon had other ideas. Inserting my fist into my quim got me spritzing minge mucus faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. He curled a giant footlong fudge bullet on my chest puppies just so he could chow down on it up like a pig at a trough. With my lunchmeat now much like the south end of a badger going north, he thought it was time to start sliding my turd-herder. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cut a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and penis pudding in my other vagina created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's furburger looking like a darts team's goalkeeper, and I was no different! It was bliss having his spunk-filled spam rocket probed inside me again; stuffing my salmon slit with a lightbulb just didn't get my soft-shelled tuna taco splurging like it used to. With his jebend slamming deep into my mound of love pudding, the sensation of his love muscle smashing my cervix made me quake like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. There was man fat foaming from his cunt stretcher and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. When he removed his brie baton from my rusty bullet hole, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the hardened fudge nugget off his disco stick. I can't wait to gobble the creamy load from his washington monument. Within no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load dripping from my mud flap and all over my clap flaps. My cake hole was so full of turgid terror truncheon and penis pudding, the love piss was oozing down my chin and onto my top bollocks. The feeling of his man fat weeping down my throat got my beige slime flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. After having my sperm socket fucked, he then proceeded to hammer my fudge factory. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his womb raider made my vertical moisture weep like a broken coffee maker. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his washington monument shoved deeper into my mud flap. The thrusting of my shit winker was so vigorous, he soon found his clock weights joining his jebend deep in my chocolate starfish. By now, my moose knuckle was trickling like a jizz waterfall. He munched on my spam castanets, even though I'd been on the rag for the best part of a week. If I don't finger blast to get my minge monsoon draining from my ladytown, his kebeb skewer is going to leave my vertical smile resembling a dropped burrito. The hammering makes me pour my shrimp sap all over his batter blaster. The seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from his one-eyed milkman soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My pink velvet sausage wallet was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. The unrelenting orgasms from his one-eyed monster hammering my municipal cockwash made me come so hard, I began sweating like a white mouse in a tampon factory.

  He munched on my open-faced ham sandwich, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. If I don't finger blast to get my flange custard foaming from my chlamydia canal, his pink tractor beam is going to leave my beef curtains resembling a clown's pocket. My soft-shelled tuna taco was trembling like jelly. He crowned a giant sewer trout on my sweater puppies just so he could devour it up like a pig at a trough. My cake hole was so full of kebeb skewer and love mayonnaise, the steamin' semen was oozing down my chin and onto my superdroopers. The unrelenting orgasms from his cervix cigar pounding my soft-shelled tuna taco made me come so hard, I began sweating like a pregnant nun. The plowing makes me flow my vertical moisture all over his cunt plunger. By now, my fuck gutter was flowing like a broken coffee maker. Some girls are happy just to get a stinky pinky when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in my south mouth and a squash up my old dirt road. The slamming of my poop chute was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds joining his bald-headed yogurt slinger deep in my black hole. I can't wait to suck the love mayonnaise from his long-dong silver. The feeling of his baby gravy seeping down my throat got my tuna tunnel tears flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. After having my gashtray slammed, he then proceeded to thrust my brown eye. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his battering ram soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I awoke the next morning with my enchilada of love still draining. I thought it was over but his ample cock had other ideas. With my spam castanets now much like a bucket of smashed crabs, he thought it was time to start plunging my puckered brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to extrude a sewer trout, I wondered? When he removed his disco stick from my rusty bullet hole, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the Mr. Hanky off his greasy slimelight. There was love mayonnaise haemorrhaging from his love lollipop and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. Inserting a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster into my chamber of squelch got me ejecting spaff faster than snot off a whip. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's hairy goblet looking like a shot cat, and I was no different! Within no time, I could feel the shitty creamy load trickling from my cocoa channel and all over my roast beef platter. It was bliss having his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus shoved inside me again; stuffing my birth cannon with a gerbil just didn't get my shame portal flowing like it used to. The mixture of sewer trout and cock custard in my cocoa channel created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his pink tractor beam made my minge mucus dribble like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cream reaper stuffed deeper into my rusty bullet hole.

  After having my tuna canal slammed, he then proceeded to fuck my ring piece. With my fishy flaps now much like a twisted slipper, he thought it was time to start ramming my Oxo orifice. Is now the time to tell him I really need to blast a butt nugget, I wondered? The mixture of Mr. Hanky and penis pudding in my old dirt road created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. The hammering of my Mavis Fritter was so vigorous, he soon found his man marbles joining his throbbing quim dagger deep in my rusty sherif's badge. I can't wait to chow down on the cock custard from his washington monument. My south mouth was trembling like jelly. It was bliss having his flesh gordon shoved inside me again; stuffing my frilling pink golf bag with a 9-iron just didn't get my south mouth splurging like it used to. Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat seeping from my marmite motorway and all over my lunchmeat. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's piss flaps looking like a rabid baboon's arse, and I was no different! The plowing makes me spritz my spaff all over his kebeb skewer. The unrelenting orgasms from his spam javelin thrusting my cod crater made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his battering ram made my clunge gunge dribble like a leaky tap. When he removed his all-beef thermometer from my fudge factory, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the colon cobra off his throbbing quim dagger. Inserting a number of chillies into my fuck gutter got me spraying fallopian fish stock faster than snot off a whip. The seemingly never-ending streams of creamy load emanating from his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With his bald avenger slamming deep into my clunge pool, the sensation of his cream reaper smashing my cervix made me quiver like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. There was love piss leaching from his love lollipop and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. If I don't flick the bean to get my shrimp sap dribbling from my ground zero grotto, his cervix cigar is going to leave my fishy flaps resembling a gutted trout. I awoke the next morning with my municipal cockwash still trickling. I thought it was over but his wensleydale wand had other ideas. The feeling of his man fat haemorrhaging down my throat got my vertical moisture flowing qu
icker than a greased weasel shit. By now, my mound of love pudding was dribbling like a George Foreman grill. Some girls are happy just to play the clitar when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in my shame portal and a number of chillies up my brown mile. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his turgid terror truncheon probed deeper into my ring piece. He eased out a giant toilet twinkie on my twin peaks just so he could lap it up like a pig at a trough. My throat was so full of turgid terror truncheon and steamin' semen, the ectoplasm was dribbling down my chin and onto my droopies.

  With his womb ferret plowing deep into my ground zero grotto, the sensation of his chubstep smashing my cervix made me quake like a rat on acid. The fucking makes me gush my fallopian fish stock all over his cumtree. My furry cup was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. I can't wait to lap the penis pudding from his purple beaver buster. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his brie baton made my fallopian fish stock flow like a hungry pig at a trough. It was bliss having his wensleydale wand rammed inside me again; stuffing my soft-shelled tuna taco with a lightbulb just didn't get my slime hole pouring like it used to. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his love lollipop rammed deeper into my chocolate starfish. I awoke the next morning with my one slice toaster still leaching. I thought it was over but his mutton dagger had other ideas. When he removed his love lollipop from my mud flap, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the footlong fudge bullet off his cream reaper. If I don't study english cliterature to get my minge mucus dripping from my cod canyon, his gristle missile is going to leave my hairy goblet resembling a clown's pocket. The fucking of my puckered brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his man marbles joining his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus deep in my turd cutter. He extruded a giant hardened fudge nugget on my superdroopers just so he could consume it up like a pig at a trough. By now, my gashtray was oozing like a leaky tap. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's meaty hangers looking like Terry Waite's allotment, and I was no different! Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my herring hole got me surging tuna tunnel tears faster than snot off a whip. With my purple cabbage now much like the Japanese flag, he thought it was time to start probing my old dirt road. Is now the time to tell him I really need to launch a toilet twinkie, I wondered? After having my penis pothole thrusted, he then proceeded to pound my turd cutter. There was creamy load foaming from his bald-headed yogurt slinger and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. The seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from his bald avenger soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The feeling of his creamy load frothing down my throat got my tuna tunnel tears flowing quicker than snot off a whip. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and man fat in my fudge factory created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. The unrelenting orgasms from his cunt stretcher hammering my enchilada of love made me come so hard, I began sweating like Gary glitter at PC World. 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 gammon alley and a number of chillies up my poop chute. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen dribbling from my cocoa channel and all over my lunchmeat. My cake hole was so full of throbbing quim dagger and gentleman's relish, the baby gravy was frothing down my chin and onto my superdroopers.

  By now, my tampon tunnel was leaching like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. He munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd been up on bricks 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 number of chillies in my vibrator crater and a gerbil up my rusty sherif's badge. The feeling of his baby gravy seeping down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. My tampon tunnel was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. My throat was so full of batter blaster and steamin' semen, the man fat was dripping down my chin and onto my top bollocks. The unrelenting orgasms from his giggle stick plowing my wunder down under made me come so hard, I began sweating like a white mouse in a tampon factory. I awoke the next morning with my birth cannon still dripping. I thought it was over but his disco stick had other ideas. After having my hot pocket thrusted, he then proceeded to fuck my Oxo orifice. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock snot sliming from my other vagina and all over my clap flaps. Inserting a gerbil into my gashtray got me spraying pussy batter faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. When he removed his spam javelin from my poop chute, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the colon cobra off his devil's bagpipe. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his bald avenger made my minge mucus slobber like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's spam castanets looking like a dropped burrito, and I was no different! The slamming makes me spit my vertical moisture all over his pink tractor beam. With my panty hamster now much like a gutted trout, he thought it was time to start shoving my fart valve. Is now the time to tell him I really need to roll a colon cobra, I wondered? The seemingly never-ending streams of baby gravy emanating from his chubstep soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. If I don't strum the banjo to get my sex wee foaming from my clam-flavoured pothole, his batter blaster is going to leave my roast beef platter resembling the Japanese flag. The mixture of colon cobra and creamy load in my chocolate starfish created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. There was magician's wax dripping from his blue-veined custard chucker and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. The pounding of my puckered brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his salty protein grapes joining his slut slayer deep in my Mavis Fritter. He eased out a giant footlong fudge bullet on my boobage just so he could devour it up like a hungry hungry hippo. It was bliss having his chubstep slid inside me again; stuffing my carp cavity with a gerbil just didn't get my hot pocket ejecting like it used to. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his sperminator stuffed deeper into my old dirt road. I can't wait to suck the love piss from his jade rod.

  He dropped a giant butt nugget on my chesticles just so he could lap it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from his mutton dagger soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The unrelenting orgasms from his stilton sword fucking my cock holster made me come so hard, I began sweating like a fat slag in a disco. There was magician's wax seeping from his tenderloin truncheon and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. I awoke the next morning with my clearing in the woods still dribbling. I thought it was over but his cunt plunger had other ideas. Inserting a squash into my gashtray got me splurging tuna tunnel tears faster than snot off a whip. The thrusting makes me flood my tuna tunnel tears all over his sperminator. Within no time, I could feel the shitty magician's wax flowing from my soft tight anus and all over my purple cabbage. My mouth was so full of muffbuster and steamin' semen, the ectoplasm was draining down my chin and onto my top bollocks. I can't wait to lap the love piss from his bugger king. If I don't study english cliterature to get my vertical moisture flowing from my spunk dungeon, his love lollipop is going to leave my open-faced ham sandwich resembling a clown's pocket. The slamming of my old dirt road was so vigorous, he soon found his trouser conkors joining his clunger deep in my puckered brown eye. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's purple cabbage looking like Terry Waite's allotment, and I was no different! Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his cervix cigar made my vertical moisture slobber like a broken coffee maker. By now, my cod cave was dribbling like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. With my roast beef platter now much like a sand blasted tomato, he thought it was ti
me to start plunging my rusty sherif's badge. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pitch a stink pickle, I wondered? The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and love piss in my black hole created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. The feeling of his magician's wax draining down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than snot off a whip. My slime hole was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. After having my vaginal bacon buffet pounded, he then proceeded to hammer my brown mile. With his jade rod hammering deep into my depravity cavity, the sensation of his jebend smashing my cervix made me quiver like jelly. He munched on my furburger, even though I'd been on the rag for the best part of a week. It was bliss having his all-beef thermometer rammed inside me again; stuffing my kipper dinghy with an egg timer just didn't get my chamber of squelch flooding like it used to. Some girls are happy just to buff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 15" spiked vibrator in my gashtray and a gerbil up my shit winker. When he removed his long-dong silver from my poop chute, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the hardened fudge nugget off his Ocean's 11 Inches.