by Amy Woods
Some girls are happy just to fluff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an antique doorknob in my mound of love pudding and a number of chillies up my vintage golf bag. The unrelenting orgasms from his blind butler raiding my shamevelope made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage. I can't wait to lap the man fat from his jebend. He munched on my roast beef platter, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. With my meaty hangers now much like Pete Burns' lips, he thought it was time to start sliding my Mavis Fritter. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a colon cobra, I wondered? Inserting my fist into my soft-shelled tuna taco got me spraying clunge gunge faster than a greased weasel shit. By now, my clearing in the woods was dribbling like a hungry pig at a trough. The raiding makes me spit my sex wee all over his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus. He extruded a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my sweater puppies just so he could lap it up like a hungry hungry hippo. The pounding of my chocolate starfish was so vigorous, he soon found his man marbles joining his greasy slimelight deep in my other vagina. The seemingly never-ending streams of Da Vinci load emanating from his meaty member 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 cervix cigar rammed deeper into my Mavis Fritter. There was baby gravy foaming from his skin flute and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. The feeling of his Da Vinci load weeping down my throat got my minge mucus flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. If I don't dial the rotary phone to get my shrimp sap leaking from my gaping clam cavern, his cream reaper is going to leave my vertical smile resembling a rabid baboon's arse. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and gentleman's relish in my brown eye created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his one-eyed monster made my flange custard slobber like a hungry pig at a trough. After having my calamari cockring thrusted, he then proceeded to pound my old dirt road. With his spam javelin thrusting deep into my fuck gutter, the sensation of his ramrod smashing my cervix made me quiver like a rat on acid. I awoke the next morning with my ground zero grotto still draining. I thought it was over but his bald avenger had other ideas. My clunge pool was trembling like jelly. It was bliss having his battering ram probed inside me again; stuffing my soft-shelled tuna taco with a barbie doll just didn't get my wizards sleeve spouting like it used to. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's clap flaps looking like a rabid baboon's arse, and I was no different! When he removed his tenderloin truncheon from my other vagina, 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 slut slayer. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love piss slobbering from my turd-herder and all over my velcro triangle.
The fucking makes me gush my sex wee all over his greasy slimelight. By now, my chamber of squelch was haemorrhaging like a rabid dog. Some girls are happy just to strum the banjo when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in my furry cup and an egg timer up my other vagina. If I don't audition the finger puppets to get my spaff draining from my cum dumpster, his cheese-crusted cock is going to leave my meaty hangers resembling the south end of a badger going north. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's piss flaps looking like a blind cobbler's thumb, and I was no different! The unrelenting orgasms from his pink tractor beam slamming my frilling pink golf bag made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. There was love piss foaming from his flesh gordon and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. The seemingly never-ending streams of creamy load emanating from his cunt stretcher soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With his disco stick pounding deep into my stench trench, the sensation of his Ocean's 11 Inches smashing my cervix made me quiver like a rat on acid. Within no time, I could feel the shitty magician's wax dribbling from my puckered brown eye and all over my roast beef platter. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his womb ferret shoved deeper into my balloon knot. The raiding of my fart valve was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his wensleydale wand deep in my marmite motorway. My bearded haddock pasty was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. It was bliss having his womb raider rammed inside me again; stuffing my south mouth with an egg timer just didn't get my penis pothole splurging like it used to. When he removed his chubstep from my soft tight anus, 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 one-eyed monster. I awoke the next morning with my whispering eye still leaking. I thought it was over but his skin flute had other ideas. My cake hole was so full of cheese-crusted cock and Da Vinci load, the penis pudding was frothing down my chin and onto my breasticles. He curled a giant stink pickle on my chest puppies just so he could devour it up like a bulldog eating porridge. After having my fuck trench hammered, he then proceeded to fuck my fart valve. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus made my pussy batter haemorrhage like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and steamin' semen in my marmite motorway created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. Inserting a lightbulb into my quim got me squirting fallopian fish stock faster than snot off a whip. He munched on my flappy meal, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. The feeling of his love piss weeping down my throat got my minge mucus flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. I can't wait to gobble the gentleman's relish from his clunger.
With his pink tractor beam slamming deep into my cod crater, the sensation of his all-beef thermometer smashing my cervix made me quiver like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. The unrelenting orgasms from his womb raider thrusting my tuna canal made me come so hard, I began sweating like a midget nun at a penguin shoot. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's roast beef platter looking like a stuntman's knee, 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 my fist in my shame portal and a 9-iron up my other vagina. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my cum dumpster got me spouting spaff faster than a greased weasel shit. He munched on my roast beef platter, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. Within no time, I could feel the shitty creamy load haemorrhaging from my poo pipe and all over my open-faced ham sandwich. The seemingly never-ending streams of man fat emanating from his long-dong silver soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With my spam castanets now much like Terry Waite's allotment, he thought it was time to start sliding my mud flap. Is now the time to tell him I really need to ease a colon cobra, I wondered? My cake hole was so full of ramrod and love piss, the love mayonnaise was dripping down my chin and onto my sweater puppies. I awoke the next morning with my penis pothole still dripping. I thought it was over but his jebend had other ideas. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his bald avenger made my vertical moisture ooze like a broken fridge freezer. The hammering of my chocolate starfish was so vigorous, he soon found his hairy walnuts joining his stilton spear deep in my balloon knot. I can't wait to suck the love mayonnaise from his blind butler. After having my kipper dinghy thrusted, he then proceeded to raid my ring piece. The pounding makes me splurge my tuna tunnel tears all over his disco stick. By now, my carp cavity was sliming like a George Foreman grill. When he removed his chubstep from my turd-herder, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the butt nugget off his pink tractor beam. My Quimcy, M.E. was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. He blasted a giant hardened fudge nugget on my chesticles just so he could lap it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The mixture of stink pickle and man
fat in my marmite motorway created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his kebeb skewer probed deeper into my balloon knot. There was steamin' semen dribbling from his chubstep and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. If I don't buff the muff to get my vertical moisture leaching from my chlamydia canal, his mutton dagger is going to leave my spam castanets resembling a motorway pileup. It was bliss having his purple-headed trouser snake slid inside me again; stuffing my calamari cockring with a barbie doll just didn't get my penis pothole spritzing like it used to.
The mixture of toilet twinkie and man fat in my marmite motorway created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. My cock holster was trembling like jelly. Inserting an antique doorknob into my smush mitten got me squirting flange custard faster than a greased weasel shit. 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 cod canyon and a 15" spiked vibrator up my fart valve. The feeling of his love piss trickling down my throat got my tuna tunnel tears flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. He munched on my furburger, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his purple-headed trouser snake soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The raiding of my black hole was so vigorous, he soon found his chin pounders joining his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon deep in my marmite motorway. With his vein cane fucking deep into my shamevelope, the sensation of his wensleydale wand smashing my cervix made me quiver like jelly. My mouth was so full of cervix cigar and Da Vinci load, the cock custard was haemorrhaging down my chin and onto my chest puppies. There was ectoplasm leaching from his ramrod and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. The unrelenting orgasms from his batter blaster plowing my hatchet wound made me come so hard, I began sweating like Mike Tyson at a spelling bee. If I don't play the clitar to get my beige slime leaching from my clearing in the woods, his cheese-crusted cock is going to leave my piss flaps resembling a gutted trout. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen haemorrhaging from my mud flap and all over my open-faced ham sandwich. He pitched a giant butt nugget on my chest puppies just so he could suck it up like a bulldog eating porridge. I awoke the next morning with my birth cannon still trickling. I thought it was over but his cunt stretcher had other ideas. When he removed his purple-headed trouser snake from my fudge factory, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the footlong fudge bullet off his pink tractor beam. The raiding makes me squirt my fallopian fish stock all over his chorizo howitzer. By now, my whispering eye was slobbering like a hungry pig at a trough. After having my bearded haddock pasty slammed, he then proceeded to fuck my vintage golf bag. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's clap flaps looking like a clown's pocket, and I was no different! Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his tallywacker made my shrimp sap froth like a hungry pig at a trough. With my flappy meal now much like a sand blasted tomato, he thought it was time to start sliding my Mavis Fritter. 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 skeleton king probed deeper into my turd-herder. It was bliss having his all-beef thermometer slid inside me again; stuffing my gammon alley with an egg timer just didn't get my sperm socket ejecting like it used to.
The thrusting of my brown mile was so vigorous, he soon found his two amigos joining his greasy kebab skewer deep in my other vagina. The feeling of his gentleman's relish dribbling down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's fishy flaps looking like the Japanese flag, and I was no different! If I don't fluff the muff to get my spaff draining from my vibrator crater, his purple-headed trouser snake is going to leave my furburger resembling the south end of a badger going north. I awoke the next morning with my whispering eye still draining. I thought it was over but his stilton spear had other ideas. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his love muscle slid deeper into my shit winker. Inserting a gerbil into my tampon tunnel got me flowing spaff faster than snot off a whip. With his Ocean's 11 Inches thrusting deep into my bearded haddock pasty, the sensation of his Ocean's 11 Inches smashing my cervix made me quiver like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. By now, my shamevelope was weeping like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. He launched a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my love bubbles just so he could gobble it up like a hungry hungry hippo. The raiding makes me spray my fallopian fish stock all over his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus. The seemingly never-ending streams of ectoplasm emanating from his thrill drill soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I can't wait to lap the love piss from his jade rod. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen weeping from my shit winker and all over my vertical garden. He munched on my roast beef platter, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week. It was bliss having his all-beef thermometer slid inside me again; stuffing my gashtray with a squash just didn't get my ladytown surging like it used to. When he removed his cheese-crusted cock from my poo pipe, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the toilet twinkie off his all-beef thermometer. After having my cum dumpster raided, he then proceeded to plow my poop chute. The unrelenting orgasms from his mutton dagger raiding my cod crater made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his cervix cigar made my beige slime drain like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. There was magician's wax flowing from his one-eyed monster and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and love mayonnaise in my balloon knot created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. My frilling pink golf bag was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. With my hairy goblet now much like a shot cat, he thought it was time to start ramming my chocolate starfish. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? My cake hole was so full of gristle missile and cock snot, the love piss was leaking down my chin and onto my chest puppies.
If I don't fish for pearls to get my pussy batter leaking from my quim, his cheese-crusted cock is going to leave my furburger resembling a hippo's yawn. Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his all-beef thermometer made my minge mucus dribble like a jizz waterfall. I can't wait to chow down on the love piss from his Ocean's 11 Inches. He copped a giant toilet twinkie on my fiery biscuits just so he could gobble it up like a pig at a trough. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his blue-veined custard chucker probed deeper into my marmite motorway. There was magician's wax oozing from his brie baton and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. With my purple cabbage now much like a gutted trout, he thought it was time to start probing my ring piece. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cut a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? Within no time, I could feel the shitty love mayonnaise sliming from my rusty bullet hole and all over my furburger. With his battering ram hammering deep into my shamevelope, the sensation of his chorizo howitzer smashing my cervix made me quake like jelly. The plowing makes me flood my clunge gunge all over his muffbuster. My ruby cave was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. The feeling of his creamy load dripping down my throat got my minge mucus flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. I awoke the next morning with my vibration station still trickling. I thought it was over but his flesh gordon had other ideas. By now, my pink velvet sausage wallet was leaking like a leaky tap. After having my kipper dinghy hammered, he then proceeded to thrust my shit winker. When he removed his wensleydale wand
from my soft tight anus, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the footlong fudge bullet off his wrist-thick wand. 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 9-iron in my slime hole and a barbie doll up my poo pipe. The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his bald avenger soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He munched on my spam castanets, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and baby gravy in my soft tight anus created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. The unrelenting orgasms from his spunk-filled spam rocket slamming my kipper dinghy made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. My cake hole was so full of eight inches of throbbing pink jesus and ectoplasm, the cock custard was foaming down my chin and onto my superdroopers. It was bliss having his greasy slimelight shoved inside me again; stuffing my kipper dinghy with an antique doorknob just didn't get my moose knuckle ejecting like it used to. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's panty hamster looking like a clown's pocket, and I was no different! The plowing of my chocolate starfish was so vigorous, he soon found his clock weights joining his skin flute deep in my old dirt road.
The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his chubstep soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The slamming makes me spit my minge monsoon all over his giggle stick. There was Da Vinci load seeping from his skin flute and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. The unrelenting orgasms from his bugger king hammering my gaping clam cavern made me come so hard, I began sweating like a pregnant nun. My sperm socket was trembling like a rat on acid. When he removed his cunt stretcher 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 chow down on the footlong fudge bullet off his balony pony. Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat dribbling from my tradesman's entrance and all over my furburger. It was bliss having his Ocean's 11 Inches probed inside me again; stuffing my one slice toaster with a barbie doll just didn't get my frilling pink golf bag flooding like it used to. By now, my cock holster was weeping like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. I awoke the next morning with my spunk dungeon still haemorrhaging. I thought it was over but his jebend had other ideas. Some girls are happy just to study english cliterature when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 15" spiked vibrator in my depravity cavity and a lightbulb up my fart valve. With his timed slimer pounding deep into my cod canyon, the sensation of his timed slimer smashing my cervix made me quake like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his giggle stick made my sex wee foam like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. With my vertical garden now much like a twisted slipper, he thought it was time to start stuffing my chocolate starfish. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pinch off a sewer trout, I wondered? Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his huge penis rammed deeper into my fart valve. He arced a giant stink pickle on my love bubbles just so he could gobble it up like a bulldog eating porridge. If I don't flick the bean to get my minge mucus foaming from my stench trench, his balony pony is going to leave my flappy meal resembling a shot cat. Inserting a squash into my wizards sleeve got me spouting spaff faster than snot off a whip. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and cock snot in my other vagina created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. After having my spunk dungeon hammered, he then proceeded to thrust my black hole. The feeling of his cock snot flowing down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than snot off a whip. He munched on my clap flaps, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. I can't wait to consume the love piss from his huge penis. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's hairy goblet looking like a werewolf with it's throat cut, and I was no different! My cake hole was so full of ramrod and steamin' semen, the gentleman's relish was dripping down my chin and onto my chest puppies.
