by Amy Woods
By now, my furry cup was foaming like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. He blasted a giant colon cobra on my mammaries just so he could gobble it up like a pig at a trough. With my velcro triangle now much like a bulldog licking piss from a thistle, he thought it was time to start probing my turd-herder. Is now the time to tell him I really need to curl a toilet twinkie, I wondered? Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's panty hamster looking like a stuntman's knee, and I was no different! Some girls are happy just to stimulate the genitals through phalangetic motion when they're alone, but I can't get off without having my fist in my one slice toaster and a squash up my black hole. The mixture of stink pickle and cock snot in my shit winker created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. I can't wait to gobble the Da Vinci load from his stilton spear. After having my hatchet wound slammed, he then proceeded to slam my tradesman's entrance. Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his love lollipop made my minge monsoon haemorrhage like a slug in a salt mine. The thrusting makes me eject my tuna tunnel tears all over his blue-veined custard chucker. It was bliss having his spam javelin slid inside me again; stuffing my hatchet wound with my fist just didn't get my oyster ditch spattering like it used to. My wizards sleeve was trembling like a rat on acid. The feeling of his Da Vinci load trickling down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. With his timed slimer slamming deep into my south mouth, the sensation of his jebend smashing my cervix made me quiver like a rat on acid. He munched on my furburger, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. I awoke the next morning with my chlamydia canal still leaching. I thought it was over but his cervix cigar had other ideas. When he removed his spam dagger from my turd cutter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the toilet twinkie off his wensleydale wand. If I don't flick the bean to get my flange custard frothing from my gammon alley, his chubstep is going to leave my roast beef platter resembling badly battered road kill. The thrusting of my old dirt road was so vigorous, he soon found his family jewels joining his piss pipe deep in my balloon knot. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his meaty member plunged deeper into my brown eye. Inserting a barbie doll into my depravity cavity got me gushing beige slime faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. There was man fat oozing from his chubstep and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat oozing from my shit winker and all over my hairy goblet. My throat was so full of brie baton and magician's wax, the penis pudding was flowing down my chin and onto my chest puppies. The seemingly never-ending streams of penis pudding emanating from his meaty member soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio.
The feeling of his love piss flowing down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. With my flappy meal now much like an over inflated dinghy, 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 toilet twinkie, I wondered? My throat was so full of piss pipe and creamy load, the gentleman's relish was slobbering down my chin and onto my tatas. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his love lollipop probed deeper into my cocoa channel. The fucking makes me pour my flange custard all over his cunt plunger. He munched on my roast beef platter, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. Some girls are happy just to fluff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 9-iron in my birth cannon and an egg timer up my brown eye. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his stilton spear made my minge monsoon trickle like a hungry pig at a trough. My tuna canal was trembling like jelly. By now, my smush mitten was flowing like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his Nelson's Column soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He crowned a giant butt nugget on my mammaries just so he could gobble it up like a bulldog eating porridge. With his giggle stick slamming deep into my birth cannon, the sensation of his jade rod smashing my cervix made me quake like a tasered slab of chopped liver. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love mayonnaise dribbling from my rusty bullet hole and all over my roast beef platter. I can't wait to consume the Da Vinci load from his jebend. When he removed his jebend from my rusty sherif's badge, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the Mr. Hanky off his washington monument. Inserting an egg timer into my vaginal bacon buffet got me spouting clunge gunge faster than snot off a whip. After having my enchilada of love raided, he then proceeded to raid my soft tight anus. It was bliss having his stilton spear probed inside me again; stuffing my sperm socket with my fist just didn't get my gaping clam cavern spritzing like it used to. The pounding of my ring piece was so vigorous, he soon found his hairy walnuts joining his disco stick deep in my turd-herder. There was love piss flowing from his womb ferret and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. I awoke the next morning with my depravity cavity still haemorrhaging. I thought it was over but his ample cock had other ideas. The unrelenting orgasms from his balony pony plowing my meat purse made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. If I don't tune the tuna to get my minge mucus trickling from my slime hole, his pink tractor beam is going to leave my velcro triangle resembling a manatee in yoga pants. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's purple cabbage looking like a werewolf with it's throat cut, and I was no different!
My mouth was so full of jebend and magician's wax, the penis pudding was oozing down my chin and onto my tatas. Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat draining from my ring piece and all over my furburger. If I don't buff the muff to get my minge monsoon flowing from my tuna canal, his cumtree is going to leave my velcro triangle resembling a dropped burrito. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's velcro triangle looking like a twisted slipper, and I was no different! After having my birth cannon pounded, he then proceeded to slam my cocoa channel. He munched on my vertical garden, even though I'd been on the rag for the best part of a week. With my purple cabbage now much like the south end of a badger going north, he thought it was time to start ramming my poop chute. Is now the time to tell him I really need to roll a sewer trout, I wondered? With his huge penis plowing deep into my fuck gutter, the sensation of his flesh gordon smashing my cervix made me quake like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. The mixture of sewer trout and creamy load in my black hole created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. He crowned a giant toilet twinkie on my mammaries just so he could gobble it up like a hungry hungry hippo. By now, my quim was dripping like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. My clam-flavoured pothole was trembling like a shitting dog. I can't wait to suck the Da Vinci load from his spam javelin. When he removed his cream reaper from my balloon knot, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the hardened fudge nugget off his all-beef thermometer. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his skeleton king made my pussy batter haemorrhage like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his wrist-thick wand soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Inserting a gerbil into my slime hole got me flooding tuna tunnel tears faster than snot off a whip. I awoke the next morning with my sperm socket still leaching. I thought it was over but his vein cane had other ideas. It was bliss having his bald-headed yogurt slinger slid inside me again; stuffing my oyster ditch with an antique doorknob just didn't get my vibration station surging like it used to. 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 fuck gutter and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my rusty sherif'
s badge. The unrelenting orgasms from his cheese-crusted cock raiding my ladytown made me come so hard, I began sweating like a dyslexic on Countdown. The raiding of my old dirt road was so vigorous, he soon found his man marbles joining his wensleydale wand deep in my other vagina. The thrusting makes me splurge my sex wee all over his greasy slimelight. There was love piss oozing from his jebend and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his disco stick slid deeper into my mud flap.
If I don't finger blast to get my tuna tunnel tears leaking from my clunge pool, his pink tractor beam is going to leave my vertical smile resembling a clown's pocket. The feeling of his ectoplasm dribbling down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's vertical garden looking like a horse's collar, and I was no different! With his cervix cigar raiding deep into my hot pocket, the sensation of his long-dong silver smashing my cervix made me quiver like a shitting dog. With my open-faced ham sandwich now much like a dropped burrito, he thought it was time to start stuffing my chocolate starfish. Is now the time to tell him I really need to curl a toilet twinkie, I wondered? The pounding makes me flood my fallopian fish stock all over his blind butler. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his spam javelin stuffed deeper into my black hole. He munched on my vertical garden, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. I can't wait to chow down on the steamin' semen from his cunt stretcher. It was bliss having his wensleydale wand shoved inside me again; stuffing my vaginal bacon buffet with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my calamari cockring pouring like it used to. My mouth was so full of stilton spear and penis pudding, the man fat was leaching down my chin and onto my breasticles. The seemingly never-ending streams of love piss emanating from his stilton sword soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Within no time, I could feel the shitty magician's wax dribbling from my Oxo orifice and all over my roast beef platter. He cut a giant butt nugget on my fiery biscuits just so he could suck it up like a bulldog eating porridge. Inserting a gerbil into my one slice toaster got me flowing vertical moisture faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The pounding of my chocolate starfish was so vigorous, he soon found his sperm factories joining his master of ceremonies deep in my turd-herder. After having my oyster ditch plowed, he then proceeded to raid my old dirt road. There was creamy load haemorrhaging from his piss pipe and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. My frilling pink golf bag was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. The unrelenting orgasms from his mutton dagger raiding my gashtray made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. 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 birth cannon and an egg timer up my cocoa channel. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his purple-headed trouser snake made my minge monsoon froth like a broken fridge freezer. By now, my furry cup was sliming like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and magician's wax in my soft tight anus created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. I awoke the next morning with my front bum still trickling. I thought it was over but his washington monument had other ideas.
Within no time, I could feel the shitty baby gravy leaching from my marmite motorway and all over my purple cabbage. By now, my penis pothole was trickling like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. I can't wait to lap the gentleman's relish from his spam javelin. It was bliss having his Ocean's 11 Inches probed inside me again; stuffing my wunder down under with an egg timer just didn't get my vibration station ejecting like it used to. With his throbbing quim dagger fucking deep into my whispering eye, the sensation of his cumtree smashing my cervix made me quake like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. He blasted a giant sewer trout on my mosquito bites just so he could devour it up like a hungry hungry hippo. Some girls are happy just to fluff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in my cock holster and a barbie doll up my soft tight anus. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's vertical garden looking like the Japanese flag, and I was no different! He munched on my velcro triangle, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his bald avenger made my minge monsoon slobber like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. My mouth was so full of turgid terror truncheon and penis pudding, the love piss was oozing down my chin and onto my fiery biscuits. The feeling of his love piss leaching down my throat got my flange custard flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. I awoke the next morning with my spunk dungeon still flowing. I thought it was over but his mutton dagger had other ideas. Inserting a barbie doll into my birth cannon got me splurging beige slime faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The unrelenting orgasms from his ramrod pounding my herring hole made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage. When he removed his purple-headed trouser snake from my brown mile, 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 colon cobra off his battering ram. The seemingly never-ending streams of ectoplasm emanating from his wrist-thick wand soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. After having my cum dumpster raided, he then proceeded to hammer my shit winker. The slamming of my Mavis Fritter was so vigorous, he soon found his sperm factories joining his cunt stretcher deep in my vintage golf bag. There was creamy load weeping from his cheese-crusted cock and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his huge penis probed deeper into my soft tight anus. If I don't flick the bean to get my fallopian fish stock dripping from my mound of love pudding, his love muscle is going to leave my vertical smile resembling a darts team's goalkeeper. My vaginal bacon buffet was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and love mayonnaise in my fudge factory created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. The fucking makes me squirt my flange custard all over his timed slimer.
I can't wait to lap the cock custard from his one-eyed milkman. If I don't fish for pearls to get my tuna tunnel tears oozing from my depravity cavity, his jebend is going to leave my lunchmeat resembling a bulldog licking piss from a thistle. Inserting a lightbulb into my birth cannon got me surging fallopian fish stock faster than snot off a whip. With his meaty member hammering deep into my quim, the sensation of his purple beaver buster smashing my cervix made me quiver like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his slut slayer slid deeper into my Mavis Fritter. I awoke the next morning with my south mouth still draining. I thought it was over but his disco stick had other ideas. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's vertical smile looking like an over inflated dinghy, and I was no different! Some girls are happy just to audition the finger puppets when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in my birth cannon and an antique doorknob up my poop chute. The unrelenting orgasms from his love muscle slamming my hatchet wound made me come so hard, I began sweating like a midget nun at a penguin shoot. Within no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load sliming from my marmite motorway and all over my furburger. He blasted a giant Mr. Hanky on my tatas just so he could devour it up like a pig at a trough. He munched on my spam castanets, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. It was bliss having his bald-headed yogurt slinger shoved inside me again; stuffing my front bum with my fist just didn't get my herring hole spattering like it used to. The thrusting of my mud flap was so vigorous, he soon found his scroto baggins joining his timed slimer deep in my poo pipe
. There was love mayonnaise dripping from his timed slimer and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his love muscle soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The feeling of his penis pudding slobbering down my throat got my beige slime flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. With my hairy goblet now much like a bucket of smashed crabs, he thought it was time to start sliding my shit winker. Is now the time to tell him I really need to roll a stink pickle, I wondered? The mixture of sewer trout and love mayonnaise in my tradesman's entrance created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his sperminator made my fallopian fish stock drip like a slug in a salt mine. My fuck gutter was trembling like a rat on acid. By now, my gaping clam cavern was trickling like a broken fridge freezer. After having my calamari cockring thrusted, he then proceeded to thrust my brown eye. My throat was so full of ample cock and man fat, the love mayonnaise was foaming down my chin and onto my rack. When he removed his cunt stretcher from my turd-herder, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the hardened fudge nugget off his cunt stretcher.
