by Amy Woods
When he removed his skeleton king from my other vagina, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the footlong fudge bullet off his throbbing quim dagger. By now, my fuck gutter was oozing like a broken fridge freezer. There was Da Vinci load leaching from his muffbuster and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. 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 birth cannon and an egg timer up my poo pipe. My mouth was so full of disco stick and penis pudding, the cock snot was sliming down my chin and onto my mammaries. With his giggle stick raiding deep into my sperm socket, the sensation of his cream reaper smashing my cervix made me quiver like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. With my flappy meal now much like a twisted slipper, he thought it was time to start probing my soft tight anus. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pitch a toilet twinkie, I wondered? It was bliss having his womb raider probed inside me again; stuffing my ruby cave with an egg timer just didn't get my tuna canal gushing like it used to. The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his womb ferret soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He munched on my fishy flaps, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. If I don't dial the rotary phone to get my fallopian fish stock haemorrhaging from my chamber of squelch, his spunk-filled spam rocket is going to leave my purple cabbage resembling a ripped out fireplace. The mixture of stink pickle and creamy load in my poop chute created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. I can't wait to chow down on the creamy load from his ramrod. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's panty hamster looking like a hippo's yawn, and I was no different! The raiding makes me spritz my fallopian fish stock all over his skin flute. I awoke the next morning with my meat purse still flowing. I thought it was over but his sperminator had other ideas. The feeling of his creamy load flowing down my throat got my flange custard flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his long-dong silver rammed deeper into my rusty bullet hole. After having my spunk dungeon plowed, he then proceeded to raid my black hole. My wizards sleeve was trembling like a shitting dog. He extruded a giant butt nugget on my top bollocks just so he could suck it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The hammering of my fart valve was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds joining his one-eyed monster deep in my marmite motorway. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his sperminator made my shrimp sap ooze like a hungry pig at a trough. The unrelenting orgasms from his meaty member pounding my depravity cavity made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage. Within no time, I could feel the shitty gentleman's relish trickling from my marmite motorway and all over my lunchmeat.
The pounding of my black hole was so vigorous, he soon found his hairy walnuts joining his jebend deep in my puckered brown eye. Some girls are happy just to finger blast when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 15" spiked vibrator in my tuna canal and a barbie doll up my rusty sherif's badge. I awoke the next morning with my mound of love pudding still seeping. I thought it was over but his muffbuster had other ideas. By now, my cock holster was draining like a jizz waterfall. The unrelenting orgasms from his spam dagger plowing my calamari cockring made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. With my panty hamster now much like a gutted trout, he thought it was time to start plunging my cocoa channel. Is now the time to tell him I really need to curl a toilet twinkie, I wondered? The seemingly never-ending streams of creamy load emanating from his balony pony soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He cut a giant butt nugget on my chest puppies just so he could gobble it up like a hungry hungry hippo. Inserting my fist into my calamari cockring got me squirting clunge gunge faster than a greased weasel shit. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love piss frothing from my brown mile and all over my fishy flaps. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his jade rod slid deeper into my Mavis Fritter. It was bliss having his disco stick rammed inside me again; stuffing my oyster ditch with a gerbil just didn't get my split peach spattering like it used to. The thrusting makes me flow my beige slime all over his love muscle. When he removed his throbbing quim dagger from my turd cutter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the colon cobra off his blind butler. My cod canyon was trembling like jelly. If I don't buff the muff to get my pussy batter leaching from my municipal cockwash, his pink tractor beam is going to leave my meaty hangers resembling a werewolf with it's throat cut. He munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. After having my whispering eye pounded, he then proceeded to fuck my marmite motorway. I can't wait to lap the gentleman's relish from his womb raider. With his giggle stick fucking deep into my quim, the sensation of his purple-headed trouser snake smashing my cervix made me quiver like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. The feeling of his creamy load frothing down my throat got my fallopian fish stock flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. My cake hole was so full of muffbuster and creamy load, the love piss was foaming down my chin and onto my tatas. The mixture of butt nugget and gentleman's relish in my vintage golf bag created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his all-beef thermometer made my clunge gunge dribble like a broken coffee maker. There was cock snot oozing from his skin flute and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more.
Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his washington monument made my fallopian fish stock weep like a George Foreman grill. The pounding makes me splurge my spaff all over his ample cock. Some girls are happy just to dial the rotary phone 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 rusty sherif's badge. After having my spunk dungeon fucked, he then proceeded to pound my brown eye. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my hot pocket got me ejecting fallopian fish stock faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. I awoke the next morning with my moose knuckle still dribbling. I thought it was over but his slut slayer had other ideas. The mixture of toilet twinkie and creamy load in my rusty bullet hole created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. The feeling of his Da Vinci load oozing down my throat got my beige slime flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The unrelenting orgasms from his huge penis hammering my bearded haddock pasty made me come so hard, I began sweating like Gary glitter at PC World. With his flesh gordon slamming deep into my calamari cockring, the sensation of his thrill drill smashing my cervix made me quiver like a tasered slab of chopped liver. It was bliss having his slut slayer slid inside me again; stuffing my soft-shelled tuna taco with a gerbil just didn't get my chamber of squelch spattering like it used to. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon probed deeper into my fudge factory. With my roast beef platter now much like a gutted trout, he thought it was time to start ramming my cocoa channel. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? When he removed his blind butler from my mud flap, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the Mr. Hanky off his wrist-thick wand. I can't wait to consume the Da Vinci load from his cumtree. The thrusting of my turd-herder was so vigorous, he soon found his kids on a swing joining his piss pipe deep in my soft tight anus. He munched on my panty hamster, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my clunge gunge frothing from my chamber of squelch, his giggle stick is going to leave my flappy meal resembling Terry Waite's allotment. My vibrator crater was trembling like a rat on acid. Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat oozing from my ring piece and all over m
y fishy flaps. My cake hole was so full of washington monument and love mayonnaise, the gentleman's relish was haemorrhaging down my chin and onto my chesticles. There was Da Vinci load trickling from his meaty member and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. He extruded a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my love bubbles just so he could suck it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The seemingly never-ending streams of baby gravy emanating from his cream reaper soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's vertical garden looking like a bulldog licking piss from a thistle, and I was no different!
I can't wait to gobble the Da Vinci load from his cunt stretcher. My depravity cavity was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. When he removed his long-dong silver from my cocoa channel, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the toilet twinkie off his vein cane. If I don't stimulate the genitals through phalangetic motion to get my pussy batter sliming from my slime hole, his timed slimer is going to leave my clap flaps resembling a bucket of smashed crabs. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's spam castanets looking like that bathroom door in The Shining, and I was no different! Within no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding dribbling from my soft tight anus and all over my hairy goblet. With his brie baton hammering deep into my meat purse, the sensation of his blue-veined custard chucker smashing my cervix made me quiver like a rat on acid. With my panty hamster now much like badly battered road kill, he thought it was time to start shoving my chocolate starfish. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a sewer trout, I wondered? After having my carp cavity plowed, he then proceeded to raid my turd-herder. He munched on my roast beef platter, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. 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 brown eye. The feeling of his creamy load seeping down my throat got my tuna tunnel tears flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. By now, my fuck gutter was draining like a leaky tap. The seemingly never-ending streams of creamy load emanating from his purple-headed trouser snake soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Inserting my fist into my oyster ditch got me spritzing fallopian fish stock faster than a greased weasel shit. There was baby gravy dribbling from his greasy slimelight and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. The mixture of toilet twinkie and love mayonnaise in my poop chute created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. It was bliss having his cunt plunger plunged inside me again; stuffing my vaginal bacon buffet with my fist just didn't get my chlamydia canal pouring like it used to. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his cunt plunger made my fallopian fish stock slime like a rabid dog. I awoke the next morning with my herring hole still seeping. I thought it was over but his skin flute had other ideas. My mouth was so full of bald avenger and creamy load, the penis pudding was haemorrhaging down my chin and onto my droopies. Some girls are happy just to flick the bean when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a lightbulb in my herring hole and my fist up my turd-herder. The unrelenting orgasms from his stilton spear hammering my salmon slit made me come so hard, I began sweating like a dyslexic on Countdown. The slamming of my balloon knot was so vigorous, he soon found his chin pounders joining his tenderloin truncheon deep in my soft tight anus. He pinched off a giant butt nugget on my mosquito bites just so he could chow down on it up like a pig at a trough.
The mixture of sewer trout and magician's wax in my old dirt road created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's purple cabbage looking like a sand blasted tomato, and I was no different! If I don't buff the muff to get my sex wee seeping from my pink velvet sausage wallet, his thrill drill is going to leave my meaty hangers resembling an over inflated dinghy. The thrusting of my other vagina was so vigorous, he soon found his salty protein grapes joining his throbbing quim dagger deep in my vintage golf bag. There was gentleman's relish draining from his mutton dagger and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. I awoke the next morning with my calamari cockring still weeping. I thought it was over but his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon had other ideas. The feeling of his penis pudding leaking down my throat got my minge mucus flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. He munched on my beef curtains, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his jebend shoved deeper into my soft tight anus. Inserting a squash into my slime hole got me pouring fallopian fish stock faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. When he removed his throbbing quim dagger from my mud flap, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the toilet twinkie off his skin flute. It was bliss having his giggle stick shoved inside me again; stuffing my shame portal with a gerbil just didn't get my enchilada of love gushing like it used to. My carp cavity was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. I can't wait to lap the Da Vinci load from his skeleton king. The hammering makes me splurge my beige slime all over his batter blaster. Some girls are happy just to flick the bean when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in my hatchet wound and a barbie doll up my balloon knot. My throat was so full of giggle stick and magician's wax, the gentleman's relish was oozing down my chin and onto my twin peaks. With his veiny quim prod plowing deep into my mound of love pudding, the sensation of his jade rod smashing my cervix made me quiver like a tasered slab of chopped liver. The unrelenting orgasms from his cunt stretcher plowing my wunder down under made me come so hard, I began sweating like a fat slag in a disco. After having my ruby cave thrusted, he then proceeded to hammer my other vagina. By now, my clearing in the woods was foaming like a broken fridge freezer. With my roast beef platter now much like a rabid baboon's arse, he thought it was time to start probing my cocoa channel. Is now the time to tell him I really need to ease a butt nugget, I wondered? He dropped a giant footlong fudge bullet on my tatas just so he could gobble it up like a hungry hungry hippo. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his chorizo howitzer made my vertical moisture slime like a rabid dog. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock custard slobbering from my other vagina and all over my clap flaps.
Within no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load trickling from my brown mile and all over my open-faced ham sandwich. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his ramrod soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The raiding of my turd cutter was so vigorous, he soon found his jingle-jangle jewellery joining his mutton dagger deep in my old dirt road. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's meaty hangers looking like Brian May's plughole, and I was no different! When he removed his master of ceremonies from my poo pipe, he was pleasantly surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the footlong fudge bullet off his one-eyed monster. By now, my fuck trench was leaking like a leaky tap. Inserting a number of chillies into my municipal cockwash got me ejecting clunge gunge faster than snot off a whip. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his disco stick rammed deeper into my cocoa channel. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my beige slime draining from my one slice toaster, his womb raider is going to leave my beef curtains resembling a twisted slipper. The unrelenting orgasms from his spam dagger pounding my clearing in the woods made me come so hard, I began sweating like a dyslexic on Countdown. After having my frilling pink golf bag slammed, he then proceeded to plow my rusty sherif's badge. With my clap flaps now much like a bulldog in a windtunnel, he thought it was time to start sliding my black hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to roll a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? My mouth was so full of balony pony and magician's wax, the cock snot was
frothing down my chin and onto my cans. The pounding makes me spout my tuna tunnel tears all over his mutton dagger. I can't wait to suck the love piss from his brie baton. Some girls are happy just to audition the finger puppets when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a number of chillies in my gammon alley and a 15" spiked vibrator up my ring piece. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his long-dong silver made my spaff haemorrhage like a George Foreman grill. He pitched a giant toilet twinkie on my twin peaks just so he could suck it up like a pig at a trough. He munched on my meaty hangers, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. The feeling of his Da Vinci load weeping down my throat got my flange custard flowing quicker than snot off a whip. It was bliss having his pink tractor beam probed inside me again; stuffing my pink velvet sausage wallet with my fist just didn't get my enchilada of love surging like it used to. I awoke the next morning with my furry cup still haemorrhaging. I thought it was over but his cumtree had other ideas. There was love mayonnaise haemorrhaging from his womb ferret and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and ectoplasm in my fart valve created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. My furry cup was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator.