by Amy Woods
The mixture of sewer trout and man fat in my turd-herder created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his battering ram soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I can't wait to devour the penis pudding from his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon. He munched on my vertical smile, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. With his stilton spear hammering deep into my salmon slit, the sensation of his bald avenger smashing my cervix made me quake like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. By now, my calamari cockring was foaming like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. I awoke the next morning with my chlamydia canal still oozing. I thought it was over but his skin flute had other ideas. When he removed his purple beaver buster from my turd-herder, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the corn-eyed butt snake off his vein cane. The raiding of my shit winker was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds joining his batter blaster deep in my mud flap. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's roast beef platter looking like a clown's pocket, and I was no different! After having my wizards sleeve plowed, he then proceeded to pound my rusty sherif's badge. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his tenderloin truncheon plunged deeper into my turd-herder. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock custard frothing from my old dirt road and all over my open-faced ham sandwich. There was baby gravy dribbling from his greasy slimelight and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my hot pocket got me surging tuna tunnel tears faster than snot off a whip. The hammering makes me squirt my minge mucus all over his cream reaper. He copped a giant footlong fudge bullet on my rack just so he could consume it up like a pig at a trough. With my vertical garden now much like a werewolf with it's throat cut, he thought it was time to start shoving my marmite motorway. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? It was bliss having his brie baton stuffed inside me again; stuffing my wunder down under with an antique doorknob just didn't get my shame portal spraying like it used to. The unrelenting orgasms from his master of ceremonies pounding my wunder down under made me come so hard, I began sweating like a fat slag in a disco. If I don't fluff the muff to get my sex wee leaking from my salmon slit, his ramrod is going to leave my lunchmeat resembling an over inflated dinghy. The feeling of his baby gravy leaching down my throat got my vertical moisture flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Some girls are happy just to dial the rotary phone when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in my kipper dinghy and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my vintage golf bag. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his chorizo howitzer made my minge mucus haemorrhage like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. My birth cannon was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator.
The thrusting of my rusty bullet hole was so vigorous, he soon found his family jewels joining his womb ferret deep in my Mavis Fritter. The unrelenting orgasms from his battering ram raiding my kipper dinghy made me come so hard, I began sweating like a midget nun at a penguin shoot. The raiding makes me flow my minge mucus all over his disco stick. There was cock snot flowing from his spam dagger and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. I awoke the next morning with my oyster ditch still slobbering. I thought it was over but his greasy slimelight had other ideas. When he removed his blind butler from my old dirt road, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the sewer trout off his veiny quim prod. The feeling of his creamy load leaching down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. I can't wait to lap the penis pudding from his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon. Within no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load trickling from my shit winker and all over my velcro triangle. He curled a giant stink pickle on my boobage just so he could devour it up like a hungry hungry hippo. He munched on my panty hamster, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his batter blaster soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Inserting a gerbil into my shame portal got me spouting minge monsoon faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. My mouth was so full of bald avenger and Da Vinci load, the baby gravy was sliming down my chin and onto my rack. If I don't audition the finger puppets to get my beige slime draining from my cod crater, his throbbing quim dagger is going to leave my furburger resembling a gutted trout. 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 herring hole and a lightbulb up my poop chute. My clunge pool was trembling like jelly. With his cream reaper raiding deep into my shame portal, the sensation of his batter blaster smashing my cervix made me quake like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. By now, my mound of love pudding was flowing like a slavering dog. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his thrill drill stuffed deeper into my puckered brown eye. It was bliss having his giggle stick slid inside me again; stuffing my oyster ditch with a gerbil just didn't get my salmon slit squirting like it used to. After having my spunk dungeon thrusted, he then proceeded to slam my brown mile. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his greasy kebab skewer made my flange custard flow like a rabid dog. The mixture of toilet twinkie and gentleman's relish in my Oxo orifice created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. With my vertical smile now much like a blind cobbler's thumb, he thought it was time to start stuffing my brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to curl a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered?
With my hairy goblet now much like a rabid baboon's arse, he thought it was time to start sliding my tradesman's entrance. Is now the time to tell him I really need to roll a butt nugget, I wondered? It was bliss having his piss pipe stuffed inside me again; stuffing my chlamydia canal with a number of chillies just didn't get my herring hole splurging like it used to. The unrelenting orgasms from his vein cane hammering my tampon tunnel made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage. After having my stench trench hammered, he then proceeded to fuck my Oxo orifice. The feeling of his ectoplasm haemorrhaging down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than snot off a whip. I can't wait to consume the Da Vinci load from his kebeb skewer. The mixture of sewer trout and ectoplasm in my rusty sherif's badge created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his clunger stuffed deeper into my brown mile. The seemingly never-ending streams of gentleman's relish emanating from his wensleydale wand soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. If I don't tune the tuna to get my clunge gunge sliming from my cock holster, his one-eyed monster is going to leave my clap flaps resembling that bathroom door in The Shining. There was man fat foaming from his gristle missile and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. My mouth was so full of wensleydale wand and steamin' semen, the magician's wax was leaking down my chin and onto my chesticles. The raiding of my mud flap was so vigorous, he soon found his man marbles joining his meaty member deep in my soft tight anus. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love piss slobbering from my Mavis Fritter and all over my lunchmeat. My wizards sleeve was trembling like a rat on acid. Inserting a barbie doll into my front bum got me splurging pussy batter faster than snot off a whip. Some girls are happy just to dial the rotary phone when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 15" spiked vibrator in my vibration station and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my poop chute. By now, my oyster ditch was seeping like a hungry pig at a trough. He munched on my clap flaps, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. With his meaty member pounding deep into my cod
canyon, the sensation of his cunt stretcher smashing my cervix made me quake like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. I awoke the next morning with my tuna canal still dripping. I thought it was over but his blind butler had other ideas. When he removed his bald avenger from my fudge factory, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the stink pickle off his blue-veined custard chucker. He arced a giant sewer trout on my breasticles just so he could consume it up like a hungry hungry hippo. The raiding makes me eject my sex wee all over his disco stick. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's flappy meal looking like John Wayne's saddlebags, and I was no different!
I awoke the next morning with my oyster ditch still slobbering. I thought it was over but his mutton dagger had other ideas. Some girls are happy just to dial the rotary phone when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a lightbulb in my soft-shelled tuna taco and a 9-iron up my mud flap. When he removed his piss pipe from my balloon knot, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the butt nugget off his greasy kebab skewer. The feeling of his cock custard dribbling down my throat got my fallopian fish stock flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. I can't wait to lap the love mayonnaise from his all-beef thermometer. He dropped a giant Mr. Hanky on my twin peaks just so he could devour it up like a hungry hungry hippo. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's panty hamster looking like badly battered road kill, and I was no different! The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his womb ferret soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With his one-eyed milkman hammering deep into my hatchet wound, the sensation of his timed slimer smashing my cervix made me quake like a shitting dog. If I don't dial the rotary phone to get my clunge gunge weeping from my clearing in the woods, his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon is going to leave my furburger resembling a darts team's goalkeeper. The raiding makes me gush my minge monsoon all over his meaty member. After having my kipper dinghy pounded, he then proceeded to pound my puckered brown eye. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon made my shrimp sap flow like a slavering dog. He munched on my lunchmeat, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. My mouth was so full of spam dagger and magician's wax, the creamy load was seeping down my chin and onto my rack. My gammon alley was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. The fucking of my poop chute was so vigorous, he soon found his kids on a swing joining his throbbing quim dagger deep in my marmite motorway. With my panty hamster now much like a hippo's yawn, he thought it was time to start sliding my shit winker. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cut a colon cobra, I wondered? By now, my quim was frothing like a slug in a salt mine. Inserting my fist into my bearded haddock pasty got me ejecting minge mucus faster than a greased weasel shit. It was bliss having his chubstep probed inside me again; stuffing my chamber of squelch with a lightbulb just didn't get my bearded haddock pasty spouting like it used to. There was baby gravy oozing from his spam javelin and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. The unrelenting orgasms from his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus thrusting my salmon slit made me come so hard, I began sweating like a fat slag in a disco. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his long-dong silver rammed deeper into my balloon knot. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock snot trickling from my turd cutter and all over my hairy goblet.
Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock custard haemorrhaging from my fudge factory and all over my open-faced ham sandwich. He munched on my vertical smile, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. When he removed his devil's bagpipe from my ring piece, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the footlong fudge bullet off his batter blaster. By now, my sperm socket was seeping like a leaky tap. He launched a giant footlong fudge bullet on my rack just so he could consume it up like a pig at a trough. Some girls are happy just to fish for pearls 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 Mavis Fritter. With his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon raiding deep into my pink velvet sausage wallet, the sensation of his stilton sword smashing my cervix made me quake like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. If I don't fluff the muff to get my beige slime dribbling from my depravity cavity, his love muscle is going to leave my furburger resembling that bathroom door in The Shining. I awoke the next morning with my front bum still oozing. I thought it was over but his bald avenger had other ideas. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's velcro triangle looking like a ripped out fireplace, and I was no different! After having my hatchet wound pounded, he then proceeded to plow my old dirt road. It was bliss having his gristle missile slid inside me again; stuffing my split peach with a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster just didn't get my salmon slit spraying like it used to. The unrelenting orgasms from his cumtree fucking my sperm socket made me come so hard, I began sweating like a paedo during a prison riot. With my beef curtains now much like a bulldog in a windtunnel, he thought it was time to start probing my rusty bullet hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a colon cobra, I wondered? My clunge pool was trembling like a shitting dog. I can't wait to chow down on the cock custard from his Nelson's Column. The pounding of my turd cutter was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds joining his meaty member deep in my tradesman's entrance. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his chubstep soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The feeling of his steamin' semen dribbling down my throat got my beige slime flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The fucking makes me surge my beige slime all over his meaty member. Inserting an antique doorknob into my spunk dungeon got me pouring spaff faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. There was man fat weeping from his stilton sword and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. My mouth was so full of one-eyed milkman and Da Vinci load, the creamy load was frothing down my chin and onto my boobage. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his long-dong silver made my flange custard haemorrhage like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and creamy load in my turd cutter created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of.
He launched a giant footlong fudge bullet on my twin peaks just so he could gobble it up like a pig at a trough. By now, my salmon slit was trickling like a George Foreman grill. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his brie baton made my pussy batter foam like a hungry pig at a trough. Some girls are happy just to fish for pearls when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an antique doorknob in my cod canyon and my fist up my brown mile. When he removed his blue-veined custard chucker from my balloon knot, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the hardened fudge nugget off his meaty member. With my purple cabbage now much like a darts team's goalkeeper, he thought it was time to start shoving my cocoa channel. Is now the time to tell him I really need to extrude a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? The feeling of his creamy load dripping down my throat got my vertical moisture flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and magician's wax in my cocoa channel created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. There was love piss frothing from his bugger king and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. I awoke the next morning with my south mouth still leaking. I thought it was over but his huge penis had other ideas. It was bliss having his ample cock shoved inside me again; stuffing my slime hole with a squash just didn't get my soft-shelled tuna taco flooding like it used to. The hammering of my brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his jingle-jangle jewellery joining his skeleton king deep in my Mavis Fritter.
Within no time, I could feel the shitty love mayonnaise foaming from my brown eye and all over my meaty hangers. My cake hole was so full of ample cock and cock custard, the steamin' semen was seeping down my chin and onto my chest puppies. The fucking makes me flow my minge mucus all over his washington monument. I can't wait to lap the gentleman's relish from his bald avenger. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's vertical smile looking like a darts team's goalkeeper, and I was no different! The unrelenting orgasms from his wensleydale wand pounding my split peach made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage. Inserting a number of chillies into my salmon slit got me spritzing sex wee faster than a greased weasel shit. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his chubstep rammed deeper into my marmite motorway. My tampon tunnel was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. If I don't play the clitar to get my sex wee weeping from my sperm socket, his purple-headed trouser snake is going to leave my roast beef platter resembling a bulldog in a windtunnel. With his tallywacker hammering deep into my smush mitten, the sensation of his blind butler smashing my cervix made me quiver like a rat on acid. After having my chlamydia canal hammered, he then proceeded to pound my rusty sherif's badge. The seemingly never-ending streams of Da Vinci load emanating from his pink tractor beam soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio.