by Amy Woods
The hammering makes me flow my fallopian fish stock all over his greasy slimelight. Within no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load dribbling from my other vagina and all over my piss flaps. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his sperminator soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With his kebeb skewer fucking deep into my clearing in the woods, the sensation of his tenderloin truncheon smashing my cervix made me quiver like a rat on acid. Some girls are happy just to get a stinky pinky when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a barbie doll in my birth cannon and an antique doorknob up my old dirt road. There was cock custard draining from his bald avenger and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. I can't wait to devour the magician's wax from his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus. My tampon tunnel was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his disco stick made my minge mucus weep like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his long-dong silver rammed deeper into my other vagina. The unrelenting orgasms from his ramrod raiding my cock holster made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. The feeling of his steamin' semen seeping down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. My mouth was so full of veiny quim prod and gentleman's relish, the man fat was dribbling down my chin and onto my boobage. If I don't flick the bean to get my flange custard seeping from my clunge pool, his spam javelin is going to leave my open-faced ham sandwich resembling a werewolf with it's throat cut. With my clap flaps now much like the Japanese flag, he thought it was time to start stuffing my old dirt road. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a stink pickle, I wondered? It was bliss having his jebend stuffed inside me again; stuffing my carp cavity with a 9-iron just didn't get my fuck trench spraying like it used to. When he removed his blue-veined custard chucker from my shit winker, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the toilet twinkie off his disco stick. The mixture of butt nugget and cock snot in my poop chute created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. After having my Quimcy, M.E. raided, he then proceeded to fuck my cocoa channel. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's clap flaps looking like badly battered road kill, and I was no different! He munched on my furburger, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. He eased out a giant footlong fudge bullet on my fiery biscuits just so he could chow down on it up like a bulldog eating porridge. By now, my cod cave was frothing like a slug in a salt mine. Inserting an antique doorknob into my hatchet wound got me ejecting clunge gunge faster than snot off a whip. I awoke the next morning with my kipper dinghy still oozing. I thought it was over but his jebend had other ideas.
By now, my gashtray was foaming like a jizz waterfall. The thrusting makes me squirt my beige slime all over his bald avenger. Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat frothing from my fart valve and all over my velcro triangle. With his cumtree pounding deep into my wunder down under, the sensation of his ample cock smashing my cervix made me quake like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. After having my spunk dungeon thrusted, he then proceeded to slam my turd-herder. The mixture of colon cobra and cock snot in my rusty sherif's badge created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. Some girls are happy just to tune the tuna when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a lightbulb in my cock holster and a gerbil up my cocoa channel. When he removed his timed slimer from my other vagina, he was pleasantly surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the butt nugget off his cervix cigar. The feeling of his steamin' semen frothing down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than snot off a whip. The thrusting of my puckered brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his skeleton king deep in my ring piece. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his cheese-crusted cock made my fallopian fish stock seep like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. Inserting an antique doorknob into my municipal cockwash got me pouring vertical moisture faster than snot off a whip. If I don't audition the finger puppets to get my tuna tunnel tears foaming from my sperm socket, his washington monument is going to leave my panty hamster resembling a badly wrapped kebab. I can't wait to consume the magician's wax from his cervix cigar. With my hairy goblet now much like a werewolf with it's throat cut, he thought it was time to start shoving my poop chute. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a stink pickle, I wondered? The unrelenting orgasms from his all-beef thermometer thrusting my south mouth made me come so hard, I began sweating like a paedo during a prison riot. The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his greasy kebab skewer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My moose knuckle was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. It was bliss having his purple beaver buster probed inside me again; stuffing my fuck trench with a barbie doll just didn't get my depravity cavity spouting like it used to. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cervix cigar slid deeper into my other vagina. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's fishy flaps looking like a stuntman's knee, and I was no different! He crowned a giant footlong fudge bullet on my sweater puppies just so he could devour it up like a bulldog eating porridge. He munched on my furburger, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. I awoke the next morning with my ruby cave still flowing. I thought it was over but his spam dagger had other ideas. There was ectoplasm dripping from his brie baton and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more.
There was ectoplasm sliming from his blind butler and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. I can't wait to suck the magician's wax from his jade rod. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's velcro triangle looking like Pete Burns' lips, and I was no different! Inserting a lightbulb into my wunder down under got me spouting tuna tunnel tears faster than snot off a whip. My one slice toaster was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his cream reaper made my shrimp sap seep like a rabid dog. Within no time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm seeping from my soft tight anus and all over my lunchmeat. With my piss flaps now much like a clown's pocket, he thought it was time to start plunging my brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a stink pickle, I wondered? The seemingly never-ending streams of baby gravy emanating from his bugger king soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The unrelenting orgasms from his skin flute hammering my salmon slit made me come so hard, I began sweating like a paedo during a prison riot. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my minge mucus dripping from my fuck gutter, his greasy slimelight is going to leave my furburger resembling Brian May's plughole. The hammering makes me flood my spaff all over his balony pony. I awoke the next morning with my shame portal still draining. I thought it was over but his chubstep had other ideas. By now, my frilling pink golf bag was oozing like a broken fridge freezer. He blasted a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my boobage just so he could lap it up like a bulldog eating porridge. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his spunk-filled spam rocket stuffed deeper into my puckered brown eye. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and cock custard in my mud flap created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. With his jade rod thrusting deep into my ground zero grotto, the sensation of his flesh gordon smashing my cervix made me quiver like a rat on acid. When he removed his clunger from my fart valve, 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 sperminator. My throat was so full of clunger and love mayonnaise, the cock custard was leaking down my chin and onto my cans. It was bliss having his blue-veined custard chucker shoved inside me again; stuffing my fuck gut
ter with an antique doorknob just didn't get my birth cannon surging like it used to. After having my municipal cockwash fucked, he then proceeded to raid my poo pipe. The feeling of his cock snot flowing down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. He munched on my meaty hangers, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. The hammering of my ring piece was so vigorous, he soon found his sperm factories joining his one-eyed milkman deep in my black hole.
Inserting an egg timer into my smush mitten got me splurging minge mucus faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. If I don't buff the muff to get my tuna tunnel tears frothing from my pink velvet sausage wallet, his Nelson's Column is going to leave my velcro triangle resembling Pete Burns' lips. The unrelenting orgasms from his skin flute pounding my gammon alley made me come so hard, I began sweating like a whore in a confessional. With my panty hamster now much like John Wayne's saddlebags, he thought it was time to start shoving my mud flap. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a butt nugget, I wondered? Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's meaty hangers looking like a hippo's yawn, and I was no different! The mixture of colon cobra and cock custard in my balloon knot created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. There was magician's wax flowing from his bald-headed yogurt slinger and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. With his bald avenger plowing deep into my hatchet wound, the sensation of his master of ceremonies smashing my cervix made me quiver like a tasered slab of chopped liver. It was bliss having his cream reaper probed inside me again; stuffing my quim with a gerbil just didn't get my split peach surging like it used to. When he removed his vein cane 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 consume the footlong fudge bullet off his love lollipop. He munched on my hairy goblet, even though I'd been on the rag for the best part of a week. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his meaty member made my pussy batter ooze like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. I can't wait to chow down on the penis pudding from his cream reaper. 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 enchilada of love and a 9-iron up my shit winker. My mouth was so full of love muscle and gentleman's relish, the love mayonnaise was haemorrhaging down my chin and onto my superdroopers. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love mayonnaise leaking from my poop chute and all over my furburger. My stench trench was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. He dropped a giant Mr. Hanky on my chesticles just so he could devour it up like a hungry hungry hippo. The thrusting makes me flow my minge monsoon all over his womb ferret. After having my cod crater hammered, he then proceeded to pound my poo pipe. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his skin flute soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I awoke the next morning with my shamevelope still weeping. I thought it was over but his chubstep had other ideas. The feeling of his cock custard frothing down my throat got my flange custard flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his gristle missile shoved deeper into my black hole. By now, my salmon slit was seeping like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls.
By now, my depravity cavity was trickling like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. With my hairy goblet now much like a blind cobbler's thumb, he thought it was time to start shoving my black hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to blast a stink pickle, I wondered? It was bliss having his long-dong silver plunged inside me again; stuffing my clam-flavoured pothole with a gerbil just didn't get my hatchet wound spouting like it used to. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's spam castanets looking like a stuntman's knee, and I was no different! After having my herring hole raided, he then proceeded to fuck my poo pipe. If I don't study english cliterature to get my clunge gunge slobbering from my south mouth, his purple-headed trouser snake is going to leave my flappy meal resembling an over inflated dinghy. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his ramrod slid deeper into my mud flap. The unrelenting orgasms from his meaty member hammering my one slice toaster made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. The thrusting of my turd-herder was so vigorous, he soon found his two amigos joining his master of ceremonies deep in my mud flap. There was steamin' semen frothing from his purple-headed trouser snake and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. With his muffbuster thrusting deep into my bearded haddock pasty, the sensation of his bugger king smashing my cervix made me quake like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock custard oozing from my marmite motorway and all over my vertical garden. The seemingly never-ending streams of gentleman's relish emanating from his giggle stick soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My Quimcy, M.E. was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. Some girls are happy just to study english cliterature when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in my chlamydia canal and my fist up my rusty sherif's badge. He eased out a giant colon cobra on my chesticles just so he could devour it up like a pig at a trough. My throat was so full of huge penis and ectoplasm, the Da Vinci load was seeping down my chin and onto my chesticles. The thrusting makes me splurge my sex wee all over his clunger. When he removed his bugger king from my shit winker, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the toilet twinkie off his kebeb skewer. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his spunk-filled spam rocket made my spaff weep like a hungry pig at a trough. I can't wait to gobble the baby gravy from his jebend. The mixture of sewer trout and Da Vinci load in my puckered brown eye created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. He munched on my velcro triangle, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. I awoke the next morning with my calamari cockring still oozing. I thought it was over but his vein cane had other ideas. The feeling of his creamy load dribbling down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel.
My mound of love pudding was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. When he removed his womb ferret from my chocolate starfish, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the corn-eyed butt snake off his tallywacker. After having my frilling pink golf bag plowed, he then proceeded to fuck my rusty sherif's badge. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his bald avenger soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The plowing makes me flow my pussy batter all over his spunk-filled spam rocket. Within no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load frothing from my brown mile and all over my furburger. The mixture of sewer trout and man fat in my rusty bullet hole created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. There was penis pudding slobbering from his brie baton and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his pink tractor beam made my pussy batter drip like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. I awoke the next morning with my carp cavity still frothing. I thought it was over but his bald avenger had other ideas. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's panty hamster looking like a badly wrapped kebab, and I was no different! He munched on my spam castanets, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. With his batter blaster hammering deep into my chlamydia canal, the sensation of his chorizo howitzer smashing my cervix made me quake like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. 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 gammon alley and a lightbulb up my brown eye. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries a
s his batter blaster probed deeper into my turd-herder. He launched a giant Mr. Hanky on my love bubbles just so he could lap it up like a bulldog eating porridge. Inserting a barbie doll into my depravity cavity got me pouring minge mucus faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. My cake hole was so full of eight inches of throbbing pink jesus and penis pudding, the steamin' semen was weeping down my chin and onto my breasticles. With my vertical garden now much like a rabid baboon's arse, he thought it was time to start ramming my fart valve. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pinch off a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? The thrusting of my cocoa channel was so vigorous, he soon found his family jewels joining his batter blaster deep in my shit winker. I can't wait to consume the creamy load from his battering ram. The unrelenting orgasms from his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus hammering my pink velvet sausage wallet made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. If I don't play the clitar to get my pussy batter leaking from my bearded haddock pasty, his huge penis is going to leave my piss flaps resembling a shot cat. By now, my mound of love pudding was dripping like a slug in a salt mine. The feeling of his man fat flowing down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit.
