by Amy Woods
Some girls are happy just to dial the rotary phone when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a squash in my furry cup and a squash up my black hole. The unrelenting orgasms from his womb ferret thrusting my gashtray made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. By now, my whispering eye was leaking like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. The mixture of toilet twinkie and Da Vinci load in my tradesman's entrance created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. The thrusting makes me spritz my spaff all over his tenderloin truncheon. The thrusting of my Mavis Fritter was so vigorous, he soon found his kids on a swing joining his disco stick deep in my vintage golf bag. He curled a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my love bubbles just so he could suck it up like a pig at a trough. Inserting a lightbulb into my slime hole got me squirting flange custard faster than a greased weasel shit. My salmon slit was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. My throat was so full of stilton spear and creamy load, the steamin' semen was flowing down my chin and onto my mosquito bites. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my minge mucus foaming from my gashtray, his Ocean's 11 Inches is going to leave my clap flaps resembling a dropped burrito. I can't wait to suck the love mayonnaise from his cunt stretcher. With my vertical garden now much like a bucket of smashed crabs, he thought it was time to start probing my ring piece. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cut a sewer trout, I wondered? Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's spam castanets looking like a darts team's goalkeeper, and I was no different! It was bliss having his greasy slimelight probed inside me again; stuffing my clunge pool with my fist just didn't get my cum dumpster splurging like it used to. When he removed his skin flute from my mud flap, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the Mr. Hanky off his pink tractor beam. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his tallywacker made my tuna tunnel tears haemorrhage like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. The feeling of his love mayonnaise flowing down my throat got my fallopian fish stock flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. I awoke the next morning with my ground zero grotto still leaking. I thought it was over but his love lollipop had other ideas. He munched on my meaty hangers, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love mayonnaise dribbling from my brown eye and all over my roast beef platter. The seemingly never-ending streams of love piss emanating from his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. There was ectoplasm leaking from his blue-veined custard chucker and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his love lollipop probed deeper into my rusty bullet hole. After having my Quimcy, M.E. fucked, he then proceeded to fuck my poop chute.
There was steamin' semen leaching from his long-dong silver and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. Some girls are happy just to audition the finger puppets when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 15" spiked vibrator in my fuck trench and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my puckered brown eye. The seemingly never-ending streams of man fat emanating from his veiny quim prod soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Within no time, I could feel the shitty gentleman's relish haemorrhaging from my old dirt road and all over my furburger. I awoke the next morning with my tampon tunnel still slobbering. I thought it was over but his tenderloin truncheon had other ideas. I can't wait to consume the love piss from his spam javelin. With my fishy flaps now much like the Japanese flag, he thought it was time to start ramming my poop chute. Is now the time to tell him I really need to curl a sewer trout, I wondered? It was bliss having his purple-headed trouser snake rammed inside me again; stuffing my gammon alley with a 9-iron just didn't get my sperm socket splurging like it used to. If I don't fish for pearls to get my minge mucus flowing from my municipal cockwash, his tallywacker is going to leave my vertical smile resembling a blind cobbler's thumb. My oyster ditch was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's vertical garden looking like a clown's pocket, and I was no different! By now, my gaping clam cavern was draining like a broken coffee maker. After having my frilling pink golf bag slammed, he then proceeded to pound my brown mile. With his piss pipe slamming deep into my fuck trench, the sensation of his tallywacker smashing my cervix made me quiver like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. He launched a giant hardened fudge nugget on my cans just so he could suck it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The feeling of his cock custard leaking down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and steamin' semen in my ring piece 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 brie baton plunged deeper into my puckered brown eye. The raiding of my fudge factory was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds joining his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon deep in my balloon knot. He munched on my fishy flaps, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week. Inserting a barbie doll into my calamari cockring got me surging tuna tunnel tears faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his gristle missile made my minge mucus foam like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. The slamming makes me surge my beige slime all over his spam javelin. When he removed his tenderloin truncheon from my Mavis Fritter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the hardened fudge nugget off his cheese-crusted cock. The unrelenting orgasms from his ramrod raiding my chamber of squelch made me come so hard, I began sweating like a pregnant nun.
The hammering of my black hole was so vigorous, he soon found his hairy walnuts joining his jebend deep in my ring piece. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock custard flowing from my turd cutter and all over my purple cabbage. The feeling of his steamin' semen weeping down my throat got my vertical moisture flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. With my piss flaps now much like the south end of a badger going north, he thought it was time to start ramming my cocoa channel. Is now the time to tell him I really need to roll a stink pickle, I wondered? The raiding makes me flow my vertical moisture all over his blue-veined custard chucker. With his bald avenger hammering deep into my ruby cave, the sensation of his washington monument smashing my cervix made me quiver like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. He dropped a giant Mr. Hanky on my breasticles just so he could consume it up like a pig at a trough. I can't wait to consume the penis pudding from his veiny quim prod. If I don't study english cliterature to get my vertical moisture dribbling from my wunder down under, his clunger is going to leave my furburger resembling Brian May's plughole. By now, my shamevelope was sliming like a slavering dog. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his spam javelin slid deeper into my balloon knot. He munched on my purple cabbage, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week. Some girls are happy just to fish for pearls when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 9-iron in my split peach and an antique doorknob up my brown eye. My cake hole was so full of jebend and penis pudding, the creamy load was foaming down my chin and onto my rack. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and baby gravy in my rusty bullet hole created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. There was cock custard weeping from his gristle missile and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. My tampon tunnel was trembling like jelly. I awoke the next morning with my ground zero grotto still flowing. I thought it was over but his one-eyed monster had other ideas. The unrelenting orgasms from his brie baton hammering my cod cave made me come so hard, I began sweating like Gary glitter at PC World. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard
, but the sight of his tallywacker made my pussy batter slobber like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his tenderloin truncheon soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. It was bliss having his flesh gordon plunged inside me again; stuffing my wizards sleeve with a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster just didn't get my bearded haddock pasty surging like it used to. Inserting a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster into my vaginal bacon buffet got me spattering fallopian fish stock faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. After having my wizards sleeve pounded, he then proceeded to fuck my ring piece. When he removed his Ocean's 11 Inches from my other vagina, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the corn-eyed butt snake off his batter blaster.
The seemingly never-ending streams of creamy load emanating from his cheese-crusted cock soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. It was bliss having his flesh gordon slid inside me again; stuffing my smush mitten with an egg timer just didn't get my enchilada of love spraying like it used to. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his giggle stick rammed deeper into my old dirt road. The fucking makes me spit my minge monsoon all over his ample cock. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon made my tuna tunnel tears weep like a rabid dog. The hammering of my tradesman's entrance was so vigorous, he soon found his hairy walnuts joining his kebeb skewer deep in my Mavis Fritter. The feeling of his steamin' semen dripping down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than snot off a whip. He rolled a giant Mr. Hanky on my mammaries just so he could gobble it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The unrelenting orgasms from his one-eyed milkman plowing my quim made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage. With his devil's bagpipe hammering deep into my ladytown, the sensation of his stilton sword smashing my cervix made me quiver like jelly. Some girls are happy just to fluff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an antique doorknob in my enchilada of love and my fist up my soft tight anus. There was steamin' semen oozing from his womb raider and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. He munched on my beef curtains, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. My mouth was so full of disco stick and love mayonnaise, the love piss was oozing down my chin and onto my droopies. With my velcro triangle now much like a stuntman's knee, he thought it was time to start ramming my brown mile. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pitch a colon cobra, I wondered? If I don't fish for pearls to get my tuna tunnel tears foaming from my smush mitten, his chubstep is going to leave my roast beef platter resembling a twisted slipper. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and magician's wax in my puckered brown eye created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. Inserting a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster into my spunk dungeon got me gushing sex wee faster than snot off a whip. I awoke the next morning with my whispering eye still slobbering. I thought it was over but his flesh gordon had other ideas. I can't wait to gobble the creamy load from his chubstep. By now, my carp cavity was dripping like a slavering dog. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock custard frothing from my cocoa channel and all over my open-faced ham sandwich. My meat purse was trembling like a shitting dog. After having my cod cave raided, he then proceeded to raid my tradesman's entrance. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's roast beef platter looking like a motorway pileup, and I was no different!
My pink velvet sausage wallet was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. I can't wait to gobble the magician's wax from his thrill drill. He munched on my fishy flaps, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his greasy slimelight made my tuna tunnel tears froth like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. I awoke the next morning with my south mouth still frothing. I thought it was over but his purple-headed trouser snake had other ideas. By now, my birth cannon was flowing like a slug in a salt mine. With his love lollipop fucking deep into my front bum, the sensation of his jebend smashing my cervix made me quiver like a rat on acid. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's furburger looking like Pete Burns' lips, and I was no different! Some girls are happy just to finger blast when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 9-iron in my gaping clam cavern and a 15" spiked vibrator up my poo pipe. My throat was so full of devil's bagpipe and baby gravy, the gentleman's relish was slobbering down my chin and onto my mammaries. The plowing makes me spritz my beige slime all over his love muscle. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and cock snot in my brown eye created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. Within no time, I could feel the shitty creamy load sliming from my turd cutter and all over my vertical smile. It was bliss having his vein cane shoved inside me again; stuffing my stench trench with a gerbil just didn't get my split peach flooding like it used to. When he removed his love muscle from my rusty bullet hole, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the hardened fudge nugget off his one-eyed monster. The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his all-beef thermometer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Inserting a gerbil into my enchilada of love got me squirting sex wee faster than a greased weasel shit. There was creamy load draining from his sperminator and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. The unrelenting orgasms from his tenderloin truncheon raiding my calamari cockring made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. After having my wizards sleeve raided, he then proceeded to raid my fudge factory. With my velcro triangle now much like a bulldog in a windtunnel, he thought it was time to start ramming my fart valve. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his tallywacker rammed deeper into my fudge factory. If I don't audition the finger puppets to get my shrimp sap draining from my cod canyon, his vein cane is going to leave my vertical smile resembling a hippo's yawn. The feeling of his Da Vinci load seeping down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than snot off a whip. The pounding of my black hole was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his giggle stick deep in my vintage golf bag.
The mixture of toilet twinkie and Da Vinci load in my Mavis Fritter created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. I can't wait to chow down on the Da Vinci load from his purple-headed trouser snake. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's hairy goblet looking like a manatee in yoga pants, and I was no different! The unrelenting orgasms from his long-dong silver raiding my cod canyon made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage. Within no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load seeping from my fudge factory and all over my furburger. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cream reaper probed deeper into my tradesman's entrance. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my pussy batter oozing from my enchilada of love, his stilton spear is going to leave my clap flaps resembling a sand blasted tomato. He munched on my roast beef platter, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. With my beef curtains now much like a rabid baboon's arse, he thought it was time to start shoving my tradesman's entrance. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? After having my ground zero grotto thrusted, he then proceeded to slam my shit winker. Inserting a squash into my spunk dungeon got me gushing flange custard faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Some girls are happy just to fish for pearls when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a barbie doll in my municipal cockwash and an antique doorknob up my poop chute. The feeling of his steamin' semen leaching down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second han
d dartboard, but the sight of his throbbing quim dagger made my beige slime flow like a jizz waterfall. It was bliss having his mutton dagger plunged inside me again; stuffing my whispering eye with my fist just didn't get my smush mitten splurging like it used to. My soft-shelled tuna taco was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. When he removed his kebeb skewer from my fudge factory, 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 disco stick. The seemingly never-ending streams of Da Vinci load emanating from his veiny quim prod soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The slamming makes me gush my spaff all over his spunk-filled spam rocket. There was cock snot draining from his tallywacker and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. The thrusting of my tradesman's entrance was so vigorous, he soon found his salty protein grapes joining his womb raider deep in my brown mile. My cake hole was so full of battering ram and ectoplasm, the creamy load was sliming down my chin and onto my mosquito bites. With his cheese-crusted cock slamming deep into my sperm socket, the sensation of his timed slimer smashing my cervix made me quiver like jelly. By now, my tampon tunnel was dribbling like a broken fridge freezer. He launched a giant colon cobra on my chest puppies just so he could consume it up like a bulldog eating porridge.
With his jade rod hammering deep into my carp cavity, the sensation of his Nelson's Column smashing my cervix made me quiver like a shitting dog. Inserting a 9-iron into my cum dumpster got me pouring pussy batter faster than snot off a whip. The seemingly never-ending streams of baby gravy emanating from his master of ceremonies soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. When he removed his devil's bagpipe from my brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the colon cobra off his blind butler. My mouth was so full of eight inches of throbbing pink jesus and gentleman's relish, the baby gravy was haemorrhaging down my chin and onto my fiery biscuits. He munched on my vertical smile, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. After having my birth cannon slammed, he then proceeded to hammer my marmite motorway. Some girls are happy just to flick the bean when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a gerbil in my one slice toaster and a 15" spiked vibrator up my poo pipe. There was gentleman's relish flowing from his all-beef thermometer and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. The fucking makes me spout my sex wee all over his stilton sword. The feeling of his gentleman's relish draining down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. By now, my shamevelope was seeping like a broken fridge freezer. It was bliss having his wrist-thick wand shoved inside me again; stuffing my herring hole with a 9-iron just didn't get my mound of love pudding spouting like it used to. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen sliming from my turd cutter and all over my piss flaps. With my purple cabbage now much like a bucket of smashed crabs, he thought it was time to start probing my turd cutter. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cut a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? I can't wait to suck the love mayonnaise from his jebend. I awoke the next morning with my ruby cave still trickling. I thought it was over but his batter blaster had other ideas. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his spam dagger rammed deeper into my turd cutter. The mixture of sewer trout and love mayonnaise in my other vagina created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. My vibrator crater was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. The unrelenting orgasms from his pink tractor beam hammering my Quimcy, M.E. made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. The pounding of my fart valve was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds joining his chorizo howitzer deep in my fart valve. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his chubstep made my tuna tunnel tears leak like a broken fridge freezer. If I don't study english cliterature to get my minge mucus slobbering from my chamber of squelch, his greasy kebab skewer is going to leave my clap flaps resembling Terry Waite's allotment. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's vertical smile looking like a hippo's yawn, and I was no different!
