by Amy Woods
The pounding of my brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his thrill drill deep in my turd cutter. With my roast beef platter now much like a rabid baboon's arse, he thought it was time to start shoving my fart valve. Is now the time to tell him I really need to roll a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? After having my tampon tunnel fucked, he then proceeded to slam my turd cutter. The seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from his chubstep soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Hours of pounding 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 love muscle slamming my frilling pink golf bag made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. It was bliss having his jade rod slid inside me again; stuffing my enchilada of love with a 9-iron just didn't get my mound of love pudding ejecting like it used to. I can't wait to devour the love mayonnaise from his washington monument. The hammering makes me flood my sex wee all over his bald avenger. I awoke the next morning with my ground zero grotto still flowing. I thought it was over but his wensleydale wand had other ideas. He eased out a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my mosquito bites just so he could devour it up like a pig at a trough. The mixture of colon cobra and gentleman's relish in my mud flap created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. Inserting my fist into my herring hole got me spraying beige slime faster than snot off a whip. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen foaming from my soft tight anus and all over my open-faced ham sandwich. If I don't dial the rotary phone to get my spaff slobbering from my cod canyon, his clunger is going to leave my beef curtains resembling a dropped burrito. My tuna canal was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. There was baby gravy dripping from his disco stick and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. Some girls are happy just to strum the banjo when they're alone, but I can't get off without having my fist in my Quimcy, M.E. and a squash up my marmite motorway. When he removed his slut slayer from my mud flap, 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 bugger king. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his turgid terror truncheon made my fallopian fish stock leach like a jizz waterfall. With his thrill drill pounding deep into my cod canyon, the sensation of his veiny quim prod smashing my cervix made me quiver like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. The feeling of his man fat frothing down my throat got my beige slime flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. He munched on my hairy goblet, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. My mouth was so full of spunk-filled spam rocket and love mayonnaise, the love mayonnaise was weeping down my chin and onto my superdroopers. By now, my smush mitten was sliming like a broken coffee maker.
The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and gentleman's relish in my poo pipe created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. I can't wait to lap the man fat from his cumtree. If I don't strum the banjo to get my minge monsoon foaming from my depravity cavity, his long-dong silver is going to leave my lunchmeat resembling a bulldog in a windtunnel. The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his blue-veined custard chucker soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Some girls are happy just to flick the bean when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an egg timer in my vaginal bacon buffet and an antique doorknob up my fudge factory. The slamming of my mud flap was so vigorous, he soon found his salty protein grapes joining his vein cane deep in my brown eye. The hammering makes me spout my sex wee all over his pink tractor beam. My smush mitten was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. My throat was so full of womb ferret and love piss, the cock snot was sliming down my chin and onto my cans. He munched on my beef curtains, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. With my velcro triangle now much like an over inflated dinghy, he thought it was time to start sliding my fudge factory. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pinch off a colon cobra, I wondered? He pinched off a giant sewer trout on my tatas 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 slid deeper into my rusty bullet hole. It was bliss having his Nelson's Column slid inside me again; stuffing my cock holster with a 9-iron just didn't get my slime hole spraying like it used to. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his mutton dagger made my sex wee leak like a George Foreman grill. By now, my slime hole was dribbling like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. When he removed his thrill drill from my puckered brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see a colon cobra staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the corn-eyed butt snake off his long-dong silver. After having my bearded haddock pasty plowed, he then proceeded to fuck my soft tight anus. There was gentleman's relish trickling from his Nelson's Column and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. Within no time, I could feel the shitty creamy load draining from my brown eye and all over my hairy goblet. The feeling of his love piss trickling down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. With his blind butler fucking deep into my shame portal, the sensation of his wrist-thick wand smashing my cervix made me quake like jelly. I awoke the next morning with my gammon alley still dripping. I thought it was over but his cunt stretcher had other ideas. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's meaty hangers looking like a ripped out fireplace, and I was no different! The unrelenting orgasms from his cream reaper slamming my cock holster made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop.
Some girls are happy just to study english cliterature when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a squash in my cod canyon and a 9-iron up my shit winker. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's velcro triangle looking like a clown's pocket, and I was no different! The seemingly never-ending streams of love piss emanating from his cumtree soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The hammering of my shit winker was so vigorous, he soon found his scroto baggins joining his jebend deep in my shit winker. It was bliss having his cream reaper rammed inside me again; stuffing my oyster ditch with a number of chillies just didn't get my moose knuckle flooding like it used to. I can't wait to gobble the love piss from his spam dagger. The hammering makes me gush my minge monsoon all over his wrist-thick wand. The feeling of his cock snot dribbling down my throat got my tuna tunnel tears flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. After having my vibration station raided, he then proceeded to slam my Oxo orifice. Inserting a barbie doll into my split peach got me spouting vertical moisture faster than a greased weasel shit. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his jebend made my pussy batter slime like a rabid dog. There was gentleman's relish frothing from his blind butler and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. The unrelenting orgasms from his stilton spear slamming my vaginal bacon buffet made me come so hard, I began sweating like a fat slag in a disco. My cake hole was so full of blind butler and man fat, the creamy load was draining down my chin and onto my fiery biscuits. Within no time, I could feel the shitty gentleman's relish seeping from my Oxo orifice and all over my flappy meal. When he removed his giggle stick from my turd-herder, he was pleasantly surprised to see a colon cobra staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the corn-eyed butt snake off his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus. With my meaty hangers now much like a sand blasted tomato, he thought it was time to start shoving my rusty bullet hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to curl a stink pickle, I wondered? With his womb ferret hammering deep into my gashtray, the sensation of his jebend smashing my cervix made me quake like a tasered slab of chopped liver. He eased out a giant butt nugget on my sweater puppies just so he could devour it up like a bulldog eating porridge. By now, my cock holster was slobbering like a George Foreman grill
. He munched on my spam castanets, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his jade rod probed deeper into my fart valve. I awoke the next morning with my cod crater still sliming. I thought it was over but his purple beaver buster had other ideas. My moose knuckle was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and man fat in my balloon knot created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of.
After having my furry cup plowed, he then proceeded to raid my fudge factory. The fucking of my ring piece was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds joining his spam dagger deep in my old dirt road. The feeling of his baby gravy seeping down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. It was bliss having his one-eyed monster rammed inside me again; stuffing my clunge pool with an egg timer just didn't get my cod cave spattering like it used to. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his chubstep shoved deeper into my mud flap. He munched on my panty hamster, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. When he removed his sperminator from my chocolate starfish, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the butt nugget off his ramrod. By now, my ladytown was weeping like a hungry pig at a trough. 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 vibrator crater and a gerbil up my rusty bullet hole. The plowing makes me flow my pussy batter all over his cervix cigar. The mixture of butt nugget and steamin' semen in my Mavis Fritter created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. With his throbbing quim dagger hammering deep into my penis pothole, the sensation of his pink tractor beam smashing my cervix made me quiver like a tasered slab of chopped liver. If I don't fluff the muff to get my sex wee dribbling from my birth cannon, his throbbing quim dagger is going to leave my clap flaps resembling a ripped out fireplace. With my meaty hangers now much like a gutted trout, he thought it was time to start plunging my black hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cut a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? I awoke the next morning with my carp cavity still oozing. I thought it was over but his wrist-thick wand had other ideas. Inserting my fist into my chlamydia canal got me spouting minge monsoon faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his giggle stick made my flange custard flow like a rabid dog. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock custard seeping from my turd cutter and all over my vertical garden. There was love piss haemorrhaging from his skeleton king and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. My throat was so full of spam dagger and gentleman's relish, the cock snot was dribbling down my chin and onto my rack. He arced a giant toilet twinkie on my love bubbles just so he could consume it up like a hungry hungry hippo. The unrelenting orgasms from his mutton dagger slamming my salmon slit made me come so hard, I began sweating like Gary glitter at PC World. I can't wait to gobble the ectoplasm from his huge penis. My enchilada of love was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's beef curtains looking like an over inflated dinghy, and I was no different!
I awoke the next morning with my penis pothole still weeping. I thought it was over but his pink tractor beam had other ideas. He rolled a giant Mr. Hanky on my breasticles just so he could chow down on 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 cumtree shoved deeper into my cocoa channel. He munched on my meaty hangers, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. The feeling of his love mayonnaise leaking down my throat got my sex wee flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. The mixture of colon cobra and gentleman's relish in my mud flap created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. Within no time, I could feel the shitty gentleman's relish seeping from my brown mile and all over my meaty hangers. The plowing of my brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his jingle-jangle jewellery joining his giggle stick deep in my tradesman's entrance. When he removed his cream reaper from my mud flap, 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 ample cock. If I don't fluff the muff to get my minge mucus weeping from my slime hole, his greasy slimelight is going to leave my roast beef platter resembling a motorway pileup. I can't wait to suck the love piss from his devil's bagpipe. By now, my whispering eye was flowing like a hungry pig at a trough. It was bliss having his balony pony slid inside me again; stuffing my cock holster with my fist just didn't get my clearing in the woods squirting like it used to. Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his greasy slimelight made my vertical moisture leak like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. Some girls are happy just to flick the bean when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an egg timer in my bearded haddock pasty and a number of chillies up my puckered brown eye. My carp cavity was trembling like a rat on acid. The unrelenting orgasms from his womb ferret plowing my furry cup made me come so hard, I began sweating like a pregnant nun. The thrusting makes me flow my flange custard all over his greasy kebab skewer. With my panty hamster now much like a werewolf with it's throat cut, he thought it was time to start shoving my other vagina. Is now the time to tell him I really need to arc a colon cobra, I wondered? The seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his greasy slimelight soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My mouth was so full of gristle missile and cock custard, the Da Vinci load was dribbling down my chin and onto my love bubbles. With his purple-headed trouser snake raiding deep into my clam-flavoured pothole, the sensation of his meaty member smashing my cervix made me quiver like a tasered slab of chopped liver. Inserting my fist into my calamari cockring got me gushing vertical moisture faster than snot off a whip. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's vertical smile looking like a werewolf with it's throat cut, and I was no different! There was creamy load draining from his cream reaper and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more.
Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my cod canyon got me spattering beige slime faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. He blasted a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my twin peaks just so he could gobble it up like a bulldog eating porridge. With my purple cabbage now much like a motorway pileup, he thought it was time to start plunging my black hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to ease a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? By now, my stench trench was sliming like a rabid dog. The unrelenting orgasms from his wrist-thick wand hammering my municipal cockwash made me come so hard, I began sweating like a pregnant nun. The seemingly never-ending streams of love piss emanating from his gristle missile soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. There was steamin' semen trickling from his ample cock and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. If I don't finger blast to get my flange custard leaking from my shamevelope, his master of ceremonies is going to leave my furburger resembling a sand blasted tomato. My south mouth was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. The feeling of his steamin' semen weeping down my throat got my minge mucus flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock custard sliming from my poo pipe and all over my open-faced ham sandwich. I can't wait to devour the cock snot from his veiny quim prod. My throat was so full of spam javelin and man fat, the love piss was frothing down my chin and onto my sweater puppies. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his spam dagger made my vertical moisture slobber like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. It was bliss having his skin flute probed inside me again; stuffing my furry cup with an egg timer just didn't get my chamber of squelch gushing like it used to. I awoke the next morning with my whispering eye still frothing. I thought it was over but his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus had other
ideas. The pounding makes me spritz my pussy batter all over his stilton sword. Some girls are happy just to dial the rotary phone when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a squash in my spunk dungeon and a squash up my marmite motorway. The slamming of my old dirt road was so vigorous, he soon found his man berries joining his piss pipe deep in my Oxo orifice. When he removed his pink tractor beam from my chocolate starfish, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the sewer trout off his spam javelin. The mixture of sewer trout and man fat in my shit winker created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. He munched on my velcro triangle, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. With his womb raider plowing deep into my depravity cavity, the sensation of his piss pipe smashing my cervix made me quiver like jelly. After having my penis pothole fucked, he then proceeded to fuck my vintage golf bag. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's spam castanets looking like Pete Burns' lips, and I was no different!
The feeling of his love mayonnaise slobbering down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. The plowing of my old dirt road was so vigorous, he soon found his man marbles joining his huge penis deep in my tradesman's entrance. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's clap flaps looking like a motorway pileup, and I was no different! If I don't buff the muff to get my vertical moisture trickling from my vibrator crater, his master of ceremonies is going to leave my piss flaps resembling a gutted trout. With his cunt plunger fucking deep into my tampon tunnel, the sensation of his kebeb skewer smashing my cervix made me quake like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his bald-headed yogurt slinger made my spaff slime like a George Foreman grill. With my velcro triangle now much like the Japanese flag, he thought it was time to start sliding my chocolate starfish. Is now the time to tell him I really need to curl a toilet twinkie, I wondered? My clearing in the woods was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. Within no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding weeping from my other vagina and all over my roast beef platter. Some girls are happy just to strum the banjo when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a barbie doll in my fuck gutter and a 15" spiked vibrator up my fart valve. I awoke the next morning with my gashtray still frothing. I thought it was over but his cumtree had other ideas. There was magician's wax foaming from his cunt plunger and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. My cake hole was so full of disco stick and cock custard, the love mayonnaise was flowing down my chin and onto my mammaries. Inserting a 9-iron into my smush mitten got me spraying pussy batter faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cunt stretcher probed deeper into my brown mile. The unrelenting orgasms from his blue-veined custard chucker fucking my herring hole made me come so hard, I began sweating like a pregnant nun. After having my soft-shelled tuna taco plowed, he then proceeded to fuck my poo pipe. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and ectoplasm in my soft tight anus created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. He rolled a giant colon cobra on my mosquito bites just so he could devour it up like a bulldog eating porridge. When he removed his cervix cigar from my puckered brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the colon cobra off his greasy kebab skewer. The seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from his clunger soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He munched on my hairy goblet, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. By now, my gammon alley was dripping like a broken coffee maker. The raiding makes me eject my spaff all over his bald avenger. I can't wait to suck the love piss from his veiny quim prod.
