by Amy Woods
The mixture of butt nugget and magician's wax in my Oxo orifice created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his Ocean's 11 Inches soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My cake hole was so full of spam javelin and creamy load, the man fat was sliming down my chin and onto my sweater puppies. It was bliss having his slut slayer stuffed inside me again; stuffing my chamber of squelch with a gerbil just didn't get my spunk dungeon spritzing like it used to. I can't wait to suck the cock custard from his purple beaver buster. He blasted a giant footlong fudge bullet on my droopies just so he could suck it up like a pig at a trough. Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his giggle stick made my beige slime ooze like a broken coffee maker. When he removed his cheese-crusted cock from my rusty sherif's badge, he was pleasantly surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the sewer trout off his flesh gordon. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen draining from my brown mile and all over my lunchmeat. With his love muscle pounding deep into my furry cup, the sensation of his chubstep smashing my cervix made me quiver like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's flappy meal looking like a badly wrapped kebab, and I was no different! The feeling of his man fat flowing down my throat got my sex wee flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. 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 15" spiked vibrator in my cum dumpster and my fist up my poop chute. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his greasy kebab skewer slid deeper into my poo pipe. After having my kipper dinghy thrusted, he then proceeded to hammer my ring piece. With my hairy goblet now much like a hippo's yawn, he thought it was time to start probing my poop chute. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? The slamming of my turd-herder was so vigorous, he soon found his jingle-jangle jewellery joining his skeleton king deep in my balloon knot. By now, my moose knuckle was leaching like a rabid dog. Inserting an antique doorknob into my vibrator crater got me spouting tuna tunnel tears faster than snot off a whip. He munched on my purple cabbage, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. If I don't strum the banjo to get my pussy batter trickling from my gammon alley, his bald avenger is going to leave my vertical garden resembling a motorway pileup. I awoke the next morning with my fuck gutter still seeping. I thought it was over but his ramrod had other ideas. The slamming makes me flood my minge mucus all over his stilton sword. My mound of love pudding was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. The unrelenting orgasms from his batter blaster fucking my depravity cavity made me come so hard, I began sweating like a dyslexic on Countdown.
The mixture of Mr. Hanky and penis pudding in my poop chute created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. With my flappy meal now much like a dropped burrito, he thought it was time to start ramming my black hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a butt nugget, I wondered? The slamming of my fudge factory was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his jade rod deep in my vintage golf bag. By now, my soft-shelled tuna taco was seeping like a slug in a salt mine. My fuck trench was trembling like a rat on acid. With his clunger plowing deep into my soft-shelled tuna taco, the sensation of his slut slayer smashing my cervix made me quiver like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. I awoke the next morning with my spunk dungeon still flowing. I thought it was over but his cunt stretcher had other ideas. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my vaginal bacon buffet got me ejecting pussy batter faster than snot off a whip. The unrelenting orgasms from his greasy slimelight raiding my fuck trench made me come so hard, I began sweating like Mike Tyson at a spelling bee. When he removed his thrill drill from my old dirt road, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the toilet twinkie off his one-eyed monster. The feeling of his magician's wax oozing down my throat got my tuna tunnel tears flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his ample cock made my spaff slime like a jizz waterfall. After having my ground zero grotto raided, he then proceeded to hammer my turd cutter. He blasted a giant stink pickle on my twin peaks just so he could suck it up like a bulldog eating porridge. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his throbbing quim dagger slid deeper into my fart valve. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love piss trickling from my brown eye and all over my velcro triangle. The hammering makes me spray my beige slime all over his womb raider. If I don't study english cliterature to get my spaff haemorrhaging from my municipal cockwash, his chubstep is going to leave my vertical garden resembling a bulldog licking piss from a thistle. It was bliss having his chubstep stuffed inside me again; stuffing my gammon alley with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my municipal cockwash flooding like it used to. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his devil's bagpipe soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Some girls are happy just to audition the finger puppets when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a number of chillies in my tampon tunnel and a squash up my rusty sherif's badge. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's clap flaps looking like a ripped out fireplace, and I was no different! I can't wait to consume the Da Vinci load from his love lollipop. He munched on my furburger, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. There was cock snot oozing from his thrill drill and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more.
Within no time, I could feel the shitty gentleman's relish draining from my turd-herder and all over my open-faced ham sandwich. When he removed his huge penis from my turd-herder, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the corn-eyed butt snake off his balony pony. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his all-beef thermometer made my sex wee dribble like a broken coffee maker. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his timed slimer plunged deeper into my other vagina. With my velcro triangle now much like a hippo's yawn, he thought it was time to start shoving my black hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to launch a toilet twinkie, I wondered? I awoke the next morning with my kipper dinghy still dripping. I thought it was over but his blue-veined custard chucker had other ideas. Inserting a barbie doll into my bearded haddock pasty got me spouting minge monsoon faster than a greased weasel shit. The unrelenting orgasms from his flesh gordon fucking my cod cave made me come so hard, I began sweating like Mike Tyson at a spelling bee. The pounding of my Mavis Fritter was so vigorous, he soon found his chin pounders joining his ramrod deep in my cocoa channel. It was bliss having his cunt plunger shoved inside me again; stuffing my meat purse with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my furry cup spraying like it used to. The seemingly never-ending streams of Da Vinci load emanating from his tenderloin truncheon soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The feeling of his penis pudding foaming down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. I can't wait to chow down on the cock custard from his clunger. After having my municipal cockwash thrusted, he then proceeded to pound my brown eye. He arced a giant toilet twinkie on my mosquito bites just so he could consume it up like a bulldog eating porridge. He munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. The mixture of sewer trout and steamin' semen in my turd-herder created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. The fucking makes me spray my pussy batter all over his purple-headed trouser snake. If I don't flick the bean to get my tuna tunnel tears leaking from my clunge pool, his Ocean's 11 Inches is going to leave my hairy goblet resembling a shot cat. With his piss pipe plowing deep into my gammon alley, the sensation of h
is brie baton smashing my cervix made me quiver like jelly. Some girls are happy just to tune the tuna when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an egg timer in my clearing in the woods and an egg timer up my brown mile. There was cock snot oozing from his kebeb skewer and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's meaty hangers looking like a badly wrapped kebab, and I was no different! My shame portal was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. My mouth was so full of clunger and creamy load, the gentleman's relish was flowing down my chin and onto my sweater puppies.
With my hairy goblet now much like that bathroom door in The Shining, he thought it was time to start ramming my poop chute. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's spam castanets looking like a darts team's goalkeeper, and I was no different! Inserting my fist into my smush mitten got me flowing flange custard faster than a greased weasel shit. After having my ladytown thrusted, he then proceeded to pound my brown eye. The mixture of toilet twinkie and baby gravy in my shit winker created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. He pitched a giant butt nugget on my rack just so he could gobble it up like a bulldog eating porridge. I can't wait to gobble the creamy load from his veiny quim prod. The hammering of my soft tight anus was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his spam javelin deep in my puckered brown eye. By now, my mound of love pudding was foaming like a broken fridge freezer. The pounding makes me gush my clunge gunge all over his gristle missile. My front bum was trembling like a shitting dog. 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 vibration station and my fist up my turd cutter. My throat was so full of sperminator and cock custard, the cock custard was frothing down my chin and onto my mammaries. There was penis pudding dripping from his balony pony and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. The seemingly never-ending streams of love piss emanating from his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I awoke the next morning with my moose knuckle still sliming. I thought it was over but his stilton spear had other ideas. Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his stilton spear made my fallopian fish stock slobber like a slug in a salt mine. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my sex wee seeping from my cock holster, his battering ram is going to leave my flappy meal resembling a clown's pocket. With his giggle stick thrusting deep into my cod canyon, the sensation of his bugger king smashing my cervix made me quiver like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. It was bliss having his Ocean's 11 Inches stuffed inside me again; stuffing my vibrator crater with a barbie doll just didn't get my cod canyon spattering like it used to. He munched on my vertical smile, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. The unrelenting orgasms from his spam dagger plowing my quim made me come so hard, I began sweating like a whore in a confessional. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his skeleton king probed deeper into my brown eye. When he removed his ample cock from my Oxo orifice, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the butt nugget off his battering ram. The feeling of his cock snot foaming down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit.
He cut a giant sewer trout on my top bollocks just so he could consume it up like a bulldog eating porridge. Inserting a squash into my clearing in the woods got me surging pussy batter faster than a greased weasel shit. The hammering makes me gush my sex wee all over his pink tractor beam. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his batter blaster 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 bugger king rammed deeper into my puckered brown eye. There was ectoplasm weeping from his blind butler and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. If I don't study english cliterature to get my beige slime weeping from my Quimcy, M.E., his clunger is going to leave my purple cabbage resembling a ripped out fireplace. The raiding of my mud flap was so vigorous, he soon found his trouser conkors joining his skeleton king deep in my brown eye. My vibrator crater was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. By now, my clunge pool was slobbering like a slavering dog. Within no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load draining from my brown mile and all over my panty hamster. With his womb ferret thrusting deep into my penis pothole, the sensation of his Ocean's 11 Inches smashing my cervix made me quiver like a shitting dog. I can't wait to lap the cock snot from his blind butler. It was bliss having his huge penis plunged inside me again; stuffing my calamari cockring with a gerbil just didn't get my vibrator crater spraying like it used to. The feeling of his cock custard leaking down my throat got my flange custard flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's clap flaps looking like Pete Burns' lips, and I was no different! My throat was so full of skeleton king and gentleman's relish, the love mayonnaise was seeping down my chin and onto my rack. With my vertical garden now much like Terry Waite's allotment, he thought it was time to start probing my brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to extrude a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his Ocean's 11 Inches made my pussy batter drain like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. The unrelenting orgasms from his meaty member thrusting my herring hole made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and cock snot in my poop chute created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. He munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. After having my frilling pink golf bag pounded, he then proceeded to slam my chocolate starfish. When he removed his skeleton king 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 footlong fudge bullet off his stilton spear. I awoke the next morning with my clam-flavoured pothole still dribbling. I thought it was over but his greasy kebab skewer had other ideas.
The seemingly never-ending streams of Da Vinci load emanating from his purple-headed trouser snake soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With his one-eyed monster pounding deep into my gammon alley, the sensation of his love lollipop smashing my cervix made me quiver like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. I awoke the next morning with my mound of love pudding still dripping. I thought it was over but his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus had other ideas. I can't wait to lap the cock custard from his love lollipop. The thrusting makes me spray my shrimp sap all over his skeleton king. He munched on my clap flaps, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. With my spam castanets now much like a motorway pileup, he thought it was time to start sliding my fart valve. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a butt nugget, I wondered? The unrelenting orgasms from his meaty member raiding my meat purse made me come so hard, I began sweating like a pregnant nun. When he removed his thrill drill from my other vagina, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the stink pickle off his batter blaster. The feeling of his creamy load trickling down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. It was bliss having his sperminator shoved inside me again; stuffing my gashtray with an egg timer just didn't get my penis pothole flowing like it used to. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his master of ceremonies stuffed deeper into my rusty bullet hole. Some girls are happy just to audition the finger puppets when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 15" spiked vibrator in my meat purse and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my vintage golf bag. There was magician's wax frothing from his balony pony and I was wetter than an English summer. We were read
y for more. My municipal cockwash was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's lunchmeat looking like a bulldog licking piss from a thistle, and I was no different! After having my birth cannon fucked, he then proceeded to thrust my turd cutter. He cut a giant stink pickle on my twin peaks just so he could consume it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The mixture of colon cobra and Da Vinci load in my poop chute created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. Within no time, I could feel the shitty baby gravy oozing from my soft tight anus and all over my open-faced ham sandwich. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his jade rod made my minge mucus dribble like a rabid dog. The pounding of my poop chute was so vigorous, he soon found his kids on a swing joining his batter blaster deep in my turd cutter. By now, my smush mitten was draining like a jizz waterfall. If I don't audition the finger puppets to get my sex wee foaming from my whispering eye, his piss pipe is going to leave my piss flaps resembling Brian May's plughole. My mouth was so full of thrill drill and penis pudding, the cock custard was trickling down my chin and onto my breasticles.
With his batter blaster pounding deep into my tampon tunnel, the sensation of his thrill drill smashing my cervix made me quiver like a tasered slab of chopped liver. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his brie baton slid deeper into my balloon knot. After having my vaginal bacon buffet slammed, he then proceeded to slam my rusty bullet hole. I can't wait to consume the cock snot from his skin flute. When he removed his greasy kebab skewer from my fudge factory, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the toilet twinkie off his purple-headed trouser snake. My split peach was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his cervix cigar made my shrimp sap ooze like a jizz waterfall. Within no time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm trickling from my brown eye and all over my clap flaps. My cake hole was so full of chubstep and cock custard, the cock snot was dripping down my chin and onto my chest puppies. The raiding makes me flood my minge monsoon all over his turgid terror truncheon. It was bliss having his long-dong silver plunged inside me again; stuffing my vibration station with a lightbulb just didn't get my vaginal bacon buffet spraying like it used to. There was cock custard leaking from his vein cane and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. Some girls are happy just to study english cliterature when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in my depravity cavity and an egg timer up my tradesman's entrance. He munched on my furburger, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. The thrusting of my brown mile was so vigorous, he soon found his hairy walnuts joining his wrist-thick wand deep in my turd cutter. With my panty hamster now much like a gutted trout, he thought it was time to start probing my cocoa channel. Is now the time to tell him I really need to blast a toilet twinkie, I wondered? The mixture of Mr. Hanky and cock custard in my other vagina created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. The seemingly never-ending streams of man fat emanating from his giggle stick soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's meaty hangers looking like a manatee in yoga pants, and I was no different! The feeling of his magician's wax weeping down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. He cut a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my chest puppies just so he could gobble it up like a hungry hungry hippo. By now, my wizards sleeve was dribbling like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. If I don't study english cliterature to get my vertical moisture leaching from my tampon tunnel, his wensleydale wand is going to leave my fishy flaps resembling a bucket of smashed crabs. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my salmon slit got me flowing fallopian fish stock faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. I awoke the next morning with my wunder down under still oozing. I thought it was over but his greasy slimelight had other ideas.
