The Dream's Thorn

by Amy Woods

  After having my stench trench pounded, he then proceeded to thrust my brown mile. The seemingly never-ending streams of gentleman's relish emanating from his tallywacker soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my soft-shelled tuna taco got me squirting shrimp sap faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. He cut a giant toilet twinkie on my droopies just so he could devour it up like a bulldog eating porridge. When he removed his stilton sword from my rusty sherif's badge, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the colon cobra off his huge penis. Some girls are happy just to finger blast when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an antique doorknob in my mound of love pudding and a lightbulb up my shit winker. The unrelenting orgasms from his wrist-thick wand pounding my wunder down under made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. The hammering makes me spritz my minge monsoon all over his all-beef thermometer. The feeling of his steamin' semen slobbering down my throat got my vertical moisture flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's clap flaps looking like that bathroom door in The Shining, and I was no different! With his greasy kebab skewer thrusting deep into my meat purse, the sensation of his skin flute smashing my cervix made me quake like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. There was creamy load oozing from his greasy slimelight and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. The plowing of my turd cutter was so vigorous, he soon found his salty protein grapes joining his love lollipop deep in my old dirt road. My stench trench was trembling like a shitting dog. Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his cervix cigar made my minge monsoon drip like a broken fridge freezer. I can't wait to lap the cock snot from his Nelson's Column. The mixture of stink pickle and ectoplasm in my tradesman's entrance created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. It was bliss having his tallywacker shoved inside me again; stuffing my cock holster with a 9-iron just didn't get my pink velvet sausage wallet gushing like it used to. I awoke the next morning with my depravity cavity still dripping. I thought it was over but his jebend had other ideas. My mouth was so full of sperminator and cock snot, the Da Vinci load was draining down my chin and onto my top bollocks. Within no time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm dribbling from my old dirt road and all over my piss flaps. With my meaty hangers now much like a gutted trout, he thought it was time to start stuffing my balloon knot. Is now the time to tell him I really need to arc a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? If I don't strum the banjo to get my fallopian fish stock sliming from my penis pothole, his tallywacker is going to leave my furburger resembling a hippo's yawn. By now, my shamevelope was slobbering like a slavering dog. He munched on my vertical smile, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week.

  With my clap flaps now much like a blind cobbler's thumb, he thought it was time to start shoving my Mavis Fritter. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pitch a colon cobra, I wondered? When he removed his veiny quim prod from my turd-herder, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the footlong fudge bullet off his greasy kebab skewer. By now, my soft-shelled tuna taco was weeping like a hungry pig at a trough. He munched on my flappy meal, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. I can't wait to devour the Da Vinci load from his jade rod. The seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from his throbbing quim dagger soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The feeling of his baby gravy flowing down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than snot off a whip. The thrusting of my cocoa channel was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his balony pony deep in my balloon knot. Inserting a barbie doll into my pink velvet sausage wallet got me gushing sex wee faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. My birth cannon was trembling like a rat on acid. With his batter blaster pounding deep into my spunk dungeon, the sensation of his vein cane smashing my cervix made me quiver like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. After having my cum dumpster plowed, he then proceeded to plow my turd cutter. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his veiny quim prod made my clunge gunge ooze like a slavering dog. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his gristle missile plunged deeper into my marmite motorway. It was bliss having his timed slimer probed inside me again; stuffing my furry cup with a squash just didn't get my chlamydia canal ejecting like it used to. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's meaty hangers looking like Terry Waite's allotment, and I was no different! The mixture of butt nugget and love mayonnaise in my brown eye created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. I awoke the next morning with my ground zero grotto still flowing. I thought it was over but his tallywacker had other ideas. There was steamin' semen draining from his Ocean's 11 Inches and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. The hammering makes me spout my spaff all over his brie baton. My throat was so full of blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon and cock custard, the cock snot was frothing down my chin and onto my rack. The unrelenting orgasms from his one-eyed milkman plowing my enchilada of love made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. Some girls are happy just to finger blast when they're alone, but I can't get off without having my fist in my shamevelope and an antique doorknob up my turd cutter. If I don't finger blast to get my shrimp sap slobbering from my split peach, his spam javelin is going to leave my clap flaps resembling a blind cobbler's thumb. He blasted a giant sewer trout on my droopies just so he could consume it up like a bulldog eating porridge.

  Some girls are happy just to get a stinky pinky when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 9-iron in my hot pocket and a barbie doll up my poo pipe. He munched on my roast beef platter, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. The unrelenting orgasms from his womb raider hammering my ground zero grotto made me come so hard, I began sweating like a whore in a confessional. With my flappy meal now much like a shot cat, he thought it was time to start ramming my brown mile. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pitch a stink pickle, I wondered? The mixture of sewer trout and ectoplasm in my shit winker created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's vertical smile looking like the Japanese flag, and I was no different! The fucking makes me spit my shrimp sap all over his chorizo howitzer. After having my hot pocket raided, 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 spam javelin probed deeper into my brown mile. I can't wait to chow down on the love mayonnaise from his jade rod. When he removed his Nelson's Column from my turd cutter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the footlong fudge bullet off his one-eyed monster. I awoke the next morning with my carp cavity still oozing. I thought it was over but his cunt stretcher had other ideas. By now, my chamber of squelch was leaking like a slavering dog. The pounding of my mud flap was so vigorous, he soon found his jingle-jangle jewellery joining his huge penis deep in my Oxo orifice. The feeling of his steamin' semen draining down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. My throat was so full of skeleton king and cock custard, the ectoplasm was flowing down my chin and onto my cans. The seemingly never-ending streams of love piss emanating from his purple-headed trouser snake soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. There was magician's wax weeping from his stilton sword and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. Within no time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm foaming from my black hole and all over my velcro triangle. Inserting an egg timer into my ruby cave got me ejecting minge mucus faster than snot off a whip. With his brie baton raiding deep into my cod canyon, the sensation of his bald avenger smashing my cervix made me q
uiver like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his spunk-filled spam rocket made my pussy batter flow like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. It was bliss having his brie baton rammed inside me again; stuffing my cock holster with a barbie doll just didn't get my gaping clam cavern spattering like it used to. He arced a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my tatas just so he could suck it up like a pig at a trough. If I don't flick the bean to get my clunge gunge dripping from my kipper dinghy, his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus is going to leave my vertical smile resembling a dropped burrito.

  My kipper dinghy was trembling like a shitting dog. There was penis pudding leaking from his Ocean's 11 Inches and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. Inserting a gerbil into my salmon slit got me flooding flange custard faster than snot off a whip. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and cock snot in my chocolate starfish created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. The pounding makes me splurge my sex wee all over his skin flute. With his brie baton slamming deep into my smush mitten, the sensation of his master of ceremonies smashing my cervix made me quake like jelly. The unrelenting orgasms from his cream reaper pounding my cod canyon made me come so hard, I began sweating like a midget nun at a penguin shoot. The feeling of his creamy load seeping down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. My mouth was so full of muffbuster and penis pudding, the magician's wax was seeping down my chin and onto my mammaries. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's hairy goblet looking like that bathroom door in The Shining, and I was no different! If I don't finger blast to get my clunge gunge flowing from my mound of love pudding, his one-eyed milkman is going to leave my furburger resembling a bulldog licking piss from a thistle. He eased out a giant colon cobra on my sweater puppies just so he could consume it up like a bulldog eating porridge. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his flesh gordon slid deeper into my marmite motorway. The slamming of my brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his sperm factories joining his ample cock deep in my turd cutter. I awoke the next morning with my depravity cavity still sliming. I thought it was over but his love lollipop had other ideas. With my hairy goblet now much like an over inflated dinghy, he thought it was time to start stuffing my balloon knot. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pitch a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? I can't wait to devour the man fat from his womb raider. Within no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load dribbling from my balloon knot and all over my piss flaps. When he removed his jade rod from my cocoa channel, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the butt nugget off his giggle stick. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his cunt stretcher made my clunge gunge ooze like a jizz waterfall. It was bliss having his greasy kebab skewer probed inside me again; stuffing my hatchet wound with a squash just didn't get my sperm socket spritzing like it used to. He munched on my spam castanets, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. The seemingly never-ending streams of Da Vinci load emanating from his greasy kebab skewer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. After having my calamari cockring plowed, he then proceeded to thrust my other vagina. By now, my tuna canal was dribbling like a George Foreman grill.

  Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's clap flaps looking like Pete Burns' lips, and I was no different! My herring hole was trembling like a shitting dog. I can't wait to consume the ectoplasm from his cunt stretcher. When he removed his bald avenger from my tradesman's entrance, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the Mr. Hanky off his stilton sword. Inserting my fist into my soft-shelled tuna taco got me ejecting fallopian fish stock faster than a greased weasel shit. With his clunger plowing deep into my cod canyon, the sensation of his spunk-filled spam rocket smashing my cervix made me quiver like jelly. The feeling of his creamy load sliming down my throat got my flange custard flowing quicker than snot off a whip. After having my one slice toaster plowed, he then proceeded to fuck my Mavis Fritter. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and magician's wax in my other vagina created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. My throat was so full of womb ferret and gentleman's relish, the love piss was frothing down my chin and onto my superdroopers. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen sliming from my tradesman's entrance and all over my spam castanets. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his veiny quim prod shoved deeper into my tradesman's entrance. I awoke the next morning with my furry cup still dripping. I thought it was over but his veiny quim prod had other ideas. Some girls are happy just to audition the finger puppets when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a gerbil in my fuck gutter and a lightbulb up my puckered brown eye. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his ample cock made my minge monsoon slobber like a hungry pig at a trough. With my purple cabbage now much like the south end of a badger going north, he thought it was time to start stuffing my black hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cut a butt nugget, I wondered? It was bliss having his huge penis plunged inside me again; stuffing my clam-flavoured pothole with a squash just didn't get my gashtray pouring like it used to. There was penis pudding flowing from his stilton sword and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. He extruded a giant colon cobra on my sweater puppies just so he could devour it up like a pig at a trough. The unrelenting orgasms from his batter blaster plowing my ground zero grotto made me come so hard, I began sweating like Gary glitter at PC World. The seemingly never-ending streams of man fat emanating from his Nelson's Column soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. By now, my clunge pool was weeping like a broken coffee maker. If I don't fluff the muff to get my spaff frothing from my ladytown, his cumtree is going to leave my hairy goblet resembling a shot cat. The plowing of my Oxo orifice was so vigorous, he soon found his sperm factories joining his cervix cigar deep in my black hole.

  After having my split peach fucked, he then proceeded to raid my Mavis Fritter. My mouth was so full of pink tractor beam and love mayonnaise, the gentleman's relish was frothing down my chin and onto my top bollocks. If I don't strum the banjo to get my tuna tunnel tears flowing from my smush mitten, his cunt stretcher is going to leave my lunchmeat resembling a shot cat. The pounding of my black hole was so vigorous, he soon found his hairy walnuts joining his spunk-filled spam rocket deep in my mud flap. I can't wait to lap the man fat from his mutton dagger. With my meaty hangers now much like a gutted trout, he thought it was time to start sliding my poop chute. Is now the time to tell him I really need to arc a toilet twinkie, I wondered? By now, my clam-flavoured pothole was slobbering like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. He munched on my meaty hangers, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. There was love mayonnaise sliming from his bald-headed yogurt slinger and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. The feeling of his magician's wax flowing down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Some girls are happy just to fluff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in my clam-flavoured pothole and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my brown mile. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and creamy load in my poo pipe created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his spam dagger made my minge mucus seep like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's clap flaps looking like a gutted trout, and I was no different! It was bliss having his tenderloin truncheon plunged inside me again; stuffing my quim with my fist just didn't get my stench trench flooding
like it used to. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his blue-veined custard chucker slid deeper into my Oxo orifice. The seemingly never-ending streams of baby gravy emanating from his tallywacker soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. When he removed his washington monument from my soft tight anus, 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 footlong fudge bullet off his womb ferret. Inserting a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster into my mound of love pudding got me flooding sex wee faster than snot off a whip. The unrelenting orgasms from his disco stick plowing my cod canyon made me come so hard, I began sweating like Mike Tyson at a spelling bee. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock custard trickling from my brown mile and all over my vertical garden. The slamming makes me spout my minge monsoon all over his bald-headed yogurt slinger. He pitched a giant sewer trout on my droopies just so he could consume it up like a hungry hungry hippo. With his brie baton slamming deep into my birth cannon, the sensation of his jebend smashing my cervix made me quiver like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. I awoke the next morning with my sperm socket still seeping. I thought it was over but his sperminator had other ideas.

  Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his stilton sword made my pussy batter dribble like a broken fridge freezer. My mouth was so full of muffbuster and penis pudding, the love piss was haemorrhaging down my chin and onto my boobage. By now, my kipper dinghy was leaking like a slavering dog. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's furburger looking like Pete Burns' lips, and I was no different! I can't wait to devour the love piss from his huge penis. He cut a giant sewer trout on my sweater puppies just so he could suck it up like a pig at a trough. I awoke the next morning with my carp cavity still haemorrhaging. I thought it was over but his battering ram had other ideas. It was bliss having his stilton sword stuffed inside me again; stuffing my whispering eye with my fist just didn't get my quim spritzing like it used to. Inserting an egg timer into my wunder down under got me surging pussy batter faster than snot off a whip. When he removed his love lollipop from my ring piece, 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 bald avenger. The unrelenting orgasms from his cunt stretcher slamming my gaping clam cavern made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage. The thrusting of my tradesman's entrance was so vigorous, he soon found his man marbles joining his purple-headed trouser snake deep in my brown eye. My clunge pool was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. The feeling of his baby gravy slobbering down my throat got my flange custard flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. He munched on my open-faced ham sandwich, even though I'd been on the rag for the best part of a week. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cervix cigar stuffed deeper into my rusty sherif's badge. If I don't stimulate the genitals through phalangetic motion to get my fallopian fish stock oozing from my gammon alley, his piss pipe is going to leave my piss flaps resembling badly battered road kill. With his love lollipop hammering deep into my spunk dungeon, the sensation of his one-eyed milkman smashing my cervix made me quiver like a tasered slab of chopped liver. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock snot dripping from my fart valve and all over my beef curtains. The raiding makes me eject my spaff all over his brie baton. The seemingly never-ending streams of gentleman's relish emanating from his purple beaver buster soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With my hairy goblet now much like a bucket of smashed crabs, he thought it was time to start sliding my mud flap. Is now the time to tell him I really need to extrude a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? After having my chamber of squelch plowed, he then proceeded to hammer my ring piece. There was Da Vinci load seeping from his tallywacker and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. The mixture of colon cobra and Da Vinci load in my poop chute created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of.