The Dream's Thorn

by Amy Woods

  With his timed slimer hammering deep into my gammon alley, the sensation of his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus smashing my cervix made me quiver like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. After having my vaginal bacon buffet slammed, he then proceeded to fuck my fart valve. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and love piss in my puckered brown eye created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his Nelson's Column soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He munched on my open-faced ham sandwich, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week. The hammering makes me squirt my vertical moisture all over his balony pony. There was ectoplasm foaming from his cunt plunger and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his one-eyed milkman probed deeper into my brown mile. He pitched a giant Mr. Hanky on my mammaries just so he could consume it up like a hungry hungry hippo. Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat slobbering from my brown eye and all over my vertical smile. I can't wait to devour the love piss from his one-eyed monster. The hammering of my poop chute was so vigorous, he soon found his sperm factories joining his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon deep in my marmite motorway. 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 whispering eye and an antique doorknob up my brown eye. It was bliss having his skin flute plunged inside me again; stuffing my tuna canal with a squash just didn't get my moose knuckle splurging like it used to. My cake hole was so full of batter blaster and man fat, the cock snot was frothing down my chin and onto my top bollocks. Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his cervix cigar made my vertical moisture foam like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. The feeling of his penis pudding draining down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's open-faced ham sandwich looking like Terry Waite's allotment, and I was no different! I awoke the next morning with my furry cup still flowing. I thought it was over but his blind butler had other ideas. If I don't play the clitar to get my flange custard haemorrhaging from my hatchet wound, his purple-headed trouser snake is going to leave my fishy flaps resembling a werewolf with it's throat cut. My clam-flavoured pothole was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. The unrelenting orgasms from his spunk-filled spam rocket hammering my slime hole made me come so hard, I began sweating like Gary glitter at PC World. When he removed his tallywacker from my fudge factory, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the corn-eyed butt snake off his one-eyed milkman. Inserting an egg timer into my cock holster got me spouting vertical moisture faster than a greased weasel shit. By now, my split peach was seeping like a hungry pig at a trough.

  After having my fuck trench pounded, he then proceeded to thrust my cocoa channel. There was steamin' semen slobbering from his Ocean's 11 Inches 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 batter blaster slid deeper into my mud flap. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his Ocean's 11 Inches made my vertical moisture drip like a slavering dog. It was bliss having his slut slayer slid inside me again; stuffing my furry cup with an egg timer just didn't get my shame portal ejecting like it used to. When he removed his spunk-filled spam rocket 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 suck the toilet twinkie off his turgid terror truncheon. He pinched off a giant colon cobra on my breasticles just so he could consume it up like a hungry hungry hippo. The mixture of colon cobra and love mayonnaise in my soft tight anus created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. Inserting an egg timer into my furry cup got me gushing shrimp sap faster than snot off a whip. The seemingly never-ending streams of gentleman's relish emanating from his flesh gordon soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. 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 cod cave and a 15" spiked vibrator up my other vagina. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's beef curtains looking like that bathroom door in The Shining, and I was no different! With my fishy flaps now much like a twisted slipper, he thought it was time to start stuffing my tradesman's entrance. Is now the time to tell him I really need to launch a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? The unrelenting orgasms from his balony pony pounding my soft-shelled tuna taco made me come so hard, I began sweating like a fat slag in a disco. My mouth was so full of devil's bagpipe and cock snot, the creamy load was trickling down my chin and onto my cans. If I don't buff the muff to get my shrimp sap dripping from my frilling pink golf bag, his womb raider is going to leave my open-faced ham sandwich resembling a manatee in yoga pants. My pink velvet sausage wallet was trembling like a shitting dog. With his tallywacker slamming deep into my ground zero grotto, the sensation of his chubstep smashing my cervix made me quiver like a rat on acid. I awoke the next morning with my spunk dungeon still seeping. I thought it was over but his spam javelin had other ideas. Within no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding seeping from my ring piece and all over my fishy flaps. The feeling of his steamin' semen sliming down my throat got my vertical moisture flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. I can't wait to lap the magician's wax from his battering ram. He munched on my lunchmeat, even though I'd been on the rag for the best part of a week. By now, my sperm socket was draining like a leaky tap. The fucking makes me eject my shrimp sap all over his huge penis.

  Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's furburger looking like a bulldog licking piss from a thistle, and I was no different! By now, my shame portal was haemorrhaging like a slug in a salt mine. The feeling of his love mayonnaise frothing down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. With his womb ferret plowing deep into my furry cup, the sensation of his love lollipop smashing my cervix made me quiver like jelly. When he removed his womb ferret from my marmite motorway, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the colon cobra off his spam dagger. The seemingly never-ending streams of gentleman's relish emanating from his turgid terror truncheon soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I awoke the next morning with my split peach still dripping. I thought it was over but his cervix cigar had other ideas. The unrelenting orgasms from his muffbuster slamming my mound of love pudding made me come so hard, I began sweating like a white mouse in a tampon factory. He copped a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my rack just so he could chow down on it up like a bulldog eating porridge. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his love muscle slid deeper into my ring piece. It was bliss having his timed slimer rammed inside me again; stuffing my mound of love pudding with a 9-iron just didn't get my fuck trench spattering like it used to. With my velcro triangle now much like a motorway pileup, he thought it was time to start ramming my vintage golf bag. Is now the time to tell him I really need to launch a butt nugget, I wondered? There was cock custard seeping from his blue-veined custard chucker and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his Ocean's 11 Inches made my vertical moisture haemorrhage like a broken coffee maker. If I don't audition the finger puppets to get my minge mucus dripping from my south mouth, his huge penis is going to leave my spam castanets resembling a bulldog licking piss from a thistle. After having my carp cavity raided, he then proceeded to raid my chocolate starfish. Inserting a barbie doll into my meat purse got me flowing shrimp sap faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. My pink velvet sausage wallet was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. My throat was so full of kebeb skewer and creamy load, the baby gravy was
sliming down my chin and onto my tatas. Some girls are happy just to play the clitar when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a number of chillies in my furry cup and an egg timer up my rusty sherif's badge. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock custard leaking from my turd cutter and all over my clap flaps. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and ectoplasm in my poo pipe created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. He munched on my furburger, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. The thrusting of my soft tight anus was so vigorous, he soon found his family jewels joining his battering ram deep in my mud flap. The raiding makes me flow my vertical moisture all over his muffbuster.

  The thrusting of my ring piece was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds joining his cheese-crusted cock deep in my Oxo orifice. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and steamin' semen in my fart valve created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. He munched on my beef curtains, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. Some girls are happy just to get a stinky pinky when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an antique doorknob in my soft-shelled tuna taco and a 9-iron up my brown mile. The feeling of his creamy load oozing down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his cheese-crusted cock made my shrimp sap leach like a leaky tap. I awoke the next morning with my vibration station still flowing. I thought it was over but his vein cane had other ideas. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen trickling from my other vagina and all over my velcro triangle. The seemingly never-ending streams of love piss emanating from his all-beef thermometer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My one slice toaster was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. With his kebeb skewer pounding deep into my carp cavity, the sensation of his mutton dagger smashing my cervix made me quiver like a tasered slab of chopped liver. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my Quimcy, M.E. got me squirting minge monsoon faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. By now, my front bum was dripping like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's open-faced ham sandwich looking like that bathroom door in The Shining, and I was no different! There was cock custard haemorrhaging from his chubstep 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 wrist-thick wand rammed deeper into my brown mile. The thrusting makes me eject my flange custard all over his all-beef thermometer. The unrelenting orgasms from his brie baton raiding my shame portal made me come so hard, I began sweating like a dyslexic on Countdown. With my panty hamster now much like a badly wrapped kebab, he thought it was time to start plunging my other vagina. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? After having my bearded haddock pasty pounded, he then proceeded to fuck my black hole. If I don't tune the tuna to get my beige slime foaming from my shame portal, his cream reaper is going to leave my vertical garden resembling a stuntman's knee. My throat was so full of chorizo howitzer and magician's wax, the steamin' semen was frothing down my chin and onto my mosquito bites. He pitched a giant butt nugget on my twin peaks just so he could consume it up like a pig at a trough. It was bliss having his throbbing quim dagger plunged inside me again; stuffing my cod canyon with a lightbulb just didn't get my cod canyon splurging like it used to. When he removed his bugger king from my rusty sherif's badge, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the sewer trout off his blue-veined custard chucker.

  If I don't finger blast to get my beige slime frothing from my shamevelope, his battering ram is going to leave my clap flaps resembling a blind cobbler's thumb. The unrelenting orgasms from his skin flute slamming my tampon tunnel made me come so hard, I began sweating like a paedo during a prison riot. He arced a giant toilet twinkie on my love bubbles just so he could suck it up like a bulldog eating porridge. Inserting a barbie doll into my cod crater got me spattering minge monsoon faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. I awoke the next morning with my municipal cockwash still oozing. I thought it was over but his bugger king had other ideas. With his pink tractor beam plowing deep into my bearded haddock pasty, the sensation of his love lollipop smashing my cervix made me quiver like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock snot seeping from my Oxo orifice and all over my hairy goblet. When he removed his devil's bagpipe from my Oxo orifice, he was pleasantly surprised to see a colon cobra staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the footlong fudge bullet off his thrill drill. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's flappy meal looking like a bulldog licking piss from a thistle, and I was no different! Some girls are happy just to stimulate the genitals through phalangetic motion when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an egg timer in my cod cave and a squash up my vintage golf bag. By now, my ruby cave was sliming like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. There was magician's wax weeping from his chorizo howitzer and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. My cake hole was so full of cunt plunger and penis pudding, the love piss was dripping down my chin and onto my top bollocks. After having my cod canyon slammed, he then proceeded to thrust my cocoa channel. I can't wait to chow down on the love piss from his washington monument. The plowing of my rusty sherif's badge was so vigorous, he soon found his two amigos joining his tallywacker deep in my rusty sherif's badge. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his cream reaper made my beige slime ooze like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and man fat in my other vagina created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. It was bliss having his thrill drill slid inside me again; stuffing my pink velvet sausage wallet with a number of chillies just didn't get my whispering eye pouring like it used to. The plowing makes me surge my minge monsoon all over his turgid terror truncheon. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his meaty member plunged deeper into my turd-herder. The feeling of his man fat sliming down my throat got my tuna tunnel tears flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. My fuck gutter was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. He munched on my vertical smile, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. With my furburger now much like that bathroom door in The Shining, he thought it was time to start probing my ring piece. Is now the time to tell him I really need to curl a toilet twinkie, I wondered?

  My cake hole was so full of ample cock and creamy load, the Da Vinci load was leaching down my chin and onto my mosquito bites. I awoke the next morning with my spunk dungeon still seeping. I thought it was over but his veiny quim prod had other ideas. By now, my wizards sleeve was dribbling like a jizz waterfall. Inserting a gerbil into my wunder down under got me spritzing shrimp sap faster than a greased weasel shit. 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 clearing in the woods and an antique doorknob up my puckered brown eye. The plowing of my soft tight anus was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds joining his cream reaper deep in my Oxo orifice. He eased out a giant colon cobra on my chest puppies just so he could chow down on it up like a bulldog eating porridge. After having my clearing in the woods fucked, he then proceeded to raid my rusty bullet hole. The unrelenting orgasms from his slut slayer plowing my frilling pink golf bag made me come so hard, I began sweating like a dyslexic on Countdown. My frilling pink golf bag was trembling like jelly. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and penis pudding in my Oxo orifice created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. The fucking makes me pour my spaff all over his throbbing quim dagger. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his disco stick soon had me coated
like a plasterer's radio. With his cheese-crusted cock hammering deep into my fuck trench, the sensation of his skin flute smashing my cervix made me quake like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. It was bliss having his love lollipop plunged inside me again; stuffing my shame portal with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my chlamydia canal splurging like it used to. If I don't play the clitar to get my shrimp sap weeping from my whispering eye, his purple beaver buster is going to leave my panty hamster resembling Brian May's plughole. When he removed his balony pony from my vintage golf bag, he was pleasantly surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the colon cobra off his timed slimer. I can't wait to consume the cock snot from his skeleton king. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love mayonnaise trickling from my soft tight anus and all over my clap flaps. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's furburger looking like a darts team's goalkeeper, and I was no different! Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his womb ferret plunged deeper into my chocolate starfish. He munched on my open-faced ham sandwich, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his disco stick made my vertical moisture slime like a broken coffee maker. The feeling of his gentleman's relish leaching down my throat got my sex wee flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. There was cock custard leaching from his kebeb skewer and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more.