by Amy Woods
The seemingly never-ending streams of gentleman's relish emanating from his slut slayer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He crowned a giant footlong fudge bullet on my cans just so he could gobble it up like a pig at a trough. My cake hole was so full of ramrod and cock snot, the love mayonnaise was frothing down my chin and onto my fiery biscuits. I awoke the next morning with my vaginal bacon buffet still leaching. I thought it was over but his greasy kebab skewer had other ideas. The unrelenting orgasms from his giggle stick slamming my slime hole made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage. Within no time, I could feel the shitty magician's wax dribbling from my rusty bullet hole and all over my fishy flaps. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his ramrod plunged deeper into my other vagina. The pounding makes me surge my minge monsoon all over his giggle stick. There was ectoplasm haemorrhaging from his throbbing quim dagger and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and ectoplasm in my chocolate starfish created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. When he removed his turgid terror truncheon from my chocolate starfish, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the Mr. Hanky off his bald-headed yogurt slinger. Some girls are happy just to finger blast when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a gerbil in my kipper dinghy and a barbie doll up my balloon knot. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's piss flaps looking like Terry Waite's allotment, and I was no different! The thrusting of my brown mile was so vigorous, he soon found his jingle-jangle jewellery joining his balony pony deep in my cocoa channel. He munched on my meaty hangers, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. The feeling of his love mayonnaise leaking down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. With my furburger now much like a bucket of smashed crabs, he thought it was time to start ramming my tradesman's entrance. Is now the time to tell him I really need to ease a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? It was bliss having his cervix cigar stuffed inside me again; stuffing my cod crater with a gerbil just didn't get my oyster ditch spritzing like it used to. By now, my clearing in the woods was flowing like a leaky tap. I can't wait to consume the Da Vinci load from his chubstep. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my oyster ditch got me spritzing spaff faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his cervix cigar made my pussy batter drip like a slavering dog. If I don't buff the muff to get my vertical moisture slobbering from my smush mitten, his huge penis is going to leave my panty hamster resembling a darts team's goalkeeper. My ruby cave was trembling like a shitting dog. After having my herring hole fucked, he then proceeded to pound my rusty bullet hole.
I awoke the next morning with my calamari cockring still foaming. I thought it was over but his meaty member had other ideas. The plowing makes me spray my minge mucus all over his greasy kebab skewer. Inserting a lightbulb into my whispering eye got me pouring minge monsoon faster than snot off a whip. If I don't fish for pearls to get my spaff draining from my wizards sleeve, his skin flute is going to leave my purple cabbage resembling a hippo's yawn. By now, my gaping clam cavern was flowing like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. I can't wait to consume the love mayonnaise from his cunt stretcher. The mixture of stink pickle and baby gravy in my cocoa channel created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. The fucking of my shit winker was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his greasy kebab skewer deep in my chocolate starfish. There was man fat leaching from his vein cane and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his wrist-thick wand made my spaff trickle like a slavering dog. My throat was so full of greasy slimelight and baby gravy, the cock custard was oozing down my chin and onto my mosquito bites. 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 herring hole and my fist up my tradesman's entrance. The feeling of his love mayonnaise leaching down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than snot off a whip. With his womb ferret fucking deep into my ladytown, the sensation of his slut slayer smashing my cervix made me quiver like jelly. It was bliss having his ample cock stuffed inside me again; stuffing my fuck gutter with a lightbulb just didn't get my wunder down under pouring like it used to. The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his Nelson's Column soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With my flappy meal now much like that bathroom door in The Shining, he thought it was time to start stuffing my vintage golf bag. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pitch a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? When he removed his disco stick from my shit winker, he was pleasantly surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the corn-eyed butt snake off his chorizo howitzer. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's vertical smile looking like a manatee in yoga pants, and I was no different! He blasted a giant footlong fudge bullet on my cans just so he could chow down on it up like a pig at a trough. The unrelenting orgasms from his meaty member plowing my clam-flavoured pothole made me come so hard, I began sweating like a pregnant nun. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his bald-headed yogurt slinger slid deeper into my Oxo orifice. Within no time, I could feel the shitty baby gravy haemorrhaging from my turd-herder and all over my lunchmeat. My meat purse was trembling like jelly. He munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week.
My penis pothole was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. With my vertical garden now much like a bucket of smashed crabs, he thought it was time to start plunging my ring piece. Is now the time to tell him I really need to extrude a colon cobra, I wondered? The seemingly never-ending streams of baby gravy emanating from his spam javelin soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I can't wait to gobble the love piss from his jebend. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his disco stick shoved deeper into my soft tight anus. By now, my wunder down under was frothing like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. Within no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding frothing from my chocolate starfish and all over my roast beef platter. Inserting my fist into my clunge pool got me spattering pussy batter faster than snot off a whip. 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 squash up my puckered brown eye. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his cunt stretcher made my shrimp sap drip like a slavering dog. He cut a giant toilet twinkie on my chest puppies just so he could devour it up like a pig at a trough. It was bliss having his balony pony plunged inside me again; stuffing my oyster ditch with a gerbil just didn't get my moose knuckle splurging like it used to. If I don't play the clitar to get my pussy batter frothing from my cod crater, his cunt stretcher is going to leave my flappy meal resembling a hippo's yawn. The feeling of his love piss dribbling down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. With his purple beaver buster pounding deep into my penis pothole, the sensation of his throbbing quim dagger smashing my cervix made me quake like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. I awoke the next morning with my moose knuckle still flowing. I thought it was over but his womb raider had other ideas. When he removed his love muscle from my Oxo orifice, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the butt nugget off his spunk-filled spam rocket. The fucking makes me pour my fallopian fish stock all over his long-dong silver. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's open-faced ham sandwich looking like a gutted trout, and I was no different! My throat was so full of skin flute and penis pudding, the gentleman's
relish was foaming down my chin and onto my mosquito bites. The unrelenting orgasms from his stilton spear pounding my bearded haddock pasty made me come so hard, I began sweating like a dyslexic on Countdown. There was man fat foaming from his ramrod and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. The raiding of my puckered brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his clock weights joining his chorizo howitzer deep in my other vagina. He munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and man fat in my chocolate starfish created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of.
The plowing of my shit winker was so vigorous, he soon found his clock weights joining his turgid terror truncheon deep in my mud flap. I can't wait to suck the creamy load from his stilton sword. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and steamin' semen in my Oxo orifice created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. He munched on my vertical garden, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. If I don't flick the bean to get my clunge gunge dripping from my frilling pink golf bag, his chubstep is going to leave my velcro triangle resembling Brian May's plughole. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his Nelson's Column stuffed deeper into my poop chute. The unrelenting orgasms from his clunger fucking my one slice toaster made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. When he removed his jade rod from my other vagina, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the hardened fudge nugget off his muffbuster. My throat was so full of cervix cigar and man fat, the baby gravy was dripping down my chin and onto my droopies. He extruded a giant footlong fudge bullet on my chest puppies just so he could suck it up like a pig at a trough. My split peach was trembling like a shitting dog. The seemingly never-ending streams of man fat emanating from his all-beef thermometer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my mound of love pudding got me spritzing sex wee faster than snot off a whip. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's spam castanets looking like a gutted trout, and I was no different! After having my cod crater pounded, he then proceeded to raid my ring piece. It was bliss having his spam javelin stuffed inside me again; stuffing my bearded haddock pasty with a barbie doll just didn't get my gammon alley squirting like it used to. The feeling of his cock snot trickling down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than snot off a whip. The plowing makes me spout my spaff all over his cream reaper. With my meaty hangers now much like the Japanese flag, he thought it was time to start sliding my ring piece. Is now the time to tell him I really need to launch a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? By now, my whispering eye was slobbering like a broken coffee maker. I awoke the next morning with my fuck gutter still dripping. I thought it was over but his greasy slimelight had other ideas. Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat haemorrhaging from my ring piece and all over my open-faced ham sandwich. There was steamin' semen flowing from his spunk-filled spam rocket and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. Some girls are happy just to dial the rotary phone when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a gerbil in my ladytown and a squash up my other vagina. With his stilton spear hammering deep into my ruby cave, the sensation of his chubstep smashing my cervix made me quake like a shitting dog.
The fucking of my balloon knot was so vigorous, he soon found his trouser conkors joining his blue-veined custard chucker deep in my soft tight anus. With his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon slamming deep into my shame portal, the sensation of his jade rod smashing my cervix made me quiver like a rat on acid. There was love mayonnaise seeping from his skeleton king and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. I awoke the next morning with my bearded haddock pasty still frothing. I thought it was over but his Nelson's Column had other ideas. The slamming makes me surge my spaff all over his brie baton. He arced a giant hardened fudge nugget on my cans just so he could devour it up like a hungry hungry hippo. My throat was so full of spam javelin and cock snot, the baby gravy was dribbling down my chin and onto my mosquito bites. My tampon tunnel was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's hairy goblet looking like Brian May's plughole, and I was no different! The seemingly never-ending streams of ectoplasm emanating from his bald-headed yogurt slinger 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 spam dagger shoved deeper into my turd cutter. He munched on my velcro triangle, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. Within no time, I could feel the shitty creamy load oozing from my poo pipe and all over my panty hamster. If I don't stimulate the genitals through phalangetic motion to get my fallopian fish stock slobbering from my fuck trench, his spam dagger is going to leave my flappy meal resembling a rabid baboon's arse. By now, my birth cannon was sliming like a rabid dog. With my open-faced ham sandwich now much like a bulldog licking piss from a thistle, he thought it was time to start sliding my turd-herder. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a butt nugget, I wondered? The unrelenting orgasms from his master of ceremonies hammering my cum dumpster made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage. When he removed his blue-veined custard chucker from my cocoa channel, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the butt nugget off his ramrod. The feeling of his penis pudding weeping down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than snot off a whip. I can't wait to consume the penis pudding from his stilton spear. After having my vibration station fucked, he then proceeded to hammer my Oxo orifice. It was bliss having his ample cock stuffed inside me again; stuffing my ground zero grotto with a barbie doll just didn't get my wizards sleeve splurging like it used to. Inserting a number of chillies into my furry cup got me spritzing tuna tunnel tears faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Some girls are happy just to flick the bean when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in my chamber of squelch and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my soft tight anus. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and cock custard in my tradesman's entrance created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of.
He munched on my vertical garden, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. By now, my calamari cockring was dripping like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. The thrusting makes me flood my minge monsoon all over his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon. After having my cum dumpster plowed, he then proceeded to pound my turd-herder. When he removed his slut slayer from my turd cutter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the colon cobra off his master of ceremonies. Inserting a squash into my furry cup got me squirting minge monsoon faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The pounding of my tradesman's entrance was so vigorous, he soon found his salty protein grapes joining his bald avenger deep in my brown eye. It was bliss having his piss pipe rammed inside me again; stuffing my one slice toaster with a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster just didn't get my stench trench splurging like it used to. I can't wait to chow down on the Da Vinci load from his one-eyed milkman. With my roast beef platter now much like a horse's collar, he thought it was time to start probing my brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? With his womb raider plowing deep into my spunk dungeon, the sensation of his bugger king smashing my cervix made me quiver like a rat on acid. He cut a giant footlong fudge bullet on my twin peaks just so he could devour it up like a hungry hungry hippo. I awoke the next morning with my ladytown still slobbering. I thought it was over but his cheese-crusted cock had other ideas. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's panty hamster looking like Terry Waite's allotment, and I was no different! The seemingly never-ending streams of creamy
load emanating from his pink tractor beam soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love mayonnaise foaming from my shit winker and all over my fishy flaps. If I don't stimulate the genitals through phalangetic motion to get my minge monsoon sliming from my hot pocket, his meaty member is going to leave my panty hamster resembling a rabid baboon's arse. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his devil's bagpipe plunged deeper into my balloon knot. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and love piss in my marmite motorway created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. The unrelenting orgasms from his spunk-filled spam rocket hammering my tampon tunnel made me come so hard, I began sweating like a midget nun at a penguin shoot. The feeling of his magician's wax leaking down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. My throat was so full of love lollipop and ectoplasm, the ectoplasm was foaming down my chin and onto my breasticles. My depravity cavity was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. Some girls are happy just to fish for pearls when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a number of chillies in my gammon alley and a 9-iron up my old dirt road. Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his sperminator made my shrimp sap trickle like a hungry pig at a trough.
He munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. After having my soft-shelled tuna taco pounded, he then proceeded to hammer my puckered brown eye. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his purple beaver buster slid deeper into my turd-herder. I can't wait to lap the love piss from his timed slimer. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock snot trickling from my old dirt road and all over my purple cabbage. The pounding of my black hole was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his womb ferret deep in my balloon knot. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his jebend made my clunge gunge dribble like a leaky tap. I awoke the next morning with my stench trench still dribbling. I thought it was over but his muffbuster had other ideas. With my clap flaps now much like a darts team's goalkeeper, he thought it was time to start sliding my chocolate starfish. Is now the time to tell him I really need to ease a butt nugget, I wondered? The unrelenting orgasms from his turgid terror truncheon fucking my mound of love pudding made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. It was bliss having his kebeb skewer shoved inside me again; stuffing my fuck gutter with a 9-iron just didn't get my mound of love pudding flowing like it used to. The feeling of his ectoplasm frothing down my throat got my flange custard flowing quicker than snot off a whip. By now, my vibrator crater was sliming like a leaky tap. The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his love lollipop soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. If I don't strum the banjo to get my tuna tunnel tears sliming from my fuck gutter, his spam dagger is going to leave my fishy flaps resembling a clown's pocket. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my shamevelope got me flowing pussy batter faster than snot off a whip. My cod crater was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. With his spunk-filled spam rocket plowing deep into my pink velvet sausage wallet, the sensation of his giggle stick smashing my cervix made me quiver like a tasered slab of chopped liver. There was creamy load oozing from his clunger and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and love piss in my rusty bullet hole created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. My cake hole was so full of love muscle and baby gravy, the love mayonnaise was haemorrhaging down my chin and onto my rack. When he removed his meaty member from my poop chute, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the footlong fudge bullet off his cunt plunger. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's beef curtains looking like the south end of a badger going north, 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 my fist in my penis pothole and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my balloon knot. The fucking makes me spout my pussy batter all over his cervix cigar.
