by Amy Woods
He pitched a giant colon cobra on my sweater puppies just so he could gobble it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The pounding of my marmite motorway was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his stilton spear deep in my other vagina. I can't wait to gobble the gentleman's relish from his long-dong silver. With my piss flaps now much like a werewolf with it's throat cut, he thought it was time to start stuffing my marmite motorway. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a toilet twinkie, I wondered? Within no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load foaming from my puckered brown eye and all over my clap flaps. If I don't study english cliterature to get my spaff slobbering from my front bum, his spam javelin is going to leave my meaty hangers resembling a bulldog licking piss from a thistle. With his skeleton king thrusting deep into my smush mitten, the sensation of his brie baton smashing my cervix made me quiver like a tasered slab of chopped liver. My mouth was so full of disco stick and love mayonnaise, the steamin' semen was haemorrhaging down my chin and onto my tatas. He munched on my flappy meal, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's roast beef platter looking like a clown's pocket, and I was no different! When he removed his huge penis 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 chow down on the colon cobra off his spam javelin. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his stilton spear stuffed deeper into my poo pipe. I awoke the next morning with my cock holster still slobbering. I thought it was over but his wrist-thick wand had other ideas. The hammering makes me spritz my beige slime all over his cumtree. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his slut slayer made my sex wee seep like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. The seemingly never-ending streams of creamy load emanating from his pink tractor beam soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The mixture of butt nugget and cock snot in my old dirt road created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. My ground zero grotto was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. After having my pink velvet sausage wallet thrusted, he then proceeded to thrust my cocoa channel. Some girls are happy just to flick the bean when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a squash in my chamber of squelch and a number of chillies up my soft tight anus. Inserting a gerbil into my calamari cockring got me surging flange custard faster than a greased weasel shit. The unrelenting orgasms from his ramrod raiding my cod cave made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. By now, my enchilada of love was slobbering like a broken coffee maker. There was penis pudding frothing from his brie baton and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. The feeling of his love mayonnaise trickling down my throat got my fallopian fish stock flowing quicker than snot off a whip.
The pounding makes me flow my sex wee all over his pink tractor beam. When he removed his all-beef thermometer from my poo pipe, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the colon cobra off his throbbing quim dagger. Some girls are happy just to dial the rotary phone when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an egg timer in my wunder down under and a 9-iron up my rusty sherif's badge. The feeling of his magician's wax flowing down my throat got my sex wee flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. The unrelenting orgasms from his bald-headed yogurt slinger slamming my chlamydia canal made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. If I don't stimulate the genitals through phalangetic motion to get my minge mucus leaching from my split peach, his ramrod is going to leave my purple cabbage resembling a werewolf with it's throat cut. The seemingly never-ending streams of love piss emanating from his jade rod soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My throat was so full of blue-veined custard chucker and magician's wax, the magician's wax was trickling down my chin and onto my boobage. With my clap flaps now much like a sand blasted tomato, he thought it was time to start ramming my brown mile. Is now the time to tell him I really need to roll a butt nugget, I wondered? With his wensleydale wand plowing deep into my fuck gutter, the sensation of his wensleydale wand smashing my cervix made me quiver like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. I awoke the next morning with my smush mitten still frothing. I thought it was over but his vein cane had other ideas. The mixture of sewer trout and baby gravy in my poo pipe created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. After having my gaping clam cavern slammed, he then proceeded to plow my vintage golf bag. Inserting my fist into my quim got me pouring fallopian fish stock faster than snot off a whip. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his washington monument made my minge mucus flow like a slavering dog. It was bliss having his Ocean's 11 Inches rammed inside me again; stuffing my shamevelope with a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster just didn't get my one slice toaster flooding like it used to. My stench trench was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his slut slayer slid deeper into my rusty bullet hole. He munched on my purple cabbage, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock snot flowing from my fudge factory and all over my clap flaps. The raiding of my turd cutter was so vigorous, he soon found his two amigos joining his giggle stick deep in my vintage golf bag. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's fishy flaps looking like a badly wrapped kebab, and I was no different! By now, my shame portal was leaching like a slavering dog. There was creamy load seeping from his cunt stretcher and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. I can't wait to gobble the steamin' semen from his washington monument.
The mixture of butt nugget and creamy load in my tradesman's entrance created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. The slamming of my marmite motorway was so vigorous, he soon found his clock weights joining his love lollipop deep in my brown eye. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his chubstep soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I can't wait to devour the penis pudding from his spam javelin. He munched on my beef curtains, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. With my vertical garden now much like a badly wrapped kebab, he thought it was time to start sliding my fudge factory. Is now the time to tell him I really need to blast a sewer trout, I wondered? I awoke the next morning with my smush mitten still dripping. I thought it was over but his cervix cigar had other ideas. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his meaty member made my fallopian fish stock leach like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. By now, my bearded haddock pasty was dripping like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. It was bliss having his brie baton stuffed inside me again; stuffing my frilling pink golf bag with a 9-iron just didn't get my cod canyon splurging like it used to. Inserting a squash into my meat purse got me spritzing vertical moisture faster than snot off a whip. After having my smush mitten thrusted, he then proceeded to slam my mud flap. Some girls are happy just to flick the bean when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a number of chillies in my salmon slit and a 9-iron up my Oxo orifice. When he removed his veiny quim prod from my poo pipe, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the stink pickle off his spam dagger. There was cock custard slobbering from his vein cane 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 turgid terror truncheon probed deeper into my rusty bullet hole. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen leaking from my fudge factory and all over my open-faced ham sandwich. The feeling of his cock custard sliming down my throat got my beige slime flowing quicker than snot off a whip. With his one-eyed milkman fucking deep into my vaginal bacon buffet, the sensation of his long-dong silver smashing my cervix mad
e me quake like a shitting dog. If I don't strum the banjo to get my clunge gunge foaming from my bearded haddock pasty, his skeleton king is going to leave my vertical smile resembling a darts team's goalkeeper. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's flappy meal looking like an over inflated dinghy, and I was no different! He extruded a giant stink pickle on my top bollocks just so he could gobble it up like a pig at a trough. The unrelenting orgasms from his cream reaper fucking my ruby cave made me come so hard, I began sweating like a paedo during a prison riot. My mouth was so full of wrist-thick wand and creamy load, the man fat was slobbering down my chin and onto my top bollocks. My municipal cockwash was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery.
The seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his blue-veined custard chucker soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. By now, my cum dumpster was leaking like a George Foreman grill. He eased out a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my sweater puppies just so he could suck it up like a hungry hungry hippo. With my meaty hangers now much like a badly wrapped kebab, he thought it was time to start probing my fudge factory. Is now the time to tell him I really need to curl a butt nugget, I wondered? I awoke the next morning with my depravity cavity still weeping. I thought it was over but his disco stick had other ideas. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his wrist-thick wand shoved deeper into my fudge factory. My cake hole was so full of skin flute and creamy load, the steamin' semen was seeping down my chin and onto my superdroopers. The unrelenting orgasms from his blind butler fucking my clunge pool made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. My cod crater was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. It was bliss having his cheese-crusted cock probed inside me again; stuffing my wizards sleeve with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my depravity cavity flooding like it used to. With his skin flute fucking deep into my salmon slit, the sensation of his giggle stick smashing my cervix made me quiver like a tasered slab of chopped liver. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and steamin' semen in my puckered brown eye created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. After having my calamari cockring fucked, he then proceeded to raid my Oxo orifice. Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat frothing from my puckered brown eye and all over my beef curtains. There was steamin' semen flowing from his huge penis and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. When he removed his battering ram from my marmite motorway, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the Mr. Hanky off his bald avenger. The pounding of my old dirt road was so vigorous, he soon found his man berries joining his throbbing quim dagger deep in my rusty sherif's badge. 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 other vagina. The feeling of his Da Vinci load sliming down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's panty hamster looking like a manatee in yoga pants, and I was no different! If I don't fish for pearls to get my pussy batter seeping from my shame portal, his chorizo howitzer is going to leave my meaty hangers resembling the south end of a badger going north. Inserting a barbie doll into my depravity cavity got me spattering minge monsoon faster than snot off a whip. I can't wait to devour the steamin' semen from his huge penis. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his one-eyed milkman made my fallopian fish stock slime like a leaky tap. The hammering makes me squirt my fallopian fish stock all over his slut slayer.
I awoke the next morning with my vibrator crater still foaming. I thought it was over but his one-eyed milkman had other ideas. The unrelenting orgasms from his greasy slimelight raiding my split peach made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and Da Vinci load in my turd-herder created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. If I don't fish for pearls to get my sex wee haemorrhaging from my penis pothole, his bugger king is going to leave my piss flaps resembling a werewolf with it's throat cut. The raiding makes me gush my minge monsoon all over his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus. Some girls are happy just to buff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in my smush mitten and a 15" spiked vibrator up my chocolate starfish. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen flowing from my Mavis Fritter and all over my open-faced ham sandwich. He pitched a giant footlong fudge bullet on my superdroopers just so he could chow down on it up like a hungry hungry hippo. It was bliss having his disco stick plunged inside me again; stuffing my cod cave with an antique doorknob just didn't get my meat purse spattering like it used to. Inserting a barbie doll into my gaping clam cavern got me flowing shrimp sap faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. When he removed his mutton dagger from my chocolate starfish, he was pleasantly surprised to see a colon cobra staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the toilet twinkie off his skeleton king. With my purple cabbage now much like a dropped burrito, he thought it was time to start plunging my balloon knot. Is now the time to tell him I really need to ease a sewer trout, I wondered? There was baby gravy seeping from his timed slimer and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. He munched on my vertical smile, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. The raiding of my rusty sherif's badge was so vigorous, he soon found his sperm factories joining his one-eyed monster deep in my fudge factory. After having my salmon slit raided, he then proceeded to plow my black hole. The feeling of his cock snot sliming down my throat got my vertical moisture flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The seemingly never-ending streams of penis pudding emanating from his all-beef thermometer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. By now, my gashtray was dripping like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his cumtree made my spaff slobber like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. My mouth was so full of clunger and penis pudding, the penis pudding was trickling down my chin and onto my droopies. I can't wait to lap the creamy load from his one-eyed monster. With his flesh gordon plowing deep into my soft-shelled tuna taco, the sensation of his wrist-thick wand smashing my cervix made me quake like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his jebend shoved deeper into my balloon knot. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's spam castanets looking like a werewolf with it's throat cut, and I was no different!
Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his womb raider made my clunge gunge foam like a rabid dog. Within no time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm weeping from my fudge factory and all over my lunchmeat. The slamming makes me splurge my sex wee all over his battering ram. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his master of ceremonies 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 Nelson's Column stuffed deeper into my soft tight anus. The unrelenting orgasms from his Ocean's 11 Inches raiding my wizards sleeve made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage. My throat was so full of love muscle and man fat, the man fat was frothing down my chin and onto my superdroopers. With my panty hamster now much like a werewolf with it's throat cut, he thought it was time to start sliding my puckered brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? After having my ground zero grotto raided, he then proceeded to fuck my black hole. By now, my Quimcy, M.E. was flowing like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. If I don't stimulate the genitals through phalangetic motion to get my flange custard dripping from my tampon tunnel, his cervix cigar is going to leave my vertical garden resembling the Japanese flag. He munched on my flappy meal, even th
ough I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. With his devil's bagpipe thrusting deep into my frilling pink golf bag, the sensation of his tenderloin truncheon smashing my cervix made me quake like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. I awoke the next morning with my pink velvet sausage wallet still weeping. I thought it was over but his Nelson's Column had other ideas. My slime hole was trembling like a rat on acid. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and baby gravy in my old dirt road created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. The feeling of his baby gravy frothing down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Some girls are happy just to strum the banjo when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 15" spiked vibrator in my soft-shelled tuna taco and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my black hole. It was bliss having his one-eyed monster slid inside me again; stuffing my cod cave with a squash just didn't get my herring hole splurging like it used to. The thrusting of my ring piece was so vigorous, he soon found his man berries joining his disco stick deep in my Mavis Fritter. Inserting a squash into my calamari cockring got me pouring tuna tunnel tears faster than a greased weasel shit. There was ectoplasm trickling from his bald avenger and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. I can't wait to consume the cock custard from his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon. He launched a giant stink pickle on my boobage just so he could suck it up like a pig at a trough. When he removed his sperminator from my rusty bullet hole, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the sewer trout off his bald-headed yogurt slinger.
