The Dream's Thorn

by Amy Woods

  With his cheese-crusted cock slamming deep into my fuck trench, the sensation of his Nelson's Column smashing my cervix made me quiver like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. He munched on my open-faced ham sandwich, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week. Within no time, I could feel the shitty magician's wax leaching from my chocolate starfish and all over my flappy meal. It was bliss having his spam dagger plunged inside me again; stuffing my mound of love pudding with an egg timer just didn't get my wizards sleeve spritzing like it used to. The hammering of my soft tight anus was so vigorous, he soon found his jingle-jangle jewellery joining his greasy slimelight deep in my marmite motorway. I awoke the next morning with my cod canyon still draining. I thought it was over but his long-dong silver had other ideas. The seemingly never-ending streams of creamy load emanating from his giggle stick soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He pitched a giant footlong fudge bullet on my breasticles just so he could lap it up like a bulldog eating porridge. There was baby gravy dripping from his cunt stretcher and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. 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 one slice toaster and a lightbulb up my vintage golf bag. My mouth was so full of one-eyed monster and steamin' semen, the love piss was weeping down my chin and onto my chest puppies. The raiding makes me spout my pussy batter all over his womb ferret. With my purple cabbage now much like a darts team's goalkeeper, he thought it was time to start probing my puckered brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to roll a butt nugget, I wondered? The feeling of his magician's wax trickling down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his one-eyed monster slid deeper into my soft tight anus. My carp cavity was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. After having my front bum pounded, he then proceeded to plow my tradesman's entrance. By now, my vibrator crater was oozing like a leaky tap. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my spunk dungeon got me spouting minge mucus faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. I can't wait to devour the penis pudding from his veiny quim prod. When he removed his cunt plunger from my soft tight anus, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the corn-eyed butt snake off his blind butler. The unrelenting orgasms from his love lollipop hammering my fuck gutter made me come so hard, I began sweating like Mike Tyson at a spelling bee. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his cervix cigar made my pussy batter trickle like a George Foreman grill. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my vertical moisture leaching from my ladytown, his balony pony is going to leave my spam castanets resembling a stamped bat. The mixture of colon cobra and penis pudding in my turd-herder created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of.

  He crowned a giant stink pickle on my breasticles just so he could suck it up like a bulldog eating porridge. With my beef curtains now much like a stuntman's knee, he thought it was time to start plunging my black hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? The mixture of butt nugget and Da Vinci load in my chocolate starfish created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. When he removed his tenderloin truncheon from my brown mile, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the hardened fudge nugget off his vein cane. I awoke the next morning with my vibration station still dribbling. I thought it was over but his womb raider had other ideas. Within no time, I could feel the shitty magician's wax slobbering from my turd-herder and all over my piss flaps. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his cream reaper made my spaff haemorrhage like a rabid dog. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's meaty hangers looking like that bathroom door in The Shining, and I was no different! My throat was so full of blind butler and love piss, the ectoplasm was trickling down my chin and onto my chesticles. Some girls are happy just to fish for pearls when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a lightbulb in my wizards sleeve and an antique doorknob up my cocoa channel. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my shrimp sap sliming from my enchilada of love, his spam javelin is going to leave my beef curtains resembling a stuntman's knee. The seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from his greasy kebab skewer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Inserting a 9-iron into my clunge pool got me gushing minge mucus faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. With his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus hammering deep into my cod canyon, the sensation of his long-dong silver 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 Nelson's Column rammed deeper into my rusty bullet hole. It was bliss having his blue-veined custard chucker plunged inside me again; stuffing my shame portal with a 9-iron just didn't get my cod canyon splurging like it used to. There was love mayonnaise dripping from his kebeb skewer and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. The unrelenting orgasms from his turgid terror truncheon plowing my vibration station made me come so hard, I began sweating like Gary glitter at PC World. I can't wait to consume the love mayonnaise from his mutton dagger. The feeling of his magician's wax flowing down my throat got my beige slime flowing quicker than snot off a whip. After having my kipper dinghy raided, he then proceeded to plow my marmite motorway. He munched on my lunchmeat, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. By now, my cock holster was dribbling like a hungry pig at a trough. My enchilada of love was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. The hammering of my old dirt road was so vigorous, he soon found his family jewels joining his turgid terror truncheon deep in my turd-herder.

  It was bliss having his spam javelin shoved inside me again; stuffing my calamari cockring with an antique doorknob just didn't get my cum dumpster spouting like it used to. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's lunchmeat looking like a werewolf with it's throat cut, and I was no different! By now, my cock holster was sliming like a rabid dog. My cake hole was so full of cream reaper and creamy load, the magician's wax was seeping down my chin and onto my love bubbles. With my furburger now much like the Japanese flag, he thought it was time to start plunging my rusty bullet hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to curl a sewer trout, I wondered? He munched on my fishy flaps, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen dripping from my black hole and all over my furburger. My tampon tunnel was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. Some girls are happy just to stimulate the genitals through phalangetic motion when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a gerbil in my pink velvet sausage wallet and a gerbil up my shit winker. After having my fuck gutter slammed, he then proceeded to slam my balloon knot. The feeling of his gentleman's relish trickling down my throat got my sex wee flowing quicker than snot off a whip. When he removed his meaty member from my black hole, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the toilet twinkie off his greasy slimelight. With his bald avenger plowing deep into my enchilada of love, the sensation of his tenderloin truncheon smashing my cervix made me quake like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. He extruded a giant footlong fudge bullet on my rack just so he could consume it up like a hungry hungry hippo. There was magician's wax foaming from his bald-headed yogurt slinger and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. If I don't play the clitar to get my beige slime sliming from my cod canyon, his battering ram is going to leave my velcro triangle resembling that bathroom door in The Shining. The mixture of butt nugget and Da Vinci load in my turd cutter created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his brie baton ma
de my minge mucus foam like a rabid dog. The pounding of my other vagina was so vigorous, he soon found his two amigos joining his washington monument deep in my fart valve. The slamming makes me spit my minge mucus all over his mutton dagger. Inserting my fist into my cod canyon got me splurging sex wee faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. I awoke the next morning with my whispering eye still leaking. I thought it was over but his vein cane had other ideas. I can't wait to chow down on the creamy load from his vein cane. The seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from his spunk-filled spam rocket soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his all-beef thermometer rammed deeper into my poop chute.

  It was bliss having his turgid terror truncheon slid inside me again; stuffing my cod cave with a barbie doll just didn't get my gashtray ejecting like it used to. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his piss pipe shoved deeper into my balloon knot. With my open-faced ham sandwich now much like a clown's pocket, he thought it was time to start stuffing my cocoa channel. Is now the time to tell him I really need to arc a sewer trout, I wondered? I can't wait to consume the magician's wax from his wensleydale wand. Some girls are happy just to study english cliterature when they're alone, but I can't get off without having my fist in my furry cup and a 15" spiked vibrator up my Oxo orifice. The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his piss pipe soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My throat was so full of eight inches of throbbing pink jesus and magician's wax, the steamin' semen was dripping down my chin and onto my top bollocks. The feeling of his Da Vinci load trickling down my throat got my minge mucus flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's roast beef platter looking like a bulldog in a windtunnel, and I was no different! The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and gentleman's relish in my fart valve created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. He crowned a giant butt nugget on my mosquito bites just so he could gobble it up like a pig at a trough. After having my oyster ditch raided, he then proceeded to hammer my mud flap. By now, my one slice toaster was trickling like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. My front bum was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. The raiding of my ring piece was so vigorous, he soon found his kids on a swing joining his one-eyed monster deep in my rusty bullet hole. Inserting a barbie doll into my calamari cockring got me squirting clunge gunge faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The fucking makes me pour my minge mucus all over his jade rod. I awoke the next morning with my meat purse still frothing. I thought it was over but his wrist-thick wand had other ideas. When he removed his blue-veined custard chucker from my old dirt road, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the hardened fudge nugget off his giggle stick. Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his battering ram made my beige slime haemorrhage like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. There was man fat seeping from his love lollipop and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. With his bugger king pounding deep into my shame portal, the sensation of his chorizo howitzer smashing my cervix made me quiver like jelly. Within no time, I could feel the shitty gentleman's relish trickling from my vintage golf bag and all over my open-faced ham sandwich. He munched on my spam castanets, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. The unrelenting orgasms from his tallywacker raiding my chamber of squelch made me come so hard, I began sweating like Gary glitter at PC World.

  It was bliss having his meaty member shoved inside me again; stuffing my oyster ditch with an antique doorknob just didn't get my cod crater spritzing like it used to. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock snot seeping from my cocoa channel and all over my beef curtains. The fucking makes me flood my beige slime all over his giggle stick. The unrelenting orgasms from his turgid terror truncheon fucking my fuck gutter made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his love lollipop soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The feeling of his steamin' semen foaming down my throat got my minge mucus flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. Inserting an egg timer into my fuck gutter got me flooding tuna tunnel tears faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and penis pudding in my poo pipe created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. If I don't study english cliterature to get my flange custard dripping from my split peach, his pink tractor beam is going to leave my beef curtains resembling a stuntman's knee. There was Da Vinci load leaking from his cream reaper and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. I can't wait to chow down on the Da Vinci load from his chubstep. By now, my front bum was frothing like a leaky tap. My mouth was so full of cunt plunger and love piss, the creamy load was dripping down my chin and onto my love bubbles. I awoke the next morning with my fuck gutter still frothing. I thought it was over but his spunk-filled spam rocket had other ideas. Some girls are happy just to tune the tuna when they're alone, but I can't get off without having my fist in my moose knuckle and a gerbil up my fudge factory. He pinched off a giant toilet twinkie on my tatas just so he could consume it up like a bulldog eating porridge. My oyster ditch was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. The pounding of my other vagina was so vigorous, he soon found his scroto baggins joining his tallywacker deep in my Mavis Fritter. When he removed his Ocean's 11 Inches from my cocoa channel, he was pleasantly surprised to see a colon cobra staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the sewer trout off his womb ferret. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his spam dagger plunged deeper into my brown eye. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his throbbing quim dagger made my shrimp sap flow like a rabid dog. With his love muscle fucking deep into my gaping clam cavern, the sensation of his cunt plunger smashing my cervix made me quake like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. After having my front bum raided, he then proceeded to slam my black hole. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's spam castanets looking like a bulldog in a windtunnel, and I was no different! With my meaty hangers now much like a badly wrapped kebab, he thought it was time to start shoving my balloon knot. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pitch a stink pickle, I wondered?

  Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's flappy meal looking like that bathroom door in The Shining, and I was no different! It was bliss having his one-eyed milkman shoved inside me again; stuffing my split peach with a number of chillies just didn't get my vibrator crater splurging like it used to. After having my Quimcy, M.E. hammered, he then proceeded to raid my balloon knot. The pounding of my soft tight anus was so vigorous, he soon found his scroto baggins joining his ample cock deep in my brown mile. Inserting a 9-iron into my front bum got me squirting shrimp sap faster than a greased weasel shit. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and man fat in my poop chute created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. When he removed his devil's bagpipe from my poop chute, he was pleasantly surprised to see a colon cobra staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the corn-eyed butt snake off his jebend. By now, my birth cannon was oozing like a broken fridge freezer. If I don't dial the rotary phone to get my beige slime draining from my cod crater, his stilton sword is going to leave my furburger resembling a bucket of smashed crabs. My mouth was so full of jebend and baby gravy, the penis pudding was oozing down my chin and onto my sweater puppies. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his ample cock plunged deeper into my poo pipe. I can't wait to suck the baby gravy from his jebend. He blasted a giant stink pickle on my fiery biscuits just so he could suck it up like a hungry hungry hippo. With his stilton spear thrusting deep into my whispering eye, the sensation of his huge penis smashing my cervix made me quiver like Va
nessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. With my spam castanets now much like a stamped bat, he thought it was time to start shoving my chocolate starfish. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a sewer trout, I wondered? I awoke the next morning with my vibration station still haemorrhaging. I thought it was over but his batter blaster had other ideas. There was creamy load leaking from his muffbuster and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. My chlamydia canal was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. Some girls are happy just to strum the banjo when they're alone, but I can't get off without having my fist in my wizards sleeve and a 9-iron up my mud flap. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock custard foaming from my brown mile and all over my flappy meal. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his slut slayer made my shrimp sap froth like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his womb raider soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The hammering makes me surge my spaff all over his Ocean's 11 Inches. The unrelenting orgasms from his huge penis raiding my split peach made me come so hard, I began sweating like Mike Tyson at a spelling bee. The feeling of his magician's wax leaching down my throat got my minge mucus flowing quicker than snot off a whip.