The Dream's Thorn

by Amy Woods

  Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat dripping from my poop chute and all over my beef curtains. If I don't flick the bean to get my spaff leaching from my cod canyon, his mutton dagger is going to leave my clap flaps resembling a werewolf with it's throat cut. He munched on my clap flaps, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. My ground zero grotto was trembling like a shitting dog. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his clunger made my beige slime froth like a broken coffee maker. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's beef curtains looking like Terry Waite's allotment, and I was no different! After having my kipper dinghy plowed, he then proceeded to hammer my tradesman's entrance. Some girls are happy just to flick the bean when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a barbie doll in my ladytown and an antique doorknob up my brown eye. The fucking of my turd-herder was so vigorous, he soon found his chin pounders joining his stilton spear deep in my puckered brown eye. It was bliss having his spunk-filled spam rocket stuffed inside me again; stuffing my cod cave with an egg timer just didn't get my shame portal surging like it used to. Inserting a barbie doll into my shame portal got me spritzing vertical moisture faster than snot off a whip. There was penis pudding sliming from his tallywacker and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his timed slimer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. By now, my wizards sleeve was haemorrhaging like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. With his cunt plunger slamming deep into my meat purse, the sensation of his blind butler smashing my cervix made me quiver like a rat on acid. He rolled a giant colon cobra on my mammaries just so he could suck it up like a pig at a trough. The thrusting makes me pour my minge monsoon all over his wrist-thick wand. My mouth was so full of blind butler and magician's wax, the cock custard was oozing down my chin and onto my tatas. With my roast beef platter now much like an over inflated dinghy, he thought it was time to start sliding my turd-herder. Is now the time to tell him I really need to launch a butt nugget, I wondered? The feeling of his love mayonnaise slobbering down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than snot off a whip. I can't wait to lap the love piss from his wrist-thick wand. The mixture of colon cobra and ectoplasm in my marmite motorway created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. The unrelenting orgasms from his chorizo howitzer pounding my sperm socket made me come so hard, I began sweating like a fat slag in a disco. When he removed his meaty member from my puckered brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the corn-eyed butt snake off his greasy slimelight. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his stilton spear probed deeper into my poo pipe.

  With his cunt stretcher plowing deep into my gaping clam cavern, the sensation of his cheese-crusted cock smashing my cervix made me quiver like a tasered slab of chopped liver. By now, my spunk dungeon was oozing like a slug in a salt mine. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his chorizo howitzer rammed deeper into my ring piece. The feeling of his Da Vinci load slobbering down my throat got my fallopian fish stock flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his timed slimer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my beige slime slobbering from my herring hole, his jebend is going to leave my roast beef platter resembling a ripped out fireplace. The unrelenting orgasms from his bald-headed yogurt slinger plowing my depravity cavity made me come so hard, I began sweating like a midget nun at a penguin shoot. My clearing in the woods was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. The thrusting of my cocoa channel was so vigorous, he soon found his family jewels joining his huge penis deep in my balloon knot. There was magician's wax foaming from his tenderloin truncheon and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. With my flappy meal now much like a dropped burrito, he thought it was time to start stuffing my poop chute. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? I can't wait to suck the Da Vinci load from his master of ceremonies. Within no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding flowing from my black hole and all over my furburger. When he removed his veiny quim prod from my mud flap, 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 womb ferret. I awoke the next morning with my clam-flavoured pothole still flowing. I thought it was over but his ample cock had other ideas. My mouth was so full of devil's bagpipe and ectoplasm, the baby gravy was leaching down my chin and onto my superdroopers. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and magician's wax in my fudge factory created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. After having my frilling pink golf bag pounded, he then proceeded to thrust my poo pipe. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's velcro triangle looking like a hippo's yawn, and I was no different! Some girls are happy just to strum the banjo when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 9-iron in my clam-flavoured pothole and a lightbulb up my fudge factory. He extruded a giant stink pickle on my breasticles just so he could devour it up like a bulldog eating porridge. He munched on my open-faced ham sandwich, even though I'd been on the rag for the best part of a week. It was bliss having his spunk-filled spam rocket plunged inside me again; stuffing my sperm socket with my fist just didn't get my enchilada of love spouting like it used to. The pounding makes me flood my spaff all over his ramrod. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his chubstep made my flange custard slobber like a George Foreman grill.

  Within no time, I could feel the shitty love piss sliming from my turd-herder and all over my clap flaps. I awoke the next morning with my spunk dungeon still dribbling. I thought it was over but his cumtree had other ideas. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his meaty member made my tuna tunnel tears leak like a hungry pig at a trough. If I don't buff the muff to get my beige slime foaming from my sperm socket, his piss pipe is going to leave my panty hamster resembling a rabid baboon's arse. The mixture of stink pickle and baby gravy in my soft tight anus created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. My kipper dinghy was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's purple cabbage looking like John Wayne's saddlebags, and I was no different! The raiding of my cocoa channel was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds joining his purple-headed trouser snake deep in my mud flap. He crowned a giant Mr. Hanky on my mosquito bites just so he could suck it up like a pig at a trough. The seemingly never-ending streams of man fat emanating from his Ocean's 11 Inches soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My throat was so full of eight inches of throbbing pink jesus and creamy load, the love piss was flowing down my chin and onto my mosquito bites. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his devil's bagpipe probed deeper into my fart valve. With his Ocean's 11 Inches thrusting deep into my municipal cockwash, the sensation of his spam dagger smashing my cervix made me quake like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. By now, my salmon slit was leaching like a slug in a salt mine. Inserting an egg timer into my herring hole got me spraying pussy batter faster than a greased weasel shit. The unrelenting orgasms from his spam dagger plowing my municipal cockwash made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. It was bliss having his ample cock stuffed inside me again; stuffing my sperm socket with a lightbulb just didn't get my fuck gutter pouring like it used to. When he removed his huge penis from my mud flap, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the butt nugget off his cunt plunger. Some girls are happy just to dial the rotary phone when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a lightbulb in my tuna canal and a number of chillies up my other
vagina. There was magician's wax haemorrhaging from his long-dong silver and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. With my hairy goblet now much like a twisted slipper, he thought it was time to start sliding my poop chute. Is now the time to tell him I really need to blast a butt nugget, I wondered? He munched on my vertical smile, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week. After having my ruby cave hammered, he then proceeded to thrust my poo pipe. The fucking makes me flow my beige slime all over his huge penis. The feeling of his baby gravy slobbering down my throat got my vertical moisture flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel.

  Inserting a barbie doll into my herring hole got me splurging flange custard faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. If I don't flick the bean to get my shrimp sap haemorrhaging from my chlamydia canal, his gristle missile is going to leave my flappy meal resembling a stuntman's knee. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his thrill drill made my clunge gunge drip like a jizz waterfall. The seemingly never-ending streams of creamy load emanating from his skeleton king soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With his spam javelin thrusting deep into my fuck trench, the sensation of his wensleydale wand smashing my cervix made me quiver like a shitting dog. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his brie baton slid deeper into my brown eye. Within no time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm dripping from my fart valve and all over my vertical smile. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's lunchmeat looking like a stamped bat, and I was no different! He cut a giant toilet twinkie on my superdroopers just so he could gobble it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The plowing of my marmite motorway was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his pink tractor beam deep in my marmite motorway. There was baby gravy sliming from his womb raider and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. Some girls are happy just to get a stinky pinky when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a lightbulb in my gashtray and a number of chillies up my mud flap. It was bliss having his thrill drill rammed inside me again; stuffing my cum dumpster with a lightbulb just didn't get my carp cavity spritzing like it used to. The pounding makes me squirt my tuna tunnel tears all over his Nelson's Column. He munched on my panty hamster, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. The unrelenting orgasms from his devil's bagpipe raiding my vaginal bacon buffet made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. When he removed his bugger king from my brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the hardened fudge nugget off his piss pipe. By now, my hot pocket was trickling like a slug in a salt mine. My mouth was so full of jade rod and magician's wax, the gentleman's relish was trickling down my chin and onto my tatas. My vaginal bacon buffet was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and creamy load in my fudge factory created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. I awoke the next morning with my wunder down under still oozing. I thought it was over but his stilton sword had other ideas. With my furburger now much like a ripped out fireplace, he thought it was time to start shoving my shit winker. Is now the time to tell him I really need to blast a colon cobra, I wondered? After having my gaping clam cavern plowed, he then proceeded to hammer my mud flap. The feeling of his cock snot seeping down my throat got my vertical moisture flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit.

  The seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his greasy slimelight soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Inserting my fist into my carp cavity got me surging minge monsoon faster than a greased weasel shit. By now, my wizards sleeve was leaching like a slug in a salt mine. I awoke the next morning with my pink velvet sausage wallet still leaching. I thought it was over but his cunt plunger had other ideas. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love mayonnaise slobbering from my brown eye and all over my spam castanets. The slamming of my brown mile was so vigorous, he soon found his man marbles joining his master of ceremonies deep in my old dirt road. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his brie baton plunged deeper into my turd cutter. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his tenderloin truncheon made my flange custard weep like a jizz waterfall. Some girls are happy just to get a stinky pinky when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a squash in my depravity cavity and my fist up my fart valve. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and steamin' semen in my other vagina created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's spam castanets looking like a manatee in yoga pants, and I was no different! He pinched off a giant colon cobra on my droopies just so he could lap it up like a bulldog eating porridge. When he removed his womb ferret from my brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the footlong fudge bullet off his blue-veined custard chucker. The slamming makes me squirt my sex wee all over his spunk-filled spam rocket. The unrelenting orgasms from his blue-veined custard chucker fucking my hot pocket made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. After having my chlamydia canal plowed, he then proceeded to fuck my puckered brown eye. He munched on my roast beef platter, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. With my vertical smile now much like John Wayne's saddlebags, he thought it was time to start ramming my cocoa channel. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pitch a stink pickle, I wondered? My cake hole was so full of one-eyed monster and love piss, the magician's wax was oozing down my chin and onto my boobage. I can't wait to suck the love piss from his love muscle. My carp cavity was trembling like a rat on acid. With his one-eyed milkman hammering deep into my vibrator crater, the sensation of his skin flute smashing my cervix made me quiver like a rat on acid. The feeling of his baby gravy sliming down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than snot off a whip. It was bliss having his flesh gordon stuffed inside me again; stuffing my salmon slit with an antique doorknob just didn't get my south mouth gushing like it used to. There was cock snot weeping from his long-dong silver and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more.

  I awoke the next morning with my fuck gutter still dripping. I thought it was over but his turgid terror truncheon had other ideas. The plowing of my rusty sherif's badge was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his blind butler deep in my other vagina. With his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon thrusting deep into my cod cave, the sensation of his womb ferret smashing my cervix made me quake like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. It was bliss having his battering ram rammed inside me again; stuffing my vibrator crater with a squash just didn't get my one slice toaster flooding like it used to. I can't wait to chow down on the creamy load from his purple beaver buster. If I don't stimulate the genitals through phalangetic motion to get my sex wee dribbling from my vaginal bacon buffet, his cream reaper is going to leave my spam castanets resembling a twisted slipper. After having my gammon alley plowed, he then proceeded to plow my mud flap. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock custard draining from my old dirt road and all over my piss flaps. Inserting a lightbulb into my chamber of squelch got me squirting vertical moisture faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. With my hairy goblet now much like a shot cat, he thought it was time to start sliding my brown mile. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pinch off a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? The seemingly never-ending streams of ectoplasm emanating from his thrill drill soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his one-eyed monster made my vertical moisture seep like a broken coffee maker. By now, my fuck trench was slobbering like a leaky tap. He copped a giant butt nugget on my mammaries just so he could chow down on it up like a pig at a trough. He munc
hed on my vertical smile, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's fishy flaps looking like the south end of a badger going north, and I was no different! The mixture of colon cobra and man fat in my Oxo orifice created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. My cake hole was so full of battering ram and love mayonnaise, the man fat was seeping down my chin and onto my superdroopers. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cream reaper shoved deeper into my rusty sherif's badge. When he removed his long-dong silver from my soft tight anus, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the toilet twinkie off his cunt stretcher. Some girls are happy just to stimulate the genitals through phalangetic motion when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in my clunge pool and an egg timer up my old dirt road. My one slice toaster was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. There was penis pudding oozing from his skin flute and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. The feeling of his man fat oozing down my throat got my sex wee flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. The hammering makes me spritz my sex wee all over his muffbuster.