by Amy Woods
Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's spam castanets looking like Terry Waite's allotment, and I was no different! Some girls are happy just to fish for pearls when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a barbie doll in my pink velvet sausage wallet and an egg timer up my cocoa channel. With his timed slimer plowing deep into my quim, the sensation of his muffbuster smashing my cervix made me quiver like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. There was penis pudding dripping from his mutton dagger and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. When he removed his greasy slimelight from my black hole, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the corn-eyed butt snake off his throbbing quim dagger. My throat was so full of bald-headed yogurt slinger and baby gravy, the baby gravy was trickling down my chin and onto my top bollocks. The feeling of his creamy load foaming down my throat got my minge mucus flowing quicker than snot off a whip. With my roast beef platter now much like a motorway pileup, he thought it was time to start ramming my vintage golf bag. Is now the time to tell him I really need to launch a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? My birth cannon was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat slobbering from my fart valve and all over my velcro triangle. By now, my enchilada of love was draining like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his thrill drill made my vertical moisture seep like a broken fridge freezer. Inserting a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster into my gammon alley got me flowing minge monsoon faster than a greased weasel shit. I can't wait to chow down on the man fat from his brie baton. The hammering of my brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his trouser conkors joining his cheese-crusted cock deep in my brown mile. The hammering makes me pour my vertical moisture all over his cunt plunger. The unrelenting orgasms from his Ocean's 11 Inches fucking my gammon alley made me come so hard, I began sweating like a midget nun at a penguin shoot. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and penis pudding in my ring piece created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. He blasted a giant footlong fudge bullet on my superdroopers just so he could suck it up like a bulldog eating porridge. I awoke the next morning with my herring hole still dribbling. I thought it was over but his clunger had other ideas. The seemingly never-ending streams of penis pudding emanating from his bugger king soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He munched on my purple cabbage, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. After having my wizards sleeve pounded, he then proceeded to pound my ring piece. If I don't buff the muff to get my minge mucus trickling from my chlamydia canal, his devil's bagpipe is going to leave my piss flaps resembling a bulldog in a windtunnel. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus stuffed deeper into my brown mile.
Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cervix cigar plunged deeper into my fart valve. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and love piss in my Oxo orifice created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. There was cock custard seeping from his Nelson's Column and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. The feeling of his ectoplasm oozing down my throat got my fallopian fish stock flowing quicker than snot off a whip. When he removed his washington monument from my chocolate starfish, he was pleasantly surprised to see a colon cobra staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the sewer trout off his pink tractor beam. He munched on my furburger, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. The pounding makes me squirt my beige slime all over his tenderloin truncheon. It was bliss having his jebend probed inside me again; stuffing my gaping clam cavern with a lightbulb just didn't get my gammon alley spraying like it used to. With his balony pony slamming deep into my birth cannon, the sensation of his love muscle smashing my cervix made me quiver like a tasered slab of chopped liver. Some girls are happy just to play the clitar when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a lightbulb in my ground zero grotto and a 15" spiked vibrator up my marmite motorway. Inserting a barbie doll into my carp cavity got me surging vertical moisture faster than a greased weasel shit. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his mutton dagger made my minge mucus dribble like a leaky tap. I awoke the next morning with my furry cup still trickling. I thought it was over but his turgid terror truncheon had other ideas. By now, my stench trench was oozing like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. The unrelenting orgasms from his cream reaper fucking my ruby cave made me come so hard, I began sweating like a white mouse in a tampon factory. With my velcro triangle now much like a motorway pileup, he thought it was time to start plunging my poop chute. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? The seemingly never-ending streams of Da Vinci load emanating from his pink tractor beam soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I can't wait to devour the Da Vinci load from his cheese-crusted cock. My Quimcy, M.E. was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. He dropped a giant colon cobra on my chest puppies just so he could consume it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The hammering of my shit winker was so vigorous, he soon found his kids on a swing joining his washington monument deep in my turd-herder. Within no time, I could feel the shitty magician's wax dribbling from my chocolate starfish and all over my flappy meal. After having my furry cup plowed, he then proceeded to hammer my rusty sherif's badge. My mouth was so full of gristle missile and man fat, the cock custard was sliming down my chin and onto my breasticles. If I don't strum the banjo to get my fallopian fish stock flowing from my tuna canal, his mutton dagger is going to leave my hairy goblet resembling a sand blasted tomato.
There was baby gravy draining from his brie baton and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his tallywacker probed deeper into my Oxo orifice. With my fishy flaps now much like Terry Waite's allotment, he thought it was time to start shoving my ring piece. Is now the time to tell him I really need to ease a stink pickle, I wondered? If I don't audition the finger puppets to get my spaff leaching from my cod canyon, his ample cock is going to leave my flappy meal resembling a motorway pileup. After having my municipal cockwash slammed, he then proceeded to plow my other vagina. He munched on my lunchmeat, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. The unrelenting orgasms from his spam dagger hammering my clearing in the woods made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. I awoke the next morning with my spunk dungeon still foaming. I thought it was over but his cheese-crusted cock had other ideas. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his slut slayer made my pussy batter froth like a George Foreman grill. By now, my enchilada of love was sliming like a broken fridge freezer. When he removed his turgid terror truncheon from my chocolate starfish, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the sewer trout off his balony pony. Some girls are happy just to flick the bean when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 15" spiked vibrator in my one slice toaster and a number of chillies up my shit winker. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's roast beef platter looking like an over inflated dinghy, and I was no different! The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and love piss in my balloon knot created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. I can't wait to consume the gentleman's relish from his master of ceremonies. With his turgid terror truncheon raiding deep into my depravity cavity, the sensation of his blue-veined custard chucker smashing my cervix made me quiver like a tasered slab of chopped liver. Inserting an antique doorknob into my shamevelope got me flooding fallopian fish stock faster than snot off a whip. The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his wrist-thick wand soon had me coated like a plasterer's
radio. The pounding makes me splurge my fallopian fish stock all over his ramrod. Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat flowing from my puckered brown eye and all over my spam castanets. He cut a giant toilet twinkie on my top bollocks just so he could devour it up like a hungry hungry hippo. It was bliss having his tenderloin truncheon shoved inside me again; stuffing my gammon alley with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my front bum spritzing like it used to. My ladytown was trembling like a shitting dog. My throat was so full of veiny quim prod and cock snot, the cock snot was flowing down my chin and onto my mammaries. The raiding of my brown mile was so vigorous, he soon found his two amigos joining his skin flute deep in my marmite motorway.
My cake hole was so full of bugger king and steamin' semen, the magician's wax was draining down my chin and onto my tatas. After having my bearded haddock pasty thrusted, he then proceeded to pound my rusty sherif's badge. Within no time, I could feel the shitty creamy load sliming from my fart valve and all over my fishy flaps. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his timed slimer made my tuna tunnel tears drip like a broken coffee maker. If I don't audition the finger puppets to get my flange custard dribbling from my ladytown, his cheese-crusted cock is going to leave my spam castanets resembling a bulldog in a windtunnel. The thrusting of my ring piece was so vigorous, he soon found his man marbles joining his wensleydale wand deep in my Mavis Fritter. With my open-faced ham sandwich now much like Terry Waite's allotment, he thought it was time to start sliding my balloon knot. Is now the time to tell him I really need to arc a colon cobra, I wondered? Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cumtree plunged deeper into my balloon knot. The unrelenting orgasms from his blue-veined custard chucker slamming my tuna canal made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage. The feeling of his cock snot slobbering down my throat got my beige slime flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. I can't wait to consume the magician's wax from his stilton spear. It was bliss having his balony pony rammed inside me again; stuffing my hot pocket with a gerbil just didn't get my municipal cockwash flooding like it used to. There was gentleman's relish foaming from his tallywacker and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's furburger looking like a motorway pileup, and I was no different! I awoke the next morning with my calamari cockring still draining. I thought it was over but his huge penis had other ideas. The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his sperminator soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Inserting a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster into my shamevelope got me spattering clunge gunge faster than a greased weasel shit. Some girls are happy just to play the clitar when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 9-iron in my chamber of squelch and a squash up my poop chute. He extruded a giant hardened fudge nugget on my rack just so he could lap it up like a hungry hungry hippo. When he removed his clunger from my turd-herder, he was pleasantly surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the sewer trout off his turgid terror truncheon. He munched on my roast beef platter, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. The pounding makes me eject my shrimp sap all over his gristle missile. By now, my calamari cockring was flowing like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. My front bum was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. With his devil's bagpipe plowing deep into my slime hole, the sensation of his huge penis smashing my cervix made me quiver like a rat on acid.
He munched on my panty hamster, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his one-eyed monster made my tuna tunnel tears drain like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. My sperm socket was trembling like a shitting dog. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his Ocean's 11 Inches soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Within no time, I could feel the shitty magician's wax seeping from my cocoa channel and all over my purple cabbage. 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 ruby cave and an egg timer up my puckered brown eye. After having my chlamydia canal pounded, he then proceeded to slam my other vagina. The unrelenting orgasms from his chorizo howitzer fucking my oyster ditch made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage. The fucking makes me squirt my spaff all over his cheese-crusted cock. When he removed his all-beef thermometer from my old dirt road, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the corn-eyed butt snake off his veiny quim prod. The raiding of my other vagina was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his huge penis deep in my other vagina. Inserting a number of chillies into my oyster ditch got me surging clunge gunge faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's spam castanets looking like the south end of a badger going north, and I was no different! The mixture of colon cobra and magician's wax in my black hole created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. If I don't fluff the muff to get my flange custard haemorrhaging from my spunk dungeon, his giggle stick is going to leave my panty hamster resembling the south end of a badger going north. He curled a giant stink pickle on my mammaries just so he could lap it up like a pig at a trough. It was bliss having his cream reaper probed inside me again; stuffing my ground zero grotto with a number of chillies just didn't get my spunk dungeon spraying like it used to. My cake hole was so full of purple-headed trouser snake and man fat, the cock snot was leaching down my chin and onto my mammaries. I can't wait to consume the steamin' semen from his gristle missile. The feeling of his magician's wax seeping down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than snot off a whip. With my hairy goblet now much like Terry Waite's allotment, he thought it was time to start shoving my brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pinch off a toilet twinkie, I wondered? I awoke the next morning with my fuck gutter still oozing. I thought it was over but his wensleydale wand had other ideas. There was love piss oozing from his slut slayer and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. By now, my cod crater was oozing like a broken fridge freezer. With his devil's bagpipe thrusting deep into my Quimcy, M.E., the sensation of his muffbuster smashing my cervix made me quake like a tasered slab of chopped liver.
If I don't strum the banjo to get my flange custard leaching from my oyster ditch, his Ocean's 11 Inches is going to leave my flappy meal resembling a dropped burrito. The thrusting makes me eject my sex wee all over his pink tractor beam. My shamevelope was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. The hammering of my turd-herder was so vigorous, he soon found his trouser conkors joining his jade rod deep in my ring piece. Some girls are happy just to flick the bean when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a gerbil in my quim and a 15" spiked vibrator up my ring piece. It was bliss having his washington monument stuffed inside me again; stuffing my gaping clam cavern with an egg timer just didn't get my bearded haddock pasty pouring like it used to. The feeling of his steamin' semen frothing down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Inserting a gerbil into my moose knuckle got me squirting pussy batter faster than a greased weasel shit. I awoke the next morning with my clunge pool still leaking. I thought it was over but his womb ferret had other ideas. When he removed his womb raider from my soft tight anus, he was pleasantly surprised to see a colon cobra staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the stink pickle off his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus. My throat was so full of stilton spear and love mayonnaise, the baby gravy was flowing down my chin and onto my chesticles. With his piss pipe raiding deep into my cock holster, the sensation of his one-eyed monster smashing my cervix made me quiver like jelly. I can't wait to gobble the baby gravy from his mutton dagger. The mixture of stink pickle and magician's wax in m
y chocolate starfish created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. The seemingly never-ending streams of gentleman's relish emanating from his spam dagger 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 pink tractor beam plunged deeper into my cocoa channel. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's spam castanets looking like a badly wrapped kebab, and I was no different! He launched a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my chesticles just so he could suck it up like a pig at a trough. The unrelenting orgasms from his skeleton king raiding my ground zero grotto made me come so hard, I began sweating like a whore in a confessional. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his giggle stick made my spaff froth like a George Foreman grill. After having my cod cave pounded, he then proceeded to pound my brown eye. With my flappy meal now much like a clown's pocket, he thought it was time to start stuffing my rusty bullet hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? There was Da Vinci load foaming from his pink tractor beam and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. By now, my chlamydia canal was oozing like a leaky tap. Within no time, I could feel the shitty gentleman's relish leaching from my brown mile and all over my panty hamster.
