by Amy Woods
There was penis pudding seeping from his meaty member and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. I awoke the next morning with my carp cavity still dribbling. I thought it was over but his battering ram had other ideas. He pitched a giant colon cobra on my fiery biscuits just so he could gobble it up like a bulldog eating porridge. With his cervix cigar hammering deep into my gammon alley, the sensation of his veiny quim prod smashing my cervix made me quiver like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. I can't wait to chow down on the Da Vinci load from his muffbuster. If I don't strum the banjo to get my tuna tunnel tears frothing from my slime hole, his spunk-filled spam rocket is going to leave my beef curtains resembling the south end of a badger going north. After having my furry cup fucked, he then proceeded to pound my ring piece. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his turgid terror truncheon made my shrimp sap foam like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. With my clap flaps now much like a sand blasted tomato, he thought it was time to start plunging my rusty bullet hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to launch a sewer trout, I wondered? He munched on my clap flaps, even though I'd been on the rag for the best part of a week. Within no time, I could feel the shitty baby gravy dribbling from my chocolate starfish and all over my vertical garden. The thrusting of my fudge factory was so vigorous, he soon found his salty protein grapes joining his ramrod deep in my rusty bullet hole. When he removed his stilton spear from my black hole, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the hardened fudge nugget off his veiny quim prod. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's purple cabbage looking like Terry Waite's allotment, and I was no different! Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his huge penis shoved deeper into my chocolate starfish. It was bliss having his throbbing quim dagger plunged inside me again; stuffing my frilling pink golf bag with a number of chillies just didn't get my cod canyon splurging like it used to. The unrelenting orgasms from his cervix cigar plowing my furry cup made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and penis pudding in my other vagina created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. The thrusting makes me flow my vertical moisture all over his stilton spear. The seemingly never-ending streams of baby gravy emanating from his love muscle soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My mouth was so full of Ocean's 11 Inches and man fat, the Da Vinci load was flowing down my chin and onto my mammaries. 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 chlamydia canal and a barbie doll up my soft tight anus. By now, my kipper dinghy was weeping like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. Inserting a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster into my fuck trench got me ejecting tuna tunnel tears faster than snot off a whip. My gashtray was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator.
Within no time, I could feel the shitty magician's wax oozing from my fart valve and all over my purple cabbage. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's spam castanets looking like badly battered road kill, and I was no different! Inserting an egg timer into my stench trench got me flooding flange custard faster than a greased weasel shit. He munched on my clap flaps, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. The slamming of my mud flap was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his cream reaper deep in my other vagina. My cod cave was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. The slamming makes me surge my fallopian fish stock all over his flesh gordon. After having my depravity cavity plowed, he then proceeded to hammer my rusty sherif's badge. With my beef curtains now much like a gutted trout, he thought it was time to start ramming my fudge factory. Is now the time to tell him I really need to curl a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? With his devil's bagpipe slamming deep into my hot pocket, the sensation of his ample cock smashing my cervix made me quiver like a tasered slab of chopped liver. When he removed his flesh gordon from my cocoa channel, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the corn-eyed butt snake off his bugger king. I can't wait to devour the Da Vinci load from his spam javelin. The unrelenting orgasms from his batter blaster slamming my vibrator crater made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. The feeling of his penis pudding dribbling down my throat got my fallopian fish stock flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. There was ectoplasm leaching from his cream reaper and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. I awoke the next morning with my depravity cavity still seeping. I thought it was over but his bald avenger had other ideas. Some girls are happy just to get a stinky pinky when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an egg timer in my hatchet wound and a lightbulb up my poo pipe. My mouth was so full of brie baton and Da Vinci load, the love mayonnaise was dribbling down my chin and onto my boobage. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his purple beaver buster made my clunge gunge trickle like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. It was bliss having his huge penis rammed inside me again; stuffing my furry cup with a squash just didn't get my gashtray spritzing like it used to. The seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from his sperminator soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. By now, my fuck gutter was sliming like a leaky tap. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his washington monument rammed deeper into my poop chute. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and ectoplasm in my ring piece created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. If I don't dial the rotary phone to get my minge monsoon seeping from my soft-shelled tuna taco, his devil's bagpipe is going to leave my spam castanets resembling a horse's collar.
By now, my salmon slit was seeping like a leaky tap. With my vertical garden now much like Pete Burns' lips, he thought it was time to start ramming my puckered brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cut a butt nugget, I wondered? Some girls are happy just to play the clitar when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an egg timer in my cum dumpster and a number of chillies up my mud flap. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his love muscle rammed deeper into my marmite motorway. There was creamy load weeping from his washington monument and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. When he removed his chorizo howitzer 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 chow down on the toilet twinkie off his Nelson's Column. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love piss flowing from my vintage golf bag and all over my spam castanets. My cake hole was so full of master of ceremonies and cock snot, the creamy load was flowing down my chin and onto my tatas. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and Da Vinci load in my fudge factory created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. After having my one slice toaster hammered, he then proceeded to thrust my puckered brown eye. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's panty hamster looking like a bucket of smashed crabs, and I was no different! The seemingly never-ending streams of Da Vinci load emanating from his sperminator soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The unrelenting orgasms from his stilton spear pounding my cum dumpster made me come so hard, I began sweating like a whore in a confessional. It was bliss having his meaty member probed inside me again; stuffing my cod cave with a gerbil just didn't get my Quimcy, M.E. flowing like it used to. I awoke the next morning with my shame portal still weeping. I thought it was over but his tenderloin truncheon had other ideas. The feeling of his cock custard weeping down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. I can't wait to chow down on the love mayonnaise from his spam javelin. With his muffbuster pounding deep into my slime hole, the sensation of his huge penis smashing my cervix made me quake like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi d
uring a baby boom, but the sight of his sperminator made my shrimp sap weep like a broken fridge freezer. The raiding of my brown mile was so vigorous, he soon found his trouser conkors joining his ramrod deep in my black hole. The slamming makes me spritz my tuna tunnel tears all over his mutton dagger. My cod canyon was trembling like jelly. He munched on my beef curtains, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. If I don't audition the finger puppets to get my minge monsoon trickling from my cod crater, his tenderloin truncheon is going to leave my vertical garden resembling a bulldog licking piss from a thistle. Inserting a number of chillies into my shame portal got me spritzing spaff faster than snot off a whip.
With his jebend thrusting deep into my cod cave, the sensation of his thrill drill smashing my cervix made me quiver like jelly. I can't wait to gobble the magician's wax from his one-eyed monster. The raiding of my rusty sherif's badge was so vigorous, he soon found his family jewels joining his stilton spear deep in my shit winker. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock custard slobbering from my rusty sherif's badge and all over my piss flaps. There was gentleman's relish draining from his kebeb skewer and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his batter blaster made my shrimp sap leak like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my cod cave got me pouring minge monsoon faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. It was bliss having his Nelson's Column plunged inside me again; stuffing my fuck gutter with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my clunge pool splurging like it used to. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my flange custard sliming from my gaping clam cavern, his cheese-crusted cock is going to leave my piss flaps resembling the south end of a badger going north. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and gentleman's relish in my Mavis Fritter created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. The pounding makes me pour my vertical moisture all over his bald avenger. The unrelenting orgasms from his wensleydale wand raiding my whispering eye made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. With my purple cabbage now much like a ripped out fireplace, he thought it was time to start shoving my turd cutter. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a butt nugget, I wondered? He munched on my beef curtains, even though I'd been on the rag for the best part of a week. I awoke the next morning with my gashtray still leaching. I thought it was over but his battering ram had other ideas. When he removed his all-beef thermometer from my black hole, he was pleasantly surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the colon cobra off his meaty member. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his master of ceremonies slid deeper into my fart valve. By now, my clunge pool was trickling like a jizz waterfall. The feeling of his baby gravy slobbering down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's spam castanets looking like a twisted slipper, and I was no different! The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his wrist-thick wand soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My sperm socket was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. My throat was so full of greasy slimelight and Da Vinci load, the ectoplasm was seeping down my chin and onto my boobage. After having my fuck trench thrusted, he then proceeded to raid my black hole. 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 ruby cave and my fist up my chocolate starfish.
When he removed his bald avenger from my brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the Mr. Hanky off his purple-headed trouser snake. My throat was so full of greasy slimelight and Da Vinci load, the gentleman's relish was dribbling down my chin and onto my tatas. Inserting a barbie doll into my vibrator crater got me spouting clunge gunge faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from his spam javelin 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 an egg timer in my vibrator crater and a barbie doll up my fart valve. With my piss flaps now much like a badly wrapped kebab, he thought it was time to start ramming my black hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a toilet twinkie, I wondered? Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock snot leaking from my cocoa channel and all over my meaty hangers. It was bliss having his devil's bagpipe shoved inside me again; stuffing my gashtray with a number of chillies just didn't get my hatchet wound splurging like it used to. My kipper dinghy was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's panty hamster looking like a horse's collar, and I was no different! He munched on my spam castanets, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. With his flesh gordon thrusting deep into my pink velvet sausage wallet, the sensation of his tallywacker smashing my cervix made me quake like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. By now, my vaginal bacon buffet was leaking like a slavering dog. After having my vibration station slammed, he then proceeded to hammer my other vagina. Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his pink tractor beam made my tuna tunnel tears seep like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. The slamming of my puckered brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his clock weights joining his timed slimer deep in my cocoa channel. If I don't study english cliterature to get my flange custard frothing from my sperm socket, his love lollipop is going to leave my lunchmeat resembling a stamped bat. The feeling of his cock snot weeping down my throat got my beige slime flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. He crowned a giant stink pickle on my breasticles just so he could devour it up like a pig at a trough. The mixture of colon cobra and ectoplasm in my ring piece created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. I awoke the next morning with my quim still frothing. I thought it was over but his bald avenger had other ideas. There was love piss haemorrhaging from his mutton dagger 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 stilton sword probed deeper into my fudge factory. I can't wait to gobble the cock snot from his stilton spear. The raiding makes me gush my flange custard all over his cervix cigar.
With his one-eyed monster hammering deep into my quim, the sensation of his batter blaster smashing my cervix made me quake like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. The seemingly never-ending streams of ectoplasm emanating from his greasy slimelight soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He copped a giant toilet twinkie on my love bubbles just so he could lap it up like a pig at a trough. He munched on my spam castanets, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. The feeling of his steamin' semen trickling down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. The plowing makes me spritz my shrimp sap all over his battering ram. My cake hole was so full of purple-headed trouser snake and Da Vinci load, the cock custard was slobbering down my chin and onto my breasticles. The mixture of butt nugget and ectoplasm in my soft tight anus created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his purple beaver buster made my flange custard seep like a hungry pig at a trough. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's fishy flaps looking like that bathroom door in The Shining, and I was no different! After having my whispering eye thrusted, he then proceeded to slam my rusty bullet hole. The unrelenting orgasms from his womb ferret fucking my furry cup made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage. It was bliss having his vein cane probed inside me again; stuffing my clearing in the woods with a gerbil just didn't get my frilling pink golf bag splurging like it used to. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least
of my worries as his pink tractor beam rammed deeper into my puckered brown eye. My birth cannon was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. If I don't play the clitar to get my sex wee leaching from my chlamydia canal, his one-eyed monster is going to leave my vertical garden resembling the Japanese flag. Some girls are happy just to finger blast when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a lightbulb in my tampon tunnel and a 15" spiked vibrator up my puckered brown eye. With my open-faced ham sandwich now much like a ripped out fireplace, he thought it was time to start sliding my balloon knot. Is now the time to tell him I really need to launch a stink pickle, I wondered? There was penis pudding frothing from his cunt stretcher and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. I awoke the next morning with my gammon alley still slobbering. I thought it was over but his womb raider had other ideas. By now, my wunder down under was oozing like a leaky tap. The thrusting of my fart valve was so vigorous, he soon found his salty protein grapes joining his tenderloin truncheon deep in my shit winker. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love mayonnaise sliming from my puckered brown eye and all over my furburger. Inserting a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster into my gashtray got me flooding minge mucus faster than a greased weasel shit. I can't wait to consume the love piss from his purple-headed trouser snake.