by Amy Woods
If I don't audition the finger puppets to get my minge monsoon dribbling from my vibration station, his meaty member is going to leave my hairy goblet resembling a manatee in yoga pants. The unrelenting orgasms from his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon pounding my chlamydia canal made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. The raiding of my turd cutter was so vigorous, he soon found his man marbles joining his timed slimer deep in my other vagina. He eased out a giant stink pickle on my fiery biscuits just so he could suck it up like a bulldog eating porridge. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his piss pipe made my spaff trickle like a jizz waterfall. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his mutton dagger soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Inserting a squash into my depravity cavity got me ejecting vertical moisture faster than a greased weasel shit. I can't wait to devour the love piss from his clunger. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his giggle stick stuffed deeper into my old dirt road. By now, my sperm socket was oozing like a rabid dog. There was man fat flowing from his clunger and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. When he removed his stilton sword from my poop chute, 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 sewer trout off his tallywacker. After having my clam-flavoured pothole pounded, he then proceeded to slam my poo pipe. I awoke the next morning with my south mouth still flowing. I thought it was over but his pink tractor beam had other ideas. Some girls are happy just to fluff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a lightbulb in my front bum and a lightbulb up my Oxo orifice. The feeling of his baby gravy dribbling down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than snot off a whip. It was bliss having his blue-veined custard chucker stuffed inside me again; stuffing my chamber of squelch with a number of chillies just didn't get my slime hole surging 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 pounding makes me gush my minge mucus all over his blind butler. The mixture of colon cobra and Da Vinci load in my poop chute created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's piss flaps looking like Brian May's plughole, and I was no different! My municipal cockwash was trembling like a shitting dog. Within no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding trickling from my brown mile and all over my roast beef platter. With his tenderloin truncheon plowing deep into my gaping clam cavern, the sensation of his cheese-crusted cock smashing my cervix made me quiver like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. My cake hole was so full of love lollipop and baby gravy, the baby gravy was trickling down my chin and onto my twin peaks.
I awoke the next morning with my pink velvet sausage wallet still haemorrhaging. I thought it was over but his jebend had other ideas. The pounding of my soft tight anus was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds joining his bugger king deep in my black hole. With his veiny quim prod raiding deep into my enchilada of love, the sensation of his disco stick smashing my cervix made me quiver like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock snot draining from my brown mile and all over my clap flaps. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his spam dagger made my spaff ooze like a broken coffee maker. My fuck trench was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. The unrelenting orgasms from his bugger king raiding my soft-shelled tuna taco made me come so hard, I began sweating like a midget nun at a penguin shoot. The slamming makes me eject my pussy batter all over his washington monument. He munched on my fishy flaps, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. By now, my mound of love pudding was seeping like a jizz waterfall. With my fishy flaps now much like a shot cat, he thought it was time to start sliding my rusty bullet hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a sewer trout, I wondered? Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his thrill drill shoved deeper into my rusty bullet hole. When he removed his meaty member from my other vagina, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the butt nugget off his cunt stretcher. The mixture of sewer trout and penis pudding in my cocoa channel created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. If I don't stimulate the genitals through phalangetic motion to get my fallopian fish stock seeping from my vaginal bacon buffet, his turgid terror truncheon is going to leave my flappy meal resembling that bathroom door in The Shining. I can't wait to gobble the love piss from his pink tractor beam. Some girls are happy just to audition the finger puppets when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a number of chillies in my chamber of squelch and a 15" spiked vibrator up my rusty bullet hole. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his greasy slimelight soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. There was cock custard draining from his all-beef thermometer and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. The feeling of his baby gravy dripping down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. It was bliss having his mutton dagger rammed inside me again; stuffing my fuck gutter with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my carp cavity flowing like it used to. He cut a giant sewer trout on my top bollocks just so he could devour it up like a bulldog eating porridge. After having my kipper dinghy fucked, he then proceeded to pound my Oxo orifice. Inserting a 9-iron into my cod canyon got me ejecting fallopian fish stock faster than snot off a whip. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's vertical garden looking like a clown's pocket, and I was no different!
I can't wait to suck the steamin' semen from his muffbuster. Inserting my fist into my cod canyon got me pouring sex wee faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. He crowned a giant toilet twinkie on my chest puppies just so he could gobble it up like a pig at a trough. There was penis pudding leaking from his thrill drill and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. My throat was so full of bald-headed yogurt slinger and baby gravy, the baby gravy was weeping down my chin and onto my droopies. It was bliss having his all-beef thermometer rammed inside me again; stuffing my mound of love pudding with a barbie doll just didn't get my carp cavity spattering like it used to. The feeling of his cock custard dribbling down my throat got my tuna tunnel tears flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. With his timed slimer plowing deep into my kipper dinghy, the sensation of his vein cane smashing my cervix made me quiver like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. When he removed his love lollipop from my turd-herder, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the hardened fudge nugget off his master of ceremonies. Some girls are happy just to audition the finger puppets when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an antique doorknob in my cum dumpster and my fist up my balloon knot. With my roast beef platter now much like a horse's collar, he thought it was time to start shoving my Mavis Fritter. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pinch off a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? After having my split peach plowed, he then proceeded to thrust my brown eye. I awoke the next morning with my spunk dungeon still leaching. I thought it was over but his chorizo howitzer had other ideas. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's panty hamster looking like Pete Burns' lips, and I was no different! The plowing makes me spit my fallopian fish stock all over his huge penis. By now, my Quimcy, M.E. was seeping like a slavering dog. The unrelenting orgasms from his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon fucking my split peach made me come so hard, I began sweating like a dyslexic on Countdown. The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his ramrod soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his vein cane made my fallopian fish stock slobber like a jizz waterfall. If I don't flick the bean to get my tuna tunnel tears dribbling from my vib
rator crater, his disco stick is going to leave my beef curtains resembling a bucket of smashed crabs. The thrusting of my fart valve was so vigorous, he soon found his man berries joining his blue-veined custard chucker deep in my Mavis Fritter. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love mayonnaise slobbering from my old dirt road and all over my beef curtains. My vibrator crater was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and steamin' semen in my cocoa channel created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. He munched on my flappy meal, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week.
The seemingly never-ending streams of man fat emanating from his bugger king soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. There was creamy load haemorrhaging from his devil's bagpipe and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. He munched on my furburger, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. The slamming makes me eject my fallopian fish stock all over his spam dagger. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's meaty hangers looking like the Japanese flag, and I was no different! When he removed his vein cane from my balloon knot, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the sewer trout off his slut slayer. The unrelenting orgasms from his Nelson's Column slamming my meat purse made me come so hard, I began sweating like a paedo during a prison riot. My throat was so full of devil's bagpipe and penis pudding, the Da Vinci load was leaking down my chin and onto my twin peaks. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his cream reaper made my minge monsoon trickle like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my pussy batter foaming from my municipal cockwash, his washington monument is going to leave my fishy flaps resembling a stamped bat. With my piss flaps now much like a manatee in yoga pants, he thought it was time to start ramming my Oxo orifice. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a toilet twinkie, I wondered? I awoke the next morning with my birth cannon still sliming. I thought it was over but his purple-headed trouser snake had other ideas. Inserting a barbie doll into my slime hole got me spraying clunge gunge faster than snot off a whip. I can't wait to devour the love piss from his tenderloin truncheon. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love piss leaking from my fart valve and all over my panty hamster. Some girls are happy just to fluff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a number of chillies in my wizards sleeve and a gerbil up my poo pipe. The fucking of my Mavis Fritter was so vigorous, he soon found his trouser conkors joining his jebend deep in my poo pipe. He pinched off a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my breasticles just so he could consume it up like a hungry hungry hippo. The mixture of colon cobra and man fat in my brown mile created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. My Quimcy, M.E. was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. After having my gashtray fucked, he then proceeded to pound my balloon knot. The feeling of his ectoplasm haemorrhaging down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than snot off a whip. With his cheese-crusted cock thrusting deep into my wunder down under, the sensation of his balony pony smashing my cervix made me quake like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. By now, my ladytown was weeping like a slug in a salt mine. It was bliss having his blue-veined custard chucker slid inside me again; stuffing my cock holster with a 9-iron just didn't get my birth cannon spraying like it used to.
It was bliss having his tallywacker rammed inside me again; stuffing my split peach with an antique doorknob just didn't get my calamari cockring spraying like it used to. I can't wait to consume the magician's wax from his Nelson's Column. By now, my hatchet wound was leaching like a hungry pig at a trough. After having my kipper dinghy raided, he then proceeded to thrust my marmite motorway. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's velcro triangle looking like a bucket of smashed crabs, and I was no different! Within no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load dripping from my other vagina and all over my meaty hangers. The hammering of my puckered brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his scroto baggins joining his batter blaster deep in my other vagina. If I don't fluff the muff to get my pussy batter draining from my gashtray, his batter blaster is going to leave my open-faced ham sandwich resembling a ripped out fireplace. The mixture of stink pickle and baby gravy in my turd-herder created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. The seemingly never-ending streams of ectoplasm emanating from his spunk-filled spam rocket soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. When he removed his cervix cigar from my brown mile, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the butt nugget off his brie baton. The thrusting makes me flow my pussy batter all over his gristle missile. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my mound of love pudding got me spattering spaff faster than a greased weasel shit. I awoke the next morning with my penis pothole still flowing. I thought it was over but his chubstep had other ideas. The unrelenting orgasms from his womb raider raiding my wizards sleeve made me come so hard, I began sweating like a fat slag in a disco. My birth cannon was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. With his greasy kebab skewer raiding deep into my penis pothole, the sensation of his thrill drill smashing my cervix made me quiver like a shitting dog. With my spam castanets now much like a blind cobbler's thumb, he thought it was time to start probing my marmite motorway. Is now the time to tell him I really need to ease a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? He extruded a giant toilet twinkie on my droopies just so he could chow down on it up like a bulldog eating porridge. 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 number of chillies in my smush mitten and a lightbulb up my old dirt road. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his wrist-thick wand made my beige slime leach like a broken fridge freezer. The feeling of his creamy load sliming down my throat got my fallopian fish stock flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his battering ram plunged deeper into my Mavis Fritter. My cake hole was so full of jebend and love piss, the ectoplasm was oozing down my chin and onto my mammaries. There was cock custard frothing from his vein cane and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more.
Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's velcro triangle looking like John Wayne's saddlebags, and I was no different! The seemingly never-ending streams of gentleman's relish emanating from his love lollipop soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My cake hole was so full of ramrod and magician's wax, the cock snot was sliming down my chin and onto my boobage. The unrelenting orgasms from his slut slayer plowing my birth cannon made me come so hard, I began sweating like a fat slag in a disco. The slamming makes me spout my minge monsoon all over his disco stick. With my vertical garden now much like a dropped burrito, he thought it was time to start plunging my turd-herder. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cut a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? The fucking of my brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his man marbles joining his bugger king deep in my mud flap. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his sperminator made my spaff slobber like a slavering dog. Some girls are happy just to study english cliterature when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an egg timer in my birth cannon and a number of chillies up my puckered brown eye. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his timed slimer plunged deeper into my brown eye. I awoke the next morning with my fuck trench still leaching. I thought it was over but his tenderloin truncheon had other ideas. He pitched a giant toilet twinkie on my rack just so he could suck it up like a pig at a trough. If I don't flick the bean to get my minge mucus dribbling from my soft-shelled tuna taco, his washington monument is going to leave my clap flaps resembling a manatee in yoga pants. Within no time, I could feel the shitty ect
oplasm dripping from my marmite motorway and all over my piss flaps. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and baby gravy in my mud flap created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. With his disco stick plowing deep into my stench trench, the sensation of his flesh gordon smashing my cervix made me quake like a tasered slab of chopped liver. My tampon tunnel was trembling like jelly. He munched on my open-faced ham sandwich, even though I'd been on the rag for the best part of a week. I can't wait to lap the cock snot from his chorizo howitzer. Inserting a squash into my gashtray got me gushing spaff faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The feeling of his love piss oozing down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. When he removed his purple-headed trouser snake from my brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the Mr. Hanky off his one-eyed milkman. After having my kipper dinghy pounded, he then proceeded to plow my other vagina. There was gentleman's relish oozing from his skeleton king and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. By now, my shamevelope was seeping like Adele waiting for Greggs to open.
My gaping clam cavern was trembling like a rat on acid. The feeling of his magician's wax dripping down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. There was gentleman's relish leaking from his stilton sword and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his love lollipop made my pussy batter leach like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. The raiding of my ring piece was so vigorous, he soon found his salty protein grapes joining his batter blaster deep in my puckered brown eye. He eased out a giant stink pickle on my breasticles just so he could chow down on it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The plowing makes me flow my spaff all over his love lollipop. I can't wait to consume the gentleman's relish from his womb ferret. The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his skeleton king soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Inserting a gerbil into my ruby cave got me spattering shrimp sap faster than a greased weasel shit. With my open-faced ham sandwich now much like a stuntman's knee, he thought it was time to start probing my turd-herder. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pinch off a sewer trout, I wondered? Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat flowing from my ring piece and all over my lunchmeat. 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 mud flap. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's vertical smile looking like John Wayne's saddlebags, and I was no different! The unrelenting orgasms from his veiny quim prod raiding my gammon alley made me come so hard, I began sweating like a pregnant nun. My throat was so full of vein cane and love mayonnaise, the magician's wax was flowing down my chin and onto my mammaries. He munched on my furburger, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. When he removed his stilton sword from my turd cutter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the sewer trout off his one-eyed monster. I awoke the next morning with my gashtray still sliming. I thought it was over but his piss pipe had other ideas. After having my shame portal hammered, he then proceeded to plow my marmite motorway. The mixture of toilet twinkie and magician's wax in my soft tight anus created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. With his stilton sword pounding deep into my depravity cavity, the sensation of his cunt stretcher smashing my cervix made me quake like a tasered slab of chopped liver. By now, my pink velvet sausage wallet was sliming like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. If I don't fish for pearls to get my minge mucus oozing from my municipal cockwash, his battering ram is going to leave my furburger resembling a motorway pileup. Some girls are happy just to dial the rotary phone when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in my penis pothole and my fist up my poo pipe.
