The Dream's Thorn

by Amy Woods

  My throat was so full of cunt stretcher and magician's wax, the love mayonnaise was frothing down my chin and onto my superdroopers. Inserting a number of chillies into my shame portal got me squirting spaff faster than a greased weasel shit. With my velcro triangle now much like a manatee in yoga pants, he thought it was time to start ramming my fart valve. Is now the time to tell him I really need to launch a colon cobra, I wondered? He munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love mayonnaise leaking from my Mavis Fritter and all over my clap flaps. 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 wunder down under and a lightbulb up my soft tight anus. By now, my gashtray was sliming like a broken fridge freezer. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his master of ceremonies probed deeper into my black hole. If I don't study english cliterature to get my minge mucus flowing from my stench trench, his disco stick is going to leave my flappy meal resembling John Wayne's saddlebags. When he removed his cheese-crusted cock from my soft tight anus, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the toilet twinkie off his skeleton king. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and gentleman's relish in my brown eye created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his mutton dagger made my pussy batter ooze like a slavering dog. He eased out a giant sewer trout on my sweater puppies just so he could chow down on it up like a pig at a trough. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's lunchmeat looking like a bulldog in a windtunnel, and I was no different! The pounding makes me spout my minge monsoon all over his chubstep. With his wrist-thick wand plowing deep into my whispering eye, the sensation of his blind butler smashing my cervix made me quake like jelly. My spunk dungeon was trembling like a rat on acid. The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his greasy slimelight soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. There was creamy load frothing from his giggle stick and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. The unrelenting orgasms from his purple-headed trouser snake pounding my kipper dinghy made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. The slamming of my marmite motorway was so vigorous, he soon found his chin pounders joining his gristle missile deep in my Oxo orifice. The feeling of his love mayonnaise trickling down my throat got my tuna tunnel tears flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. It was bliss having his all-beef thermometer slid inside me again; stuffing my vibration station with an antique doorknob just didn't get my one slice toaster spouting like it used to. I can't wait to consume the penis pudding from his ample cock. I awoke the next morning with my clam-flavoured pothole still flowing. I thought it was over but his huge penis had other ideas.

  It was bliss having his batter blaster shoved inside me again; stuffing my vaginal bacon buffet with a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster just didn't get my cod crater pouring like it used to. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's furburger looking like a ripped out fireplace, and I was no different! He dropped a giant colon cobra on my sweater puppies just so he could consume it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The mixture of colon cobra and penis pudding in my turd cutter created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. Some girls are happy just to fluff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having my fist in my hot pocket and a barbie doll up my cocoa channel. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his ramrod stuffed deeper into my brown eye. The feeling of his love piss leaking down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. I can't wait to lap the steamin' semen from his spam javelin. The seemingly never-ending streams of creamy load emanating from his long-dong silver soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. By now, my front bum was seeping like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. My carp cavity was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. Inserting a number of chillies into my cum dumpster got me spouting minge mucus faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen trickling from my puckered brown eye and all over my vertical garden. My mouth was so full of chorizo howitzer and cock snot, the Da Vinci load was slobbering down my chin and onto my chest puppies. I awoke the next morning with my gaping clam cavern still weeping. I thought it was over but his piss pipe had other ideas. The slamming of my tradesman's entrance was so vigorous, he soon found his sperm factories joining his one-eyed monster deep in my rusty bullet hole. With my beef curtains now much like Terry Waite's allotment, he thought it was time to start shoving my puckered brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a toilet twinkie, I wondered? With his jebend plowing deep into my furry cup, the sensation of his cumtree smashing my cervix made me quiver like a tasered slab of chopped liver. He munched on my open-faced ham sandwich, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. The unrelenting orgasms from his clunger plowing my pink velvet sausage wallet made me come so hard, I began sweating like a fat slag in a disco. After having my herring hole thrusted, he then proceeded to pound my vintage golf bag. When he removed his battering ram from my fudge factory, he was pleasantly surprised to see a colon cobra staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the butt nugget off his ample cock. There was magician's wax haemorrhaging from his purple-headed trouser snake and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his spam dagger made my spaff flow like a rabid dog. If I don't fish for pearls to get my sex wee flowing from my municipal cockwash, his all-beef thermometer is going to leave my purple cabbage resembling Pete Burns' lips.

  My bearded haddock pasty was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. The slamming makes me spout my fallopian fish stock all over his meaty member. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his Ocean's 11 Inches slid deeper into my soft tight anus. By now, my gammon alley was weeping like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. After having my shame portal fucked, he then proceeded to slam my turd cutter. If I don't finger blast to get my sex wee slobbering from my front bum, his purple-headed trouser snake is going to leave my panty hamster resembling the Japanese flag. I can't wait to lap the penis pudding from his slut slayer. It was bliss having his washington monument shoved inside me again; stuffing my fuck trench with a barbie doll just didn't get my smush mitten surging like it used to. Inserting an antique doorknob into my cod crater got me spraying flange custard faster than a greased weasel shit. There was baby gravy frothing from his muffbuster and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his cunt plunger soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The feeling of his love piss dribbling down my throat got my beige slime flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. The hammering of my brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds joining his spam javelin deep in my soft tight anus. With my furburger now much like a blind cobbler's thumb, he thought it was time to start plunging my rusty sherif's badge. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cut a colon cobra, I wondered? With his sperminator pounding deep into my municipal cockwash, the sensation of his blind butler smashing my cervix made me quake like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. He munched on my beef curtains, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. The mixture of colon cobra and Da Vinci load in my fudge factory created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. Some girls are happy just to fish for pearls when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a lightbulb in my depravity cavity and a gerbil up my turd-herder. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's clap flaps looking like a motorway pileup, and I was no different! When he removed his ramrod from m
y old dirt road, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the hardened fudge nugget off his stilton spear. I awoke the next morning with my moose knuckle still seeping. I thought it was over but his one-eyed monster had other ideas. The unrelenting orgasms from his womb ferret plowing my clam-flavoured pothole made me come so hard, I began sweating like a paedo during a prison riot. He crowned a giant toilet twinkie on my fiery biscuits just so he could suck it up like a pig at a trough. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his purple beaver buster made my tuna tunnel tears ooze like a broken fridge freezer. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love mayonnaise oozing from my brown mile and all over my roast beef platter.

  By now, my meat purse was oozing like a hungry pig at a trough. I awoke the next morning with my smush mitten still flowing. I thought it was over but his thrill drill had other ideas. Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his veiny quim prod made my shrimp sap ooze like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. My gashtray was trembling like a rat on acid. With his one-eyed monster hammering deep into my cod cave, the sensation of his long-dong silver smashing my cervix made me quiver like a rat on acid. He munched on my panty hamster, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. I can't wait to suck the baby gravy from his disco stick. It was bliss having his skin flute stuffed inside me again; stuffing my slime hole with a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster just didn't get my front bum squirting like it used to. The slamming of my Mavis Fritter was so vigorous, he soon found his salty protein grapes joining his one-eyed milkman deep in my turd cutter. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his battering ram soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With my vertical garden now much like an over inflated dinghy, he thought it was time to start shoving my puckered brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? Within no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding flowing from my fudge factory and all over my beef curtains. The mixture of stink pickle and love piss in my Mavis Fritter created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's beef curtains looking like a hippo's yawn, and I was no different! If I don't finger blast to get my spaff frothing from my cod cave, his balony pony is going to leave my clap flaps resembling Pete Burns' lips. Some girls are happy just to dial the rotary phone when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 15" spiked vibrator in my cod crater and an antique doorknob up my cocoa channel. My mouth was so full of timed slimer and gentleman's relish, the steamin' semen was dribbling down my chin and onto my twin peaks. The pounding makes me squirt my minge mucus all over his all-beef thermometer. Inserting a squash into my kipper dinghy got me surging pussy batter faster than a greased weasel shit. There was ectoplasm frothing from his tenderloin truncheon and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. When he removed his chubstep 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 suck the Mr. Hanky off his Nelson's Column. The feeling of his love piss flowing down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. After having my cock holster raided, he then proceeded to raid my chocolate starfish. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his master of ceremonies stuffed deeper into my marmite motorway. He eased out a giant toilet twinkie on my mammaries just so he could lap it up like a pig at a trough.

  The seemingly never-ending streams of Da Vinci load emanating from his battering ram soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My penis pothole was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. Some girls are happy just to audition the finger puppets when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an egg timer in my wizards sleeve and my fist up my puckered brown eye. The mixture of colon cobra and creamy load in my poo pipe created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. I can't wait to lap the magician's wax from his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus. The feeling of his love mayonnaise foaming down my throat got my vertical moisture flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. After having my furry cup fucked, he then proceeded to slam my turd cutter. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his disco stick made my beige slime trickle like a broken coffee maker. It was bliss having his chorizo howitzer stuffed inside me again; stuffing my cod canyon with my fist just didn't get my clearing in the woods spraying like it used to. The plowing makes me eject my fallopian fish stock all over his bald avenger. He dropped a giant stink pickle on my mosquito bites just so he could consume it up like a pig at a trough. There was cock snot foaming from his skeleton king and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. The hammering of my Mavis Fritter was so vigorous, he soon found his two amigos joining his slut slayer deep in my other vagina. If I don't study english cliterature to get my beige slime flowing from my mound of love pudding, his jebend is going to leave my lunchmeat resembling a badly wrapped kebab. With his gristle missile raiding deep into my slime hole, the sensation of his washington monument smashing my cervix made me quiver like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. The unrelenting orgasms from his blue-veined custard chucker slamming my quim made me come so hard, I began sweating like a paedo during a prison riot. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's vertical smile looking like a motorway pileup, and I was no different! My throat was so full of skeleton king and love mayonnaise, the magician's wax was dribbling down my chin and onto my mosquito bites. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his thrill drill probed deeper into my Mavis Fritter. Inserting a gerbil into my split peach got me surging fallopian fish stock faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. I awoke the next morning with my cod cave still slobbering. I thought it was over but his turgid terror truncheon had other ideas. When he removed his jade rod from my Oxo orifice, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the corn-eyed butt snake off his greasy kebab skewer. By now, my wunder down under was dribbling like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. He munched on my beef curtains, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock snot sliming from my puckered brown eye and all over my vertical garden.

  I can't wait to lap the creamy load from his skin flute. By now, my fuck trench was dribbling like a rabid dog. Some girls are happy just to finger blast when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a number of chillies in my clunge pool and a 9-iron up my fudge factory. With his huge penis pounding deep into my one slice toaster, the sensation of his veiny quim prod smashing my cervix made me quiver like jelly. When he removed his sperminator from my soft tight anus, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the corn-eyed butt snake off his wrist-thick wand. The seemingly never-ending streams of penis pudding emanating from his skeleton king soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My sperm socket was trembling like a rat on acid. Inserting a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster into my whispering eye got me ejecting shrimp sap faster than a greased weasel shit. The pounding makes me squirt my vertical moisture all over his love lollipop. He eased out a giant footlong fudge bullet on my chesticles just so he could chow down on it up like a hungry hungry hippo. If I don't play the clitar to get my clunge gunge frothing from my chlamydia canal, his flesh gordon is going to leave my purple cabbage resembling that bathroom door in The Shining. The fucking of my other vagina was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his stilton sword deep in my black hole. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his all-beef thermometer stuffed deeper into my Oxo orifice. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his sperminator made my sex wee leach like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. The mixt
ure of toilet twinkie and cock custard in my rusty sherif's badge created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's lunchmeat looking like a bulldog in a windtunnel, and I was no different! My cake hole was so full of skin flute and cock snot, the baby gravy was sliming down my chin and onto my breasticles. I awoke the next morning with my chamber of squelch still dribbling. I thought it was over but his gristle missile had other ideas. With my vertical smile now much like a horse's collar, he thought it was time to start stuffing my other vagina. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a sewer trout, I wondered? Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen haemorrhaging from my black hole and all over my vertical smile. After having my oyster ditch pounded, he then proceeded to pound my turd cutter. The feeling of his gentleman's relish leaking down my throat got my beige slime flowing quicker than snot off a whip. He munched on my beef curtains, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. There was baby gravy weeping from his love muscle and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. The unrelenting orgasms from his thrill drill plowing my carp cavity made me come so hard, I began sweating like a fat slag in a disco.

  Some girls are happy just to buff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 9-iron in my depravity cavity and my fist up my fart valve. My cake hole was so full of wensleydale wand and man fat, the love mayonnaise was foaming down my chin and onto my chest puppies. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his womb raider made my shrimp sap drain like a rabid dog. The feeling of his cock custard sliming down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than snot off a whip. After having my carp cavity slammed, he then proceeded to fuck my tradesman's entrance. He launched a giant colon cobra on my superdroopers just so he could chow down on it up like a pig at a trough. I can't wait to chow down on the gentleman's relish from his muffbuster. My slime hole was trembling like jelly. It was bliss having his meaty member rammed inside me again; stuffing my cock holster with a number of chillies just didn't get my ground zero grotto flooding like it used to. The hammering of my turd cutter was so vigorous, he soon found his family jewels joining his spam dagger deep in my balloon knot. With his thrill drill thrusting deep into my chamber of squelch, the sensation of his veiny quim prod smashing my cervix made me quake like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his stilton sword slid deeper into my fudge factory. When he removed his muffbuster from my ring piece, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the stink pickle off his pink tractor beam. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's panty hamster looking like a blind cobbler's thumb, and I was no different! If I don't audition the finger puppets to get my shrimp sap haemorrhaging from my shame portal, his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus is going to leave my panty hamster resembling a manatee in yoga pants. The plowing makes me spray my shrimp sap all over his timed slimer. Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat leaking from my poo pipe and all over my vertical garden. The seemingly never-ending streams of gentleman's relish emanating from his stilton spear 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 stuffing my marmite motorway. Is now the time to tell him I really need to launch a butt nugget, I wondered? I awoke the next morning with my ground zero grotto still oozing. I thought it was over but his sperminator had other ideas. The mixture of toilet twinkie and cock custard in my poop chute created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. There was cock snot sliming from his all-beef thermometer and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. By now, my cod crater was weeping like a George Foreman grill. The unrelenting orgasms from his master of ceremonies plowing my depravity cavity made me come so hard, I began sweating like a whore in a confessional. He munched on my clap flaps, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week.