by Amy Woods
There was steamin' semen leaking from his purple-headed trouser snake and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. The hammering makes me squirt my flange custard all over his wensleydale wand. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my minge monsoon sliming from my cod crater, his balony pony is going to leave my beef curtains resembling a shot cat. Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat weeping from my Mavis Fritter and all over my clap flaps. He munched on my fishy flaps, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. After having my gammon alley raided, he then proceeded to fuck my rusty sherif's badge. I awoke the next morning with my one slice toaster still seeping. I thought it was over but his piss pipe had other ideas. I can't wait to devour the love mayonnaise from his greasy kebab skewer. Inserting a squash into my ruby cave got me pouring beige slime faster than a greased weasel shit. He eased out a giant toilet twinkie on my superdroopers just so he could devour it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The mixture of sewer trout and gentleman's relish in my poop chute created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. It was bliss having his Ocean's 11 Inches slid inside me again; stuffing my shame portal with my fist just didn't get my tampon tunnel spouting like it used to. The raiding of my shit winker was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds joining his sperminator deep in my rusty sherif's badge. With my hairy goblet now much like a sand blasted tomato, he thought it was time to start probing my puckered brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to extrude a toilet twinkie, I wondered? By now, my smush mitten was haemorrhaging like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his batter blaster shoved deeper into my shit winker. The feeling of his love mayonnaise seeping down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. The seemingly never-ending streams of man fat emanating from his one-eyed monster soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. When he removed his cumtree from my rusty bullet hole, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the butt nugget off his greasy kebab skewer. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's furburger looking like a stamped bat, and I was no different! The unrelenting orgasms from his bald-headed yogurt slinger pounding my shamevelope made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage. My mouth was so full of bugger king and penis pudding, the creamy load was seeping down my chin and onto my cans. My wizards sleeve was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. Some girls are happy just to finger blast when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an egg timer in my wunder down under and a squash up my poop chute. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his cream reaper made my beige slime haemorrhage like a slavering dog.
By now, my mound of love pudding was haemorrhaging like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. After having my pink velvet sausage wallet thrusted, he then proceeded to plow my turd-herder. He munched on my clap flaps, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his one-eyed milkman stuffed deeper into my rusty bullet hole. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's spam castanets looking like the Japanese flag, and I was no different! The plowing of my balloon knot was so vigorous, he soon found his man berries joining his spam javelin deep in my rusty bullet hole. My mouth was so full of mutton dagger and gentleman's relish, the steamin' semen was trickling down my chin and onto my fiery biscuits. When he removed his thrill drill from my ring piece, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the corn-eyed butt snake off his timed slimer. It was bliss having his skeleton king stuffed inside me again; stuffing my wunder down under with an egg timer just didn't get my shamevelope squirting like it used to. The seemingly never-ending streams of gentleman's relish emanating from his battering ram soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. There was love mayonnaise frothing from his chorizo howitzer and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. Within no time, I could feel the shitty gentleman's relish dribbling from my brown mile and all over my spam castanets. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and penis pudding in my cocoa channel created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. With his muffbuster slamming deep into my cod cave, the sensation of his jebend smashing my cervix made me quiver like jelly. Inserting a barbie doll into my stench trench got me pouring flange custard faster than snot off a whip. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his cumtree made my minge monsoon haemorrhage like a hungry pig at a trough. The unrelenting orgasms from his womb ferret thrusting my tuna canal made me come so hard, I began sweating like a midget nun at a penguin shoot. I can't wait to chow down on the Da Vinci load from his skeleton king. I awoke the next morning with my carp cavity still dribbling. I thought it was over but his stilton spear had other ideas. The hammering makes me spout my pussy batter all over his cunt stretcher. If I don't play the clitar to get my shrimp sap trickling from my hot pocket, his wensleydale wand is going to leave my furburger resembling Brian May's plughole. The feeling of his love mayonnaise oozing down my throat got my sex wee flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. My depravity cavity was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. He pinched off a giant Mr. Hanky on my twin peaks just so he could suck it up like a pig at a trough. Some girls are happy just to fluff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a lightbulb in my cum dumpster and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my other vagina.
I awoke the next morning with my split peach still seeping. I thought it was over but his bugger king had other ideas. If I don't stimulate the genitals through phalangetic motion to get my sex wee oozing from my wizards sleeve, his veiny quim prod is going to leave my vertical garden resembling a sand blasted tomato. Some girls are happy just to buff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a gerbil in my wunder down under and a number of chillies up my Oxo orifice. The mixture of colon cobra and cock snot in my Mavis Fritter created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cumtree probed deeper into my vintage golf bag. It was bliss having his skin flute probed inside me again; stuffing my cod canyon with my fist just didn't get my hatchet wound squirting like it used to. The feeling of his baby gravy draining down my throat got my vertical moisture flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The pounding of my turd-herder was so vigorous, he soon found his two amigos joining his huge penis deep in my puckered brown eye. With his blue-veined custard chucker plowing deep into my shamevelope, the sensation of his piss pipe smashing my cervix made me quake like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. My stench trench was trembling like jelly. The seemingly never-ending streams of creamy load emanating from his ramrod soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The raiding makes me spit my spaff all over his gristle missile. By now, my clearing in the woods was trickling like a hungry pig at a trough. The unrelenting orgasms from his greasy kebab skewer thrusting my ladytown made me come so hard, I began sweating like a whore in a confessional. There was Da Vinci load dribbling from his purple beaver buster and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. I can't wait to devour the steamin' semen from his stilton sword. He munched on my clap flaps, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week. When he removed his vein cane from my brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the stink pickle off his long-dong silver. Inserting a lightbulb into my cod crater got me flowing vertical moisture faster than a greased weasel shit. With my furburger now much like the south end of a badger going north, he thought it was time to start stuffing my balloon knot. Is now the time to tell him I really need to roll a stink
pickle, I wondered? My throat was so full of blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon and baby gravy, the gentleman's relish was oozing down my chin and onto my droopies. Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat haemorrhaging from my turd-herder and all over my flappy meal. He rolled a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my sweater puppies just so he could consume it up like a pig at a trough. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's lunchmeat looking like a gutted trout, and I was no different! Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his all-beef thermometer made my tuna tunnel tears leach like a slug in a salt mine.
Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's vertical smile looking like that bathroom door in The Shining, and I was no different! With his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus plowing deep into my vaginal bacon buffet, the sensation of his cumtree smashing my cervix made me quake like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his wrist-thick wand made my beige slime haemorrhage like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. My ground zero grotto was trembling like a shitting dog. Some girls are happy just to dial the rotary phone when they're alone, but I can't get off without having my fist in my wizards sleeve and an egg timer up my black hole. I can't wait to suck the cock snot from his bald avenger. The feeling of his steamin' semen dribbling down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. My cake hole was so full of one-eyed monster and man fat, the Da Vinci load was slobbering down my chin and onto my rack. The seemingly never-ending streams of baby gravy emanating from his stilton sword soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The thrusting of my cocoa channel was so vigorous, he soon found his jingle-jangle jewellery joining his womb ferret deep in my rusty bullet hole. With my furburger now much like a twisted slipper, he thought it was time to start ramming my Oxo orifice. Is now the time to tell him I really need to arc a sewer trout, I wondered? When he removed his wrist-thick wand from my chocolate starfish, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the stink pickle off his kebeb skewer. He munched on my hairy goblet, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. If I don't strum the banjo to get my minge mucus leaching from my tampon tunnel, his bald-headed yogurt slinger is going to leave my vertical garden resembling a manatee in yoga pants. I awoke the next morning with my wunder down under still weeping. I thought it was over but his batter blaster had other ideas. The unrelenting orgasms from his Nelson's Column raiding my fuck trench made me come so hard, I began sweating like a paedo during a prison riot. By now, my meat purse was leaching like a jizz waterfall. There was love mayonnaise haemorrhaging from his washington monument and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. The pounding makes me spray my spaff all over his bald-headed yogurt slinger. It was bliss having his blind butler rammed inside me again; stuffing my whispering eye with a lightbulb just didn't get my birth cannon pouring like it used to. Within no time, I could feel the shitty magician's wax weeping from my marmite motorway and all over my vertical garden. He crowned a giant Mr. Hanky on my top bollocks just so he could lap it up like a hungry hungry hippo. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his bugger king rammed deeper into my ring piece. After having my south mouth thrusted, he then proceeded to plow my fart valve. The mixture of stink pickle and creamy load in my balloon knot created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of.
The raiding of my shit winker was so vigorous, he soon found his salty protein grapes joining his bald avenger deep in my marmite motorway. The unrelenting orgasms from his huge penis plowing my vibrator crater made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. He munched on my lunchmeat, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his sperminator made my spaff flow like a rabid dog. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his bald avenger probed deeper into my soft tight anus. There was love mayonnaise trickling from his timed slimer and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. It was bliss having his washington monument stuffed inside me again; stuffing my stench trench with an antique doorknob just didn't get my municipal cockwash ejecting like it used to. Within no time, I could feel the shitty magician's wax seeping from my turd-herder and all over my lunchmeat. If I don't audition the finger puppets to get my pussy batter seeping from my vaginal bacon buffet, his bugger king is going to leave my piss flaps resembling a hippo's yawn. With my vertical smile now much like a hippo's yawn, he thought it was time to start plunging my Mavis Fritter. Is now the time to tell him I really need to extrude a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? My shame portal was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. I awoke the next morning with my ladytown still leaching. I thought it was over but his wrist-thick wand had other ideas. With his one-eyed monster hammering deep into my ladytown, the sensation of his blue-veined custard chucker smashing my cervix made me quiver like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. My mouth was so full of piss pipe and love piss, the magician's wax was oozing down my chin and onto my rack. The feeling of his Da Vinci load flowing down my throat got my vertical moisture flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. After having my cock holster plowed, he then proceeded to pound my shit winker. The mixture of stink pickle and penis pudding in my fart valve created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. Inserting an egg timer into my smush mitten got me pouring vertical moisture faster than a greased weasel shit. He crowned a giant stink pickle on my love bubbles just so he could suck it up like a pig at a trough. The thrusting makes me squirt my minge mucus all over his one-eyed milkman. I can't wait to chow down on the Da Vinci load from his battering ram. The seemingly never-ending streams of Da Vinci load emanating from his wensleydale wand soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. By now, my cum dumpster was leaking like a broken fridge freezer. Some girls are happy just to finger blast when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a squash in my frilling pink golf bag and a number of chillies up my rusty sherif's badge. When he removed his cumtree from my poop chute, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the Mr. Hanky off his purple-headed trouser snake.
Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his giggle stick made my flange custard ooze like a jizz waterfall. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his womb raider slid deeper into my other vagina. The fucking of my fudge factory was so vigorous, he soon found his sperm factories joining his balony pony deep in my poop chute. With his turgid terror truncheon slamming deep into my cock holster, the sensation of his meaty member smashing my cervix made me quake like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his greasy slimelight soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He blasted a giant stink pickle on my mosquito bites just so he could gobble it up like a pig at a trough. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love piss dripping from my chocolate starfish and all over my meaty hangers. With my fishy flaps now much like a dropped burrito, he thought it was time to start probing my balloon knot. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? There was ectoplasm weeping from his chubstep and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. When he removed his spunk-filled spam rocket from my shit winker, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the stink pickle off his greasy kebab skewer. The unrelenting orgasms from his long-dong silver hammering my frilling pink golf bag made me come so hard, I began sweating like a paedo during a prison riot. By now, my pink velvet sausage wallet was frothing like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. The feeling of his cock custard seeping down my throat got my m
inge mucus flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's clap flaps looking like a shot cat, and I was no different! My cake hole was so full of veiny quim prod and magician's wax, the love piss was trickling down my chin and onto my chesticles. It was bliss having his stilton sword slid inside me again; stuffing my herring hole with a number of chillies just didn't get my penis pothole squirting like it used to. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and cock snot in my tradesman's entrance created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. He munched on my furburger, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. After having my cod cave raided, he then proceeded to thrust my rusty sherif's badge. I can't wait to devour the cock custard from his greasy slimelight. If I don't strum the banjo to get my fallopian fish stock oozing from my cum dumpster, his jade rod is going to leave my clap flaps resembling a bulldog in a windtunnel. My wizards sleeve was trembling like a rat on acid. The pounding makes me spout my tuna tunnel tears all over his spam javelin. Some girls are happy just to flick the bean when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in my split peach and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my brown eye. Inserting an egg timer into my salmon slit got me ejecting vertical moisture faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel.
