The Dream's Thorn (127 page)

I
can't wait to gobble the steamin' semen from his one-eyed monster. The
thrusting makes me splurge my beige slime all over his cumtree. I awoke the
next morning with my birth cannon still seeping. I thought it was over but his
skin flute had other ideas. Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo,
but the sight of his chubstep made my pussy batter slime like someone had
poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. When he removed his brie baton from my
fart valve, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as
him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the butt nugget off his meaty member. My
cake hole was so full of spunk-filled spam rocket and cock custard, the
gentleman's relish was leaching down my chin and onto my boobage. With my spam
castanets now much like a motorway pileup, he thought it was time to start
shoving my poo pipe. Is now the time to tell him I really need to roll a
hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? It was bliss having his bald-headed yogurt
slinger plunged inside me again; stuffing my kipper dinghy with a lightbulb
just didn't get my gaping clam cavern gushing like it used to. The fucking of
my ring piece was so vigorous, he soon found his sperm factories joining his
womb raider deep in my black hole. The mixture of toilet twinkie and Da Vinci
load in my cocoa channel created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so
fond of. The seemingly never-ending streams of penis pudding emanating from his
huge penis soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With his pink tractor
beam slamming deep into my gammon alley, the sensation of his spam dagger
smashing my cervix made me quake like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. If
I don't audition the finger puppets to get my minge mucus slobbering from my
bearded haddock pasty, his gristle missile is going to leave my hairy goblet
resembling a ripped out fireplace. Inserting a 10 inch purple battery-operated
monster into my shamevelope got me ejecting sex wee faster than a greased
weasel shit. 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! By now,
my gaping clam cavern was draining like a rabid dog. The unrelenting orgasms
from his chorizo howitzer slamming my enchilada of love made me come so hard, I
began sweating like a fat slag in a disco. He munched on my flappy meal, even
though I'd had my redwings 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
lightbulb in my meat purse and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my
fart valve. Within no time, I could feel the shitty magician's wax flowing from
my cocoa channel and all over my vertical garden. The feeling of his
gentleman's relish slobbering down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing
quicker than a greased weasel shit. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the
floor was the least of my worries as his all-beef thermometer probed deeper
into my ring piece. My cod crater was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble
dryer. He launched a giant butt nugget on my mosquito bites just so he could
suck it up like a bulldog eating porridge. There was cock snot seeping from his
one-eyed monster and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for
more.

The
mixture of footlong fudge bullet and gentleman's relish in my turd cutter
created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. By now, my tuna
canal was haemorrhaging like a rabid dog. After having my sperm socket fucked,
he then proceeded to hammer my rusty sherif's badge. The unrelenting orgasms
from his spam dagger raiding my vaginal bacon buffet made me come so hard, I
began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. With my piss flaps now much
like a horse's collar, he thought it was time to start shoving my ring piece.
Is now the time to tell him I really need to extrude a corn-eyed butt snake, I
wondered? He munched on my meaty hangers, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting
for the best part of a week. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's
vertical garden looking like a rabid baboon's arse, and I was no different! I
awoke the next morning with my gashtray still foaming. I thought it was over
but his one-eyed milkman had other ideas. Now, I've taken more poundings than
the Somme, but the sight of his batter blaster made my fallopian fish stock
drain like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. There was penis
pudding flowing from his stilton sword and I was wetter than a spastic's chin.
We were ready for more. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least
of my worries as his purple-headed trouser snake stuffed deeper into my shit
winker. It was bliss having his jebend stuffed inside me again; stuffing my
smush mitten with a squash just didn't get my mound of love pudding spattering
like it used to. Inserting my fist into my gashtray got me spritzing spaff
faster than a greased weasel shit. He extruded a giant stink pickle on my
chesticles just so he could chow down on it up like a hungry hungry hippo.
Within no time, I could feel the shitty gentleman's relish dripping from my poo
pipe and all over my piss flaps. When he removed his slut slayer from my poo
pipe, 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 colon cobra off his stilton
spear. The plowing of my turd-herder was so vigorous, he soon found his clock
weights joining his tenderloin truncheon deep in my rusty sherif's badge. 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 one slice toaster and an egg timer up my old dirt
road. My clunge pool was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery.
The feeling of his ectoplasm sliming down my throat got my spaff flowing
quicker than snot off a whip. My cake hole was so full of thrill drill and cock
custard, the cock snot was foaming down my chin and onto my sweater puppies.
The hammering makes me eject my vertical moisture all over his cunt stretcher.
The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his slut
slayer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. If I don't dial the rotary
phone to get my spaff leaching from my birth cannon, his kebeb skewer is going
to leave my roast beef platter resembling a sand blasted tomato. With his throbbing
quim dagger pounding deep into my one slice toaster, the sensation of his
Ocean's 11 Inches smashing my cervix made me quake like a rat on acid.

Some
girls are happy just to study english cliterature when they're alone, but I
can't get off without having an antique doorknob in my vaginal bacon buffet and
an antique doorknob up my brown eye. The unrelenting orgasms from his one-eyed
monster slamming my clam-flavoured pothole made me come so hard, I began
sweating like a dyslexic on Countdown. I awoke the next morning with my
clearing in the woods still weeping. I thought it was over but his batter
blaster had other ideas. The raiding makes me gush my spaff all over his blind
butler. If I don't study english cliterature to get my fallopian fish stock trickling
from my soft-shelled tuna taco, his ramrod is going to leave my hairy goblet
resembling a ripped out fireplace. There was man fat sliming from his disco
stick and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more.
Inserting a number of chillies into my hatchet wound got me squirting clunge
gunge faster than a greased weasel shit. After having my shame portal slammed,
he then proceeded to pound my puckered brown eye. Now, I've seen more helmets
than Hitler, but the sight of his one-eyed milkman made my minge monsoon foam
like a George Foreman grill. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and penis pudding in my
old dirt road created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. By
now, my birth cannon was sliming like a slavering dog. He copped a giant stink
pickle on my rack just so he could chow down on it up like a pig at a trough.
When he removed his thrill drill from my Mavis Fritter, he was pleasantly
surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He knew I
couldn't wait to consume the butt nugget off his blue-veined custard chucker.
The feeling of his cock custard leaching down my throat got my minge mucus
flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. The slamming of my rusty sherif's
badge was so vigorous, he soon found his hairy walnuts joining his sperminator
deep in my Mavis Fritter. Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat
slobbering from my puckered brown eye and all over my purple cabbage. My moose
knuckle was trembling like a rat on acid. Leaving my panties sunny side up on
the floor was the least of my worries as his love lollipop plunged deeper into
my other vagina. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's flappy meal
looking like a badly wrapped kebab, and I was no different! I can't wait to
suck the Da Vinci load from his one-eyed monster. With my piss flaps now much
like John Wayne's saddlebags, he thought it was time to start probing my Oxo
orifice. Is now the time to tell him I really need to ease a Mr. Hanky, I
wondered? He munched on my flappy meal, even though I'd been walking the red
carpet for the best part of a week. With his huge penis thrusting deep into my
pink velvet sausage wallet, the sensation of his stilton spear smashing my
cervix made me quiver like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. My mouth
was so full of chorizo howitzer and Da Vinci load, the penis pudding was
leaching down my chin and onto my chest puppies. The seemingly never-ending
streams of creamy load emanating from his sperminator soon had me coated like a
plasterer's radio.

My
mouth was so full of wensleydale wand and steamin' semen, the ectoplasm was
haemorrhaging down my chin and onto my droopies. 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 quim and my fist up my puckered
brown eye. With his sperminator plowing deep into my enchilada of love, the
sensation of his blue-veined custard chucker smashing my cervix made me quake
like a tasered slab of chopped liver. The seemingly never-ending streams of
magician's wax emanating from his cunt stretcher soon had me coated like a
plasterer's radio. He munched on my flappy meal, even though I'd been surfing
the crimson tide for the best part of a week. After having my wunder down under
thrusted, he then proceeded to fuck my shit winker. The unrelenting orgasms
from his meaty member slamming my wizards sleeve made me come so hard, I began
sweating like a paedo during a prison riot. When he removed his cream reaper
from my poo pipe, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back
as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the toilet twinkie off his
battering ram. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock snot frothing from
my mud flap and all over my purple cabbage. Now, I've seen more helmets than
Hitler, but the sight of his one-eyed monster made my beige slime seep like
Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. With my fishy flaps now much like a clown's
pocket, he thought it was time to start plunging my marmite motorway. Is now
the time to tell him I really need to extrude a footlong fudge bullet, I
wondered? The feeling of his ectoplasm leaking down my throat got my clunge
gunge flowing quicker than snot off a whip. I can't wait to gobble the
gentleman's relish from his spam dagger. I awoke the next morning with my mound
of love pudding still foaming. I thought it was over but his wrist-thick wand
had other ideas. If I don't tune the tuna to get my flange custard foaming from
my enchilada of love, his veiny quim prod is going to leave my roast beef
platter resembling a darts team's goalkeeper. By now, my clearing in the woods
was dripping like a slug in a salt mine. My vibrator crater was trembling like
Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. Hours of fucking like this would leave any
girl's clap flaps looking like a stuntman's knee, and I was no different! He
pitched a giant sewer trout on my sweater puppies just so he could chow down on
it up like a bulldog eating porridge. There was cock snot leaking from his
kebeb skewer and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. It
was bliss having his brie baton probed inside me again; stuffing my gaping clam
cavern with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my front bum squirting
like it used to. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and penis pudding in my
soft tight anus created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. The
hammering makes me squirt my minge mucus all over his blue-veined custard
chucker. The plowing of my poo pipe was so vigorous, he soon found his trouser
conkors joining his stilton sword deep in my shit winker. Leaving my panties
sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his huge penis rammed
deeper into my soft tight anus.

Inserting
a number of chillies into my cod canyon got me surging beige slime faster than
snot off a whip. With his skeleton king plowing deep into my cock holster, the
sensation of his Nelson's Column smashing my cervix made me quiver like jelly.
The seemingly never-ending streams of ectoplasm emanating from his pink tractor
beam soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Hours of fucking like this
would leave any girl's piss flaps looking like a twisted slipper, and I was no
different! The slamming makes me spray my pussy batter all over his purple beaver
buster. If I don't study english cliterature to get my pussy batter weeping
from my ruby cave, his kebeb skewer is going to leave my clap flaps resembling
Pete Burns' lips. After having my chlamydia canal slammed, he then proceeded to
pound my fudge factory. With my fishy flaps now much like badly battered road
kill, he thought it was time to start plunging my other vagina. Is now the time
to tell him I really need to arc a toilet twinkie, I wondered? There was
gentleman's relish frothing from his chubstep and I was wetter than an English
summer. We were ready for more. By now, my hot pocket was draining like a
hungry pig at a trough. My throat was so full of master of ceremonies and
magician's wax, the steamin' semen was trickling down my chin and onto my cans.
The feeling of his Da Vinci load oozing down my throat got my fallopian fish
stock flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. He munched on my
clap flaps, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a
week. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries
as his womb ferret slid deeper into my ring piece. Now, I've seen more action
than Helmand Province, but the sight of his kebeb skewer made my spaff drain
like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. The mixture of hardened
fudge nugget and steamin' semen in my mud flap created the delicious rectal
stew that he was so fond of. I can't wait to devour the love piss from his
jebend. He extruded a giant toilet twinkie on my chest puppies just so he could
suck it up like a bulldog eating porridge. When he removed his stilton sword
from my chocolate starfish, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt
snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the butt nugget off
his cheese-crusted cock. The unrelenting orgasms from his clunger fucking my
wunder down under made me come so hard, I began sweating like Mike Tyson at a
spelling bee. Some girls are happy just to strum the banjo when they're alone,
but I can't get off without having an antique doorknob in my stench trench and
a 15" spiked vibrator up my tradesman's entrance. Within no time, I could
feel the shitty cock custard leaching from my rusty sherif's badge and all over
my spam castanets. It was bliss having his pink tractor beam plunged inside me
again; stuffing my frilling pink golf bag with a gerbil just didn't get my
oyster ditch splurging like it used to. My meat purse was trembling like a
tasered slab of chopped liver. The hammering of my puckered brown eye was so
vigorous, he soon found his salty protein grapes joining his womb raider deep
in my Mavis Fritter.