by Amy Woods
Within no time, I could feel the shitty magician's wax seeping from my brown eye and all over my piss flaps. Inserting a barbie doll into my cock holster got me ejecting flange custard faster than a greased weasel shit. The seemingly never-ending streams of creamy load emanating from his cunt plunger soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The raiding of my balloon knot was so vigorous, he soon found his trouser conkors joining his kebeb skewer deep in my old dirt road. When he removed his one-eyed monster from my Mavis Fritter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the Mr. Hanky off his giggle stick. The feeling of his penis pudding oozing down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's meaty hangers looking like Pete Burns' lips, and I was no different! With his flesh gordon raiding deep into my cod canyon, the sensation of his tallywacker smashing my cervix made me quake like jelly. He rolled a giant Mr. Hanky on my rack just so he could chow down on it up like a bulldog eating porridge. Some girls are happy just to buff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a lightbulb in my mound of love pudding and my fist up my turd cutter. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and man fat in my vintage golf bag created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. After having my vaginal bacon buffet hammered, he then proceeded to hammer my ring piece. I awoke the next morning with my moose knuckle still haemorrhaging. I thought it was over but his bugger king had other ideas. My cake hole was so full of cheese-crusted cock and creamy load, the cock snot was leaking down my chin and onto my boobage. There was steamin' semen dripping from his Nelson's Column and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. By now, my chlamydia canal was frothing like a broken fridge freezer. If I don't stimulate the genitals through phalangetic motion to get my flange custard dribbling from my fuck gutter, his greasy slimelight is going to leave my panty hamster resembling a darts team's goalkeeper. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his kebeb skewer probed deeper into my Oxo orifice. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his sperminator made my minge mucus drip like a rabid dog. The unrelenting orgasms from his Nelson's Column slamming my enchilada of love made me come so hard, I began sweating like a paedo during a prison riot. My cod crater was trembling like a rat on acid. It was bliss having his ramrod shoved inside me again; stuffing my hatchet wound with a lightbulb just didn't get my sperm socket flooding like it used to. I can't wait to chow down on the steamin' semen from his master of ceremonies. He munched on my open-faced ham sandwich, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. The hammering makes me surge my tuna tunnel tears all over his clunger.
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 depravity cavity and a gerbil up my ring piece. With his chubstep slamming deep into my south mouth, the sensation of his purple-headed trouser snake smashing my cervix made me quake like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. He rolled a giant toilet twinkie on my boobage just so he could consume it up like a pig at a trough. I awoke the next morning with my clunge pool still weeping. I thought it was over but his skin flute had other ideas. My cake hole was so full of bald avenger and man fat, the steamin' semen was trickling down my chin and onto my twin peaks. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's velcro triangle looking like Brian May's plughole, and I was no different! The feeling of his Da Vinci load dripping down my throat got my flange custard flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. He munched on my open-faced ham sandwich, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. The seemingly never-ending streams of man fat emanating from his all-beef thermometer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. When he removed his balony pony from my puckered brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the sewer trout off his purple-headed trouser snake. I can't wait to chow down on the steamin' semen from his love muscle. Inserting a 9-iron into my sperm socket got me flowing clunge gunge faster than a greased weasel shit. The thrusting of my other vagina was so vigorous, he soon found his scroto baggins joining his devil's bagpipe deep in my brown eye. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his purple beaver buster shoved deeper into my brown mile. Within no time, I could feel the shitty creamy load frothing from my rusty bullet hole and all over my flappy meal. It was bliss having his vein cane probed inside me again; stuffing my smush mitten with a 9-iron just didn't get my depravity cavity gushing like it used to. The slamming makes me surge my tuna tunnel tears all over his mutton dagger. My kipper dinghy was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. The unrelenting orgasms from his chorizo howitzer hammering my cod cave made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my clunge gunge dribbling from my slime hole, his cumtree is going to leave my piss flaps resembling Terry Waite's allotment. With my purple cabbage now much like a ripped out fireplace, he thought it was time to start ramming my marmite motorway. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pinch off a toilet twinkie, I wondered? After having my wunder down under raided, he then proceeded to pound my balloon knot. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his womb raider made my pussy batter drain like a slug in a salt mine. The mixture of toilet twinkie and steamin' semen in my black hole created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. There was cock snot dripping from his piss pipe and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more.
He munched on my roast beef platter, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. I awoke the next morning with my clearing in the woods still weeping. I thought it was over but his greasy kebab skewer had other ideas. The fucking of my chocolate starfish was so vigorous, he soon found his man marbles joining his flesh gordon deep in my cocoa channel. My meat purse was trembling like a rat on acid. The slamming makes me flow my minge mucus all over his gristle missile. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his all-beef thermometer made my tuna tunnel tears leach like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. He dropped a giant colon cobra on my cans just so he could devour it up like a bulldog eating porridge. With my fishy flaps now much like a clown's pocket, he thought it was time to start plunging my ring piece. Is now the time to tell him I really need to arc a sewer trout, I wondered? The unrelenting orgasms from his spam javelin raiding my quim made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. Some girls are happy just to play the clitar when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a squash in my pink velvet sausage wallet and my fist up my black hole. The feeling of his cock custard dribbling down my throat got my vertical moisture flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and magician's wax in my ring piece created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. It was bliss having his cunt plunger plunged inside me again; stuffing my slime hole with a lightbulb just didn't get my enchilada of love spouting like it used to. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cumtree shoved deeper into my shit winker. By now, my shame portal was frothing like a broken coffee maker. After having my shamevelope thrusted, he then proceeded to raid my puckered brown eye. My cake hole was so full of bald avenger and gentleman's relish, the magician's wax was leaking down my chin and onto my mammaries. With his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon fucking deep into my hatchet wound, the sensation of his master of ceremonies smashing my cervix made me quake like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock snot oozing from my other vagina and all over my piss flaps. When he removed his greasy kebab skewer from my turd cutter, 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 Ocean's 11 Inches. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's lunchmeat looking like a badly wrapped kebab, and I was no different! If I don't study english cliterature to get my vertical moisture oozing from my soft-shelled tuna taco, his tallywacker is going to leave my fishy flaps resembling a ripped out fireplace. I can't wait to gobble the love mayonnaise from his cunt stretcher. There was gentleman's relish leaching from his blind butler and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. Inserting a lightbulb into my furry cup got me surging minge mucus faster than a greased weasel shit.
The seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his tenderloin truncheon soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. There was man fat leaking from his blind butler and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. When he removed his washington monument from my Oxo orifice, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the colon cobra off his blue-veined custard chucker. He blasted a giant sewer trout on my cans just so he could gobble it up like a hungry hungry hippo. With my fishy flaps now much like a rabid baboon's arse, he thought it was time to start plunging my tradesman's entrance. Is now the time to tell him I really need to extrude a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his batter blaster rammed deeper into my fudge factory. The feeling of his man fat weeping down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. He munched on my hairy goblet, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. The pounding of my balloon knot was so vigorous, he soon found his scroto baggins joining his greasy kebab skewer deep in my shit winker. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and cock snot in my cocoa channel created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. The pounding makes me squirt my shrimp sap all over his veiny quim prod. The unrelenting orgasms from his timed slimer plowing my spunk dungeon made me come so hard, I began sweating like a dyslexic on Countdown. I awoke the next morning with my pink velvet sausage wallet still dribbling. I thought it was over but his cunt plunger had other ideas. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's hairy goblet looking like a manatee in yoga pants, and I was no different! It was bliss having his womb ferret probed inside me again; stuffing my Quimcy, M.E. with a squash just didn't get my vaginal bacon buffet flowing like it used to. My throat was so full of slut slayer and steamin' semen, the cock snot was dripping down my chin and onto my cans. My municipal cockwash was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. Within no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load flowing from my Mavis Fritter and all over my vertical smile. With his bald-headed yogurt slinger raiding deep into my fuck trench, the sensation of his batter blaster smashing my cervix made me quiver like jelly. After having my cod crater pounded, he then proceeded to pound my puckered brown eye. If I don't study english cliterature to get my shrimp sap haemorrhaging from my cod canyon, his womb ferret is going to leave my clap flaps resembling John Wayne's saddlebags. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my stench trench got me spouting tuna tunnel tears faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. I can't wait to gobble the cock custard from his purple-headed trouser snake. By now, my clam-flavoured pothole was weeping like a rabid dog. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his vein cane made my clunge gunge trickle like a slavering dog.
The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his slut slayer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With my flappy meal now much like a rabid baboon's arse, he thought it was time to start probing my vintage golf bag. Is now the time to tell him I really need to arc a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? By now, my wizards sleeve was dribbling like a broken fridge freezer. When he removed his giggle stick from my fart valve, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the sewer trout off his one-eyed milkman. I awoke the next morning with my fuck gutter still oozing. I thought it was over but his skin flute had other ideas. I can't wait to gobble the cock snot from his long-dong silver. The mixture of stink pickle and baby gravy in my brown eye created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. My mouth was so full of master of ceremonies and penis pudding, the ectoplasm was leaching down my chin and onto my chest puppies. Inserting an egg timer into my fuck gutter got me pouring minge monsoon faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's clap flaps looking like a badly wrapped kebab, and I was no different! The unrelenting orgasms from his mutton dagger pounding my wunder down under made me come so hard, I began sweating like a pregnant nun. The raiding of my fudge factory was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his skeleton king deep in my turd cutter. It was bliss having his skin flute rammed inside me again; stuffing my salmon slit with an antique doorknob just didn't get my clunge pool gushing like it used to. Some girls are happy just to buff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having my fist in my vibrator crater and my fist up my tradesman's entrance. After having my clearing in the woods raided, he then proceeded to hammer my soft tight anus. My south mouth was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. The hammering makes me spout my minge monsoon all over his meaty member. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock custard trickling from my marmite motorway and all over my beef curtains. There was magician's wax haemorrhaging from his balony pony and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. If I don't flick the bean to get my sex wee foaming from my shame portal, his giggle stick is going to leave my open-faced ham sandwich resembling a motorway pileup. He munched on my meaty hangers, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. The feeling of his love piss dribbling down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. He cut a giant butt nugget on my droopies just so he could chow down on it up like a pig at a trough. With his Nelson's Column hammering deep into my vibrator crater, the sensation of his pink tractor beam smashing my cervix made me quake like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cunt plunger slid deeper into my turd cutter.
Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his sperminator slid deeper into my shit winker. If I don't stimulate the genitals through phalangetic motion to get my pussy batter draining from my sperm socket, his spam dagger is going to leave my open-faced ham sandwich resembling a horse's collar. The unrelenting orgasms from his flesh gordon thrusting my cock holster made me come so hard, I began sweating like a paedo during a prison riot. My cake hole was so full of Ocean's 11 Inches and penis pudding, the cock custard was haemorrhaging down my chin and onto my boobage. The thrusting of my brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his kids on a swing joining his vein cane deep in my Oxo orifice. He munched on my vertical smile, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. By now, my shame portal was dripping like a hungry pig at a trough. It was bliss having his timed slimer stuffed inside me again; stuffing my front bum with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my clam-flavoured pothole squirting like it used to. I awoke the next morning with my vaginal bacon buffet still slobbering. I thought it was over but his cunt plunger had other ideas. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's spam castanets looking like a hippo's yawn, and I was no different! Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his cunt stretcher made my beige slime ooze like a slug in a salt mine. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his ramrod soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I can't wait to suck the penis pudding from his skeleton king. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and baby gravy in my turd cutter created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. He arced a giant Mr. Hanky on my top bollocks just so he could gobble it up like a pig at a trough. My meat purse was trembling like a rat on acid. The feeling of his ectoplasm dripping down my thr
oat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. With my clap flaps now much like Terry Waite's allotment, he thought it was time to start ramming my black hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pitch a butt nugget, I wondered? 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 calamari cockring and a lightbulb up my puckered brown eye. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock custard leaching from my ring piece and all over my vertical smile. There was cock snot dribbling from his huge penis and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. The fucking makes me splurge my vertical moisture all over his wensleydale wand. With his spam javelin pounding deep into my south mouth, the sensation of his sperminator smashing my cervix made me quiver like a rat on acid. After having my vibration station slammed, he then proceeded to raid my balloon knot. When he removed his balony pony from my marmite motorway, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the footlong fudge bullet off his bald-headed yogurt slinger.
Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cumtree plunged deeper into my brown mile. The unrelenting orgasms from his stilton sword fucking my ground zero grotto made me come so hard, I began sweating like a white mouse in a tampon factory. The fucking makes me spit my fallopian fish stock all over his skin flute. My clam-flavoured pothole was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's purple cabbage looking like a rabid baboon's arse, and I was no different! He munched on my roast beef platter, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. He crowned a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my fiery biscuits just so he could devour it up like a hungry hungry hippo. The seemingly never-ending streams of love piss emanating from his pink tractor beam soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I awoke the next morning with my ladytown still flowing. I thought it was over but his jebend had other ideas. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his vein cane made my pussy batter slime like a jizz waterfall. Inserting a number of chillies into my wizards sleeve got me ejecting tuna tunnel tears faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. When he removed his bald avenger from my black hole, 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 throbbing quim dagger. Some girls are happy just to get a stinky pinky when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a number of chillies in my ruby cave and a 9-iron up my puckered brown eye. If I don't buff the muff to get my sex wee frothing from my cod canyon, his mutton dagger is going to leave my furburger resembling a bulldog in a windtunnel. My mouth was so full of bald avenger and cock snot, the steamin' semen was leaking down my chin and onto my droopies. With my hairy goblet now much like a darts team's goalkeeper, he thought it was time to start sliding my vintage golf bag. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cut a stink pickle, I wondered? There was baby gravy leaking from his spam dagger and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. It was bliss having his clunger slid inside me again; stuffing my soft-shelled tuna taco with a number of chillies just didn't get my cum dumpster ejecting like it used to. I can't wait to suck the steamin' semen from his chorizo howitzer. The feeling of his gentleman's relish dripping down my throat got my tuna tunnel tears flowing quicker than snot off a whip. With his timed slimer plowing deep into my hatchet wound, the sensation of his jade rod smashing my cervix made me quiver like a shitting dog. By now, my furry cup was draining like a leaky tap. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen leaking from my Mavis Fritter and all over my vertical smile. The slamming of my ring piece was so vigorous, he soon found his chin pounders joining his skin flute deep in my tradesman's entrance. After having my cock holster pounded, he then proceeded to raid my puckered brown eye.
